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

[Mr Zoat]

24th July
16:14 GMT

Just like on Earth, when-

"Yaaagh!"

-Lanterns spar, it doesn't take all that long-

"Raah!"

-for a crowd to form. Fortunately the Tamaraneans have the sense to keep well back, unlike a few Humans I could name. Double-fortunately, because while a few of the subtleties eluded Guy, John and Jordan they certainly had the basics down. I don't think the princesses have even seen a recording of a Lantern before.

Komand'r thrusts her hands forward, fortifying her bubble shield as my tungsten rounds strike home. The barrier cracks under the assault but doesn't fall apart, a noticeable improvement upon her earlier performance. I maintain fire as Koriand'r flies at me, pulses of orange light blasting towards me from her ring. I evade, letting my ring project the trajectory of each shot and move me out of the way. Her trajectory I track by eye, firing a single flashbang round right at her face. Its proximity fuse detonates it just before it hits her, the flash-

"Agh!"

-blinding her and sending her crashing to the ground.

"Koriand'r, your ring can heal your eyes! Focus on your desire-" I send a tendril to assail Komand'r's bubble from the side. "-for physical wellness!" The tendril makes contact. Oh dear, she's lost awareness of her environment again. I have warned her about this.

Corrupt.

The barrier shuddering for a moment is all the notice she gets before construct veins appear over the outer surface.

Construct acquired.

I fold my arms behind my back as I throw her ball up into the air and then slam it to the rocky ground.

"Ah!"

Komand'r yelps, then pushes herself up and forms a construct-sword.

"Komand'r, what did we say about-."

She shoots forwards, environmental shield flaring. I'm actually getting a little worried about her stability. I send a filament at her from the ground just behind her… Ah, she's gotten the hang of resisting those with her environmental shield, good. I float backwards, letting her approach but at a slower rate. As she flies past her fallen sister Koriand'r pulses with orange light, her eyes clearing. She looks around for a moment and then raises her left hand in a 'resume' signal. I fire a short volley of tungsten rounds at her and she leaps into the air to evade.

Komand'r approaches melee range and swings her sword at my chest. My armoury tong construct grips the it by the flat of the blade before it can complete its arc and the sudden stop causes it to slide from her hands. As soon as she loses physical contact her construct fades to nothing and she barrels into my construct armour hands first.

I hear the crack as several bones in her hands fail to withstand the impact, even through her environmental shield. Enhanced for strength and not endurance, perhaps?

She fall back, her teeth bared and glowing construct-gauntlets forming around her injured hands. No, that won't do at all.

"Komand'r, stop."

"I will still-!"

"No, you've lost focus. Stop. Meditate. Resume later."

"I can…" She shudders as she tries to prove my assessment wrong, momentarily showing me that her eyes are emblazoned with the orange sigil. "I… can-."

Her ring cuts out and she falls onto a construct mattress that I've placed just below her. Her mind clear, she looks at her broken fingers in horror as the pain finally gets through. She bites down a whimper as I raise my right hand and scan them.

"Seven phalanges. I would suggest that in future if you wish to punch a hardened target that you create the construct gauntlets first."

She grits her teeth as she answers. "I will remember that."

Orange light plays over her hand as I knit the bones back together. "Better?"

She flexes her fingers. "Yes. I am ready to resume our mat-."

"No, you're not. Without the ability to retain your situational awareness, your effectiveness in combat will be crippled. And this is just against a single opponent who's pulling his attacks; against a fleet that's actively trying to kill you, you will die unless you understand the self-discipline aspects of my training."

She nods reluctantly, rising off the construct platform under her own power. A glance is enough to know that she really likes being able to fly. I'm not sure if she's learned to repair whatever damage her childhood illness did, but.. I don't think I'll do it for her. It will be an excellent encouragement to learn how to use her ring for non-combat purposes. Komand'r flies over to our starting area and sits down cross-legged, her hands meeting fist-to-palm across her chest.

Koriand'r comes closer. I haven't signalled 'stop' in her case, but she appears to be assuming that she should take a break if her sister does. "What do you want me to focus on?"

"Armour constructs. I shouldn't have been able to disable you like that. You can bet that Emperor Damyn has reviewed the fight leading to the death of his progenitor at length, which is why you'll both be undergoing power armour training this afternoon."

"I have not fought in such heavy armour before. I am .. concerned that it may impair my movements in a way which I cannot adequately compensate for."

"That's a reasonable concern under planetary gravity and in an atmosphere. You'll be in space, wearing a power ring. Trust me when I say that power ring based flight does not care about a little extra weight from your armour."

She doesn't look convinced. "Will this armour stop capital ship weaponry?"

"Not the primary weapons, but if those hit you then it's your own fault for not dodging. It will however severely reduce the ability of their point defences to harm you, and those are far more effective against small targets like Lanterns when at close range. Did your training on Okaara cover ship to ship combat at all?"

"Somewhat. But it was not a particular focus. And we didn't study ways to destroy capital ships from the outside using infantry."

I nod. No, I don't suppose that they would have. "Fair enough. How are you finding the solar suit?"

She tenses and relaxes a few muscles, looking at the material as it moves over her skin. "It feels.. strange. I am so used to the idea that covering my skin weakens me that I have seldom worn so much clothing."

"Hopefully it'll help get you familiar with the practice. Of course, you can charge yourself directly with the ring, but in case you run out of charge or your focus slips…"

"How have you managed, not being able to feel love or hope or compassion? I have tried to imagine it, but the idea is so alien to me that I cannot comprehend it."

"I can feel them just fine. Even using my ring."

She considers that for a moment. "You said that your ring was different to ours. Is that why we have such a problem?"

I shake my head. "No. My ability to feel other things while using my ring comes from a… A great moment of self-comprehension I had last year when I.. saw all of my desires in their proper place. I'm afraid that I don't know if it's possible to train people to undergo the same thing-."

"I am low on power."

Koriand'r raises her left hand and looks at her ring. "How do I recharge it?"

"You will eventually get a personal lantern so that you can charge yourself. For now-" I hold out my left hand and call my lantern out of subspace. "-please use mine."

"How do I-?"

The Ophidian leaps out of my lantern and coils around her!

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th July
16:19 GMT

Koriand'r's eyes widen as the Ophidian wraps two coils around her abdomen and another around her left arm before ducking her head to look at Koriand'r's ring. Which is crackling with orange light.

"Koriand'r, this is the Ophidian. The Embodiment of Avarice."

"Is she friendly?" Her ring dims and the Ophidian pulls her head away slightly.

"Eeh. Could be. Ophidian?"

The Ophidian raises her head. "Who is this?"

"This is Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran. She's our second recruit."

The Ophidian bends her neck, coil shifting as she leans around to stare Koriand'r in the face. "New Lantern?"

"I had been planning to give her a little longer to acclimatise-." Koriand'r's ring starts glowing again, light.. appearing to be flowing from the ring into herohdear. "Ophidian, why don't you let her go for the moment?"

"I cannot feel the Gnat. Is he dead?"

"No, I-."

"Why can I not feel the Gnat?"

"We cut him off from the orange light. He can't use it. Can't feel it."

The Ophidian tilts her head to the side. "He suffers?"

I nod. "Yes, I'm afraid that was-."

"I am pleased, my Agent. Make the Gnat suffer. Keep him contained and unable to get anything he wants. Make him know that he will never be able to get anything he wants ever again."

"I don't.. think he's even capable of wanting things at the moment."

"Even better! Leave! Him! With! Nothing!"

The feedback in Koriand'r is continuing, the woman herself shuddering… "Can do. Ophidian, you're damaging your new Lantern."

"Making her more like you."

Yes, I see now. She's trying to get the orange light in Koriand'r to mimic my soul tattoos. But if she keeps forcing more orange light into Koriand'r's soul then the whole network will destabilise. It's not like Larfleeze who was already almost totally attuned to the orange light or me who used magic to make it work, something like that would seriously mess anyone else up. "Ophidian, the whole point of this was to show you different sets of desires. Different ways to want things and different sets of wants. You're destroying something, and once you've done that it becomes something you can't ever have. Is that what you want?"

Her coils immediately loosen, her body moving away from Koriand'r in all directions. "No. That is the worst thing."

Without the Ophidian's support Koriand'r collapses to the ground. I see that behind her Komand'r has risen to her feet, though she hasn't got as far as offering actual help yet. Koriand'r pushes herself to her feet, looking-.

"YOU WILL NOT CONTROL ME!"

Beams of orange light blast from her eyes and strike the Ophidian in the chest. They don't do much other than slightly confuse her. Koriand'r recognises her error almost immediately, generating construct armour around her body -now why can't she do it like that when we spar?- and charging the Ophidian with razor-sharp talons outstretched.

Impressive effort, but at best that will do nothing and at worst it might annoy the Ophidian. I fire off six orange tethers which attach to the back of her armour.

Corrupt.

The armour shimmers for a moment-

"GET OFF ME!"

-and then solidifies as a sword construct slices through my tethers. Okay, no.

"Drain."

Orange mist boils away from Koriand'r's construct armour as it comes apart.

"And peace."

The glow in her eyes blinks out. For a moment I see her normal eyes, then they roll back in her head as she collapses into unconsciousness. I stick a crash mat construct under her to soften her landing.

"And that, Ophidian, is why you have to be careful who you feed more power to than they're ready to cope with."

I pull the crash mat over to me, studying Koriand'r's interior in detail. The orange is glowing, but the rest is.. still there. I put my right hand over her forehead and draw out what I can.

"What.. is that?"

Komand'r has come closer, staring up at the Ophidian with naked desire evident on her face.

"Ophidian, Princess Komand'r of Tamaran. Our first recruit." Okay, think that's done. I drop my hand and lower the crash mat to the ground. "Princess Komand'r, the Ophidian. The Embodiment of Avarice."

The Ophidian bends down slightly to get a better look at her, forked tongue flicking out as she tastes Komand'r's soul.

"Is it a god?"

"God.. in the sense of an arcane intelligence arising from the Dream? No. God in the sense of a being who is worshipped by others? I don't think anyone worships her, but it isn't impossible. God in the sense of being ludicrously powerful? Yes, yes she is."

"Another Lantern? Are there more?"

"No, not yet. I was going to introduce you once they got the hang of using the orange light."

"This one is more in tune."

Komand'r looks to me for an explanation. "More 'in tune'?"

"You're better at using your avarice as the driving force behind your actions. That's more or less how the Ophidian perceives the universe. Ophidian, would you please return to my lantern? I'll introduce you to the whole team within a month."

"Yes."

Her construct body shimmers for a moment, the disappears. I sigh with relief, then take hold of my personal lantern.

"You.. keep a god in your lantern? Is she what you draw power from?"

"It's-. No, it's complicated, and it isn't strictly speaking necessary to learning to use your ring."

"Is she more powerful than you?"

"Oh yes, but left to her own devices she'd just do what Larfleeze did and go to sleep on a big pile of valuables. Larfleeze had far more power than me and three billion years in which to use it and what did he do? Nothing. I can actually do things with the orange light." I fix her with a steady stare. "You have a power ring; you don't need more power, you need to use the power you already have better. More precision, more control."

Komand'r nods. I'm not certain that I've convinced her, but she appears willing to give me the benefit of the doubt for now.

"Now, how about we run through the Hierarchy of Needs again?"

Komand'r's eyes linger on my lantern for a moment before nodding. "If we must."

 

[Mr Zoat]

25th July
14:19 GMT -6

"When you said I could come here after school, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

Miss Selton paces uncomfortably inside the isolation chamber, casting the occasional scathing look through the observation window when she thinks my attention is directed elsewhere.

"I know, and I do appreciate you assisting me like this." Air flow… Good. Response… Minimal. Excellent. "The test subject-."

"Don't call him a test subject."

"Alright… Ah, test.. volunteer?" That gets me a look, but she doesn't otherwise comment. "Has had continual exposure to the control.. volunteer for ten minutes with no ill effect."

"Ping."

"Just so."

It's so good to have a Box again, even if it is like having a Sphere I can't just escape by walking up some stairs constantly attached to me. Himon was.. pleasant enough, once Scott explained things to him and to the crowd of Lowlies at the resistance gathering. I assume that Barda killed Amazing Grace before the mob could beat her to death as a result of all of the superhero exposure she's been getting lately; there's no way the old her would have been anything like that merciful. I'm still not sure if he incorporated the yellow sigil for decoration or if it's so much a part of my nature that it had to be included or… What? Maybe that's just the shape this Mother Box has and the resemblance is a coincidence.

Miss Selton folds her arms across her chest, her gaze moving all around the small room and its rather limited furniture. "I'm only doing this because Lynne asked me, okay?"

"Understood. Unlocking the door now."

I press the button which unlocks the inner door, hearing a dull clank from inside the chamber. Still no reaction.

"Are you sure this is safe? I don't think a vampire with fire powers would live all that long."

"He's responded well to the treatment so far, and has shown no response to simulated scent or visual triggers. And he's been smelling you for ten minutes with no observable affect."

She doesn't look entirely convinced. "Why is it you've got me doing this? Rather than anyone else?"

"Doctor Robbins is post-menopausal. Ms Black is heavily cyberised, Jean isn't Human, Miss Amane is a New God, Miss Shimmer used to be a Pony and Lynne hasn't reached full physical maturity. If it makes you feel any better, none of his previous victims reanimated."

"Not really." She glances at the door. "Oh, just get on with it."

I press the button to access the intercom on the other part of the isolation chamber. "Alright, you can come on through now."

The.. hybrid whose name I can't think looks up at the camera for a moment, then rises from his bench. "Mister Grayven, are you sure about this?"

"There are no certainties in this life, my boy. But if you haven't reacted by now I'd be very surprised if you were going to." Apparently that wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Drones with holy water sprays and force field projectors are on hand just in case you relapse. But it probably won't come to that. Come on, get this done and you and your brothers can have a walk around the rest of the facility."

"Why not my sisters as well?"

"Because male and female bodies work differently and the formulation which works on you doesn't work anything like as well on them."

He nods, still looking slightly downcast. Oh for goodness sake, if he doesn't get up I'm going to have one of the drones drag-. Finally he walks towards the door at the speed of a condemned man heading for the scaffold.

"Miss Selton, he's heading through now."

"And if he turns into a freaky monster it's okay to burn him."

"Until he's no longer capable of attacking you or containment activates, yes. But that shouldn't be necessary."

"Right…" She starts pacing again, realises what she's doing and forces herself to sit down. She tenses as.. the hybrid pushes the door open. Pleasant enough looking youth, nervous as anything. But he volunteered the moment I asked. He's got a real sense of duty. She's the first person other than a blood relative he's been in close physical proximity to without anything barring the way. The first adult he hasn't eaten. He freezes up and the two of them just sort of stare at each other for a moment.

"Feel anything, lad?"

And don't I feel like a prize ninny for having to call him 'lad'. You'd think that becoming a god would have bypassed the whole 'can't say my old name' problem. Or being Anti-Lifed. I mean, exactly how much of the original me is left at this point?

"N-no, Mister Grayven."

I watch him on the monitor for a moment. "Breathe, boy."

He remains still for a moment, then takes a very shallow breath.

"Still with us?"

"Y-yeah. I can smell-" He looks at Miss Selton. "-you, but it doesn't, like… Trigger anything."

"Glad to hear it." She turns to me. "Can I come out now?"

"Not just yet. Would you mind changing?"

She frowns. "What?"

"Not you, him."

"Oh yeah, I haven't seen your scary-" She turns back just as the hybrid shifts into his Demonic Manbat form. "-mmmode." The youth shifts nervously as she stares at it, jumper and shorts stretched awkwardly around his altered torso and legs. "Huuuuh."

"Smell anything now?"

This was the tricky bit. When they're in Human form their supernatural power is turned right down. Probably to improve their chance of successful infiltration, something Vampires and Succubae have in common. It turned out that -once Miss Shimmer and Zatanna started working on it in earnest- coming up with an alchemical solution that worked on Human-mode was reasonably easy. Monster-mode is far harder. Not only is their sense of smell far more acute but they tend to throw off externally applied magics far quicker.

"Yes. No. She's still there, I know she's… Ready-"

"Excuse me?"

"-but I don't want to eat her."

Miss Selton opens her mouth, then shuts it again. Then she turns back to the window. "Are we done now?"

"Unless you want to perform an auto-erotic act, yes."

"What?"

"It would be the strongest possible trigger for his-."

"No. I don't."

"Then, yes." I press the button to release the electronic lock on the external door, then walk over to open the manual component. "Out you come."

"Finally." Miss Selton is out of the door at a pace just shy of a jog. "Am I done now?"

"If you'd like to head up to the psionics lab, Jean is ready to perform your latest knowledge transfer. Thank you for your-" She's already walking past me. "-cooperation."

"Mister Grayven?"

I turn back to where.. the boy is standing at the door. Back in Human mode without prompting, very good. "Come on out. I'll give you the tour myself."

"Could we..? Could we let my brothers out as well first?"

Hm. Testing them individually would be better, but all of their initial results came back the same as his…

"If you like. Let's do one last round of scent testing first, then we can sort you all out some proper quarters."

He beams at me, then dashes off to tell them the good news.

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th July
06:42 GMT

"Koriand'r, you're-" Construct point defence laser turret seventeen fires, striking her on her construct armour's left hip. "-too slow again."

Her construct wobbles for a moment, then she vanishes in a flash of orange. A moment later main gun three fires, two faux gravity rippers cutting a path through empty space.

"Better."

"Haagh!"

Komand'r transitions into a blind spot behind turret four, cutting at its anchor point with an orange bolt of exactly the level of force required. Normally that would be protected by a force field, but in this exercise they've already done enough damage to shut that down.

I slowly bring the ship construct around, as if the pilot were attempting to bring other guns to bear. At the same time a construct hatch opens and construct marines leap into the void, guns firing. Real Citadel marines aren't much of a threat to Lanterns at anything less than Zerg swarm levels, but the first few times we did this neither sister could resist stopping to fight them. They've both learned to desire at a higher Maslowian level since then. Killing the bastards who are right here is less important to them than killing all of the bastards for certain. Urge indulgence is less important than ultimate goal realisation. I don't have anything much to compare the speed with which they've internalised my lessons yet. I had only theory and comics to support my own early efforts, and I was as much concerned with not going insane and learning how to superhero as I was in trying to become an efficient Lantern.

Komand'r creates a tower shield to block the construct marines' first volley, scans the ship and then transmits something before transitioning away. Alright, the Citadelian captain would know that the shields and point defences on that area of the ship are down. His response would be to accelerate and spin, preventing the attackers getting an easy attack run at that-.

Warning: avarice detected.

Oh yes?

Koriand'r warps back, eyes and forearms glowing brilliant orange as she fires an almighty blast at the vulnerable section of the ship.

Ring, simulate.

Compliance.

The construct around me shudders and jumps sideways in space. That's a lot of power she's putting out. I'll wait to be pleased until I find out how mentally coherent she is at the moment. The ship construct's armour keeps together -sort of- but it buckles and its rigidity is causing the simulated interior of the ship to twist and break. Non-critical systems are the first to fail -the Branx are pretty good ship designers- but with the shockwaves passing through the ship it's only a matter of time-.

Primary combat power disabled.

The ship's main guns and primary shield die at once, and its rate of acceleration falls dramatically. What the captain's response to that would be depends on the captain. In some places, a ship may be allowed to surrender in that sort of situation. In Vega, unless you're worth a ransom anyone striking their colours should expect either immediate death or enslavement. But I don't think a Citadelian officer would try that unless they knew help was coming, in order to survive while their allies beat off whatever had attacked them.

If you're being boarded by a superior force, detonating your own main power plant or sabotaging your own FTL drive to make a death-jump is a viable -if obviously fatal- tactic. But given how force transmits badly through a vacuum it doesn't do much to anyone outside the ship and usually isn't easy to rig, ships being designed to not destroy themselves. Slightly more sensible options include using reserve power generators to charge your FTL system's capacitors to either get to help or at least get away from whatever's killing you, or depressurising part of the ship to turn faster and bring your small guns to bear.

Yes, that sounds like something a competent Citadelian might do.

The ship construct lurches around in a semi-controlled fashion, combining the shove Koriand'r is providing with the release of its own 'atmosphere' to turn and bring turrets to bear on her. The moment they get the angle they light up… And expend themselves on the construct barrier which Komand'r has put up to protect her sister.

Ship damage critical.

The hull armour is bent inwards, its own mass crushing the interior sections closest to the hull. Marines throw themselves from every exit point, shooting as they come. But the princesses have enough presence of mind to keep moving, keeping the damaged part of the hull in line of sight and Komand'r's shield between them and the majority of the incoming fire. Infantry heavy weapons can be a threat to Lanterns who are locked in place, but they aren't routinely issued to marines set mostly to repel boarders. Too much risk of doing damage to your own ship's insides. By the time they're out of storage and deployed-.

The ship's hull gives way, reserve power failing across most of its structure as the ship cracks in two. In all but the most poorly built ships this sort of damage doesn't result in a colossal ship-devouring explosion, but there's no way a ship in this condition can keep fighting.

I dismiss the construct, Koriand'r's beam shooting past me into deep space for a second or two before cutting out. I turn in their direction and take a careful look at them. No injuries, Koriand'r is glowing intensely orange but she's mastering it, the sheer power of it diminishing as I watch. She is also managing to avoid doing what she did last time she went for a big shot and trying to focus on another colour as a quick attack-cancel. They're both wearing spacesuits but the sudden loss of manoeuvrability resulted in her being completely vulnerable to the ship's fire.

"Well done." I drift closer, taking time to check that they aren't about to blast me. Hasn't happened since day one, but I'm pushing them harder and I certainly know how the orange light can mess around with your thought processes. "How are you both feeling?"

I can just about make out Komand'r's smile through her faceplate. "Victorious. You weren't going easy on us?"

"I was matching the performance of a Citadelian battleship as closely as I could, neither going easy nor going hard."

She raises her right hand to admire her ring. "Not so difficult at all. Though.. I can see that an entire fleet of such ships would be a far harder prospect."

I nod. "I'm glad that you can keep your perspective like that. I was also impressed with your cooperation. It's nice to know that you've overcome that particular problem. Koriand'r?"

"I… I am… Finding it hard not to focus on a single target when I… Make that sort of attack."

"Not surprising. We can do some practice, have you needing to attack and defend simultaneously. Are you alright to continue now, or do you need a break?"

"I think it would be best if… I am sorry, the mental state I must occupy to use so much power is… Uncomfortable."

I nod again. "Alright, let's head back to Tamaran. Komand'r, if you would?"

Orange light extends outwards from her, enveloping Koriand'r and I. Koriand'r's been able to produce higher peak energy outputs than her sister by a good margin ever since the Ophidian touched her, but she doesn't have the control to match yet. That'll be useful if the Controllers try to argue for an alternate system to the one I want to use.

Alert: warp in progress.

The stars shift as Tamaran reappears. Heh, right where we left it. The orange glow around us dims as Komand'r checks her work. She seems satisfied, and begins flying back towards the planet. A moment later Koriand'r follows on behind her and I bring up the rear.

"Alright, both of you: how does destroying an enemy starship fit the Hierarchy of Needs?"

Komand'r responds first. "Basic: destroying something trying to kill us provides safety from physical harm, and allows us to rest without keeping an eye on the sky at all times."

"Good. Koriand'r?"

"Psychological: cooperative feats promote feelings of unity amongst those who must work together to achieve them. Esteem is gained from serving the general good by destroying those who threaten the community."

"Good. And what else?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
02:37 GMT

Possibly due to the… Difficulties the Citadel is currently experiencing, their picket around Rashashoon is somewhat reduced from my first visit. None of Admiral Dakyn's flotilla, obviously, but one of the two which were guarding the outskirts of the system has also been withdrawn.

"Is that it?" Komand'r looks at the assembled ships contemptuously. "I was expecting something more substantial."

Koriand'r frowns. "I thought that Rashashoon's commerce made it an important part of the Citadel Empire. Why is it not better defended?"

"If I had to guess, a combination of the fact that three out of four of the groups in this region who could threaten it are at peace, and the Citadel's own internal difficulties. If I were Emperor Damyn, I'd want to keep my Admirals where I could see them. At least until my throne was secure."

Something about that arouses Komand'r interest. "Amalak, Jarko and the Spider Guild. Who is the fourth? The Green Lanterns?"

"The Crown Imperium has a large enough fleet that they could capture Rashashoon. But their own worlds would be left undefended and they'd be bled white by raiders doing it. And I don't think their fleet could survive the full wrath of the Citadel and its allies."

Koriand'r has turned her attention from the fleet to Rashashoon itself. "Are there Tamaraneans down there?"

"I didn't give you a power ring so that you could ask me questions you can easily answer yourself. If you want data, use your ring to get it."

She raises her left hand, orange lights flickering around her left arm and head. "Yes, there are. Tamaraneans, Karnans, even a few Branx. Other peoples as well." She lowers her arm, lights dying down a little. "Why Branx? Why would the Citadel permit its ally's people to be treated so?"

"Slavery isn't always a species thing. Sometimes it's a result of an individual's circumstances."

She nods, then her eyes narrow. "I will recover them once we are done with the Citadel."

I smile inside my armour. I had been slightly concerned that she might insist on liberating them immediately. I'm not sure whether my training should take credit or their own natures, but both of them have retained their facility for long term planning as well as I could have hoped. "If you're ready?"

Construct armour appears around Komand'r, while Koriand'r's environmental shield flares. She has trouble with desiring armour as a baseline state. Apparently, solar power was so vital to empowering Tamaranean warriors for so long that as a culture they tend to disdain armour.

"Ready." / "Ready."

"Remember; don't destroy the battleship in your enthusiasm. We need it intact." I remember the Evil Overlord list. "Unless that would put you at undue risk. There are other battleships."

"Hmpf."

I'm not sure whether Komand'r finds the fact I think that I'd need to explain it amusing or the implication that the two of them aren't perfectly capable of doing what the mission requires.

"Go."

There's a burst of orange light as they both accelerate away at superluminal speeds, heading towards the Citadel ships. Nothing else in that region of space and we appeared far enough away that I doubt that they'll have detected our presence. Standard practice for Citadel ships is to maintain moderate shields whenever they're away from a safe shipyard, but they don't go to full combat power unless they're about to initiate an attack or they come under one.

Which means that those ships are currently far more vulnerable than the construct ships they've been practicing against.

A point defence frigate is torn apart as Komand'r warps the space it's occupying and then fires an orange beam through its centre. She's moving away as Koriand'r starts her assault on the battleship, precise bolts of orange flying from her hands and striking the point defence turrets around the primary drive housing. A sensible thing for a small attacker to do: a ship that can't manoeuvre or fly away is far easier to kill than one which can.

I watch Komand'r batter down the shields of another frigate and fire some sort of rock drill construct at the ship, crunching through the hull and mashing the interior.

Ships are increasing power generation.

I nod to myself. I supplied both Komand'r and Koriand'r with crumbler rounds, but neither were able to reliably create, load and fire construct railguns in combat. Then again, they're managing well enough without them. Perhaps my dream of a perfect kill was interfering with their actualisation of a good kill?

Ships attempting to initiate long range communications.

I nod again. Ring, monitor and prepare to jam.

Compliance.

"Captain Gralg of the Assailant to Citadel Complex. I'm under attack by-"

Now.

"-Orange Lanterns! I need assistance! Any ships in the-. Citadel Complex? Citadel Complex, respond!"

Perfect.

The Assailant accelerates and rolls, attempting to line up their heavier topside guns with Koriand'r. Their point defence guns are already firing, but after a few painful kicks up the arse from me she's gotten the hang of automatic evasion. It's not light speed dodging, but while lasers are light speed their mounts aren't.

The other ships are moving into position to assist. The Citadel uses a fleet composition not unlike that of the United States navy, with battleships taking the place of carriers. The other ships are literally there to support the battleship and none of them are more than a tenth of its size. I watch as Komand'r checks her lines of sight and ducks behind another point defence frigate, using it to shield her from the other vessels while she uses construct claws to pull apart its shields before firing orange energy pulses at the ship itself. Two cruisers accelerate away from the flagship, trying to get a shot at her. Too late for the frigate as its armour cracks and crumbles under the power ring assault. A chunk of the hull comes away and the bridge loses power and atmosphere. A well run ship can carry on fighting once decapitated, but as a rule Citadelians don't have the organisation.

Komand'r decides not to bother finding out for certain and fires another beam at the ship's unarmoured interior before dodging between the oncoming medium-sized ships. That's not a good-. Oh, I see what they're doing; they're giving the point defence frigates the most time they can to get their shots off. The frigates have turned so that the weapons on one side can shoot at Koriand'r who is still attacking the Assailant while their other facing can shoot Komand'r as she engages the cruisers. The low power of their weapons isn't much of a threat to the combat-power shields of their larger brethren but they're still capable of harming a Lantern who isn't specifically trying to block them.

Komand'r slashes at one of the primary turrets of the first cruiser as her construct armour begins cracking up under the weight of point defence fire. Koriand'r is forced to create a shield construct to protect her while she attempts to thrust her orange-coated hands through the Assailant's armour.

Alert: battleship's drive charging.

Oh? I thought they'd keep trying for longer than this. Maybe the Captain has realised that his ship isn't really contributing against such small targets. I suppose that it doesn't really matter.

Komand'r flies past the cruisers and envelops herself in orange, diving through the shields of a frigate and into the ship beneath. Hiding in the hull, yes, that might help. Koriand'r turns away from the hull to generate a gun construct and using it to fire a burst of broad spectrum radiation to blind her attackers before switching position.

Alert: battleship's drive activating.

"Pull back now."

The Assailant shimmers and the orange glow from my ring matches it as I prepare to intercept its flight.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
02:41 GMT

The most powerful ships on the seas of Earth are aircraft carriers. The most powerful weapons of Earth overpower its most powerful defensive technologies by a huge margin. These two factors have led quite a lot of science fiction writers to assume that space combat would be similar, small attack ships being the primary way of dealing damage due to their weapons being capable of damaging larger ships while larger ships would struggle to hit them. Star Wars was perhaps the most extreme example, with the first Death Star being destroyed by a single fighter. Babylon 5 had a similar dynamic, Farscape had the Peacekeepers working from Command Carriers, Battlestar Galactica had… Well, Battlestars.

The only counterexample that immediately comes to mind is Star Trek where fighters generally didn't exist until the liberation of Deep Space Nine during the Dominion War and big ships pretty much ruled. Most ships featured… Actually, I can't think of a counterexample. They didn't bother with point defences, and I don't remember armour getting mentioned until the Defiant was built. Phasers and disruptors, torpedoes and shields was what made good ships. Agility meant little; your enemy would always be able to see you and you were mostly fighting with light speed weapons at close range. You needed big ships to contain big reactors and you needed big reactors to power your big shields and power the weapons you were going to use to punch through your enemy's big shields. The reactors on small ships weren't powerful enough to power weapons capable of damaging big ships or shielding the small ships well enough to enable them to survive.

Real space combat is… Quite a lot more variable. The Citadel doesn't want to get overrun by attack craft. However, their warriors don't make particularly good pilots. And they've got a bit of a thing about their battleships being the biggest around. So, they have an entire class of frigates whose job it is to shoot small things and leave shooting big things to their battleships. And that -rather than cowardice- is why Captain Gralg is leaving the combat zone. He'd rather fight us, but he's had the lesson hammered into him that we're not something his flagship is designed to be able to fight.

His ship also isn't all that manoeuvrable, but it does have the best FTL speed of any ship in the local Citadel fleet. That's because its FTL system isn't having to fight against the ship's momentum and sheer mass to make it go from point A to point B. It can just dump full combat power into the drive and boof, off it goes. Normally it would have to hold back a bit so as to avoid leaving its support ships behind, but since the aim here is to leave them behind that isn't something Captain Gralg is worrying about. He's worrying about leaving the two Lanterns attacking his fleet behind and he's worrying about warning the Citadel.

He isn't worrying about me, sitting directly between him and the Citadel in interstellar space with an interdiction field construct. He isn't worried because at the point he set out he knew that there wasn't an interdiction field along his flight path. The only way to intercept his ship would be to know exactly when he left, and at that point he'd already be moving vastly faster than light. FTL sensors and comms that good are rare, and the sheer volume of space would usually foil such an attempt anyway.

Usually.

And then any potential hijacker would get to -if you'll excuse the phrase- witness the firepower of a fully armed and operational battleship. Unless they knew exactly where it would appear and could get inside its primary shield envelope before it could recalibrate. And even then, battleships are a source of pride for the Citadel in a way their smaller ships aren't. These things often have Psion-built enhancements like ludicrously tough hull armour for just tanking hits, prow spatial disruptors for horrifyingly effective ramming actions, highly acute targeting sensors and high-fidelity assault teleporters. I would not want to fight these with a fleet.

Fortunately, I'm not a ship.

The Assailant appears immediately before me in a flash of red, my ring immediately checking the damage,-

Battleship drive inoperative.

-shoving me around to match velocity and rotation as the battleship's hull zooms towards me at a worrisome pace-

Movement matched.

-and the shields come up behind me and a salvo of crumbler rounds fire at the hull directly in front of me.

Hull breached.

And while the weaker inner shields quickly re-establish themselves, I've got just enough time to transition inside.

The universe slows as the Citadelian soldiers in the above-port marines station try reacting to my presence. In battle, the Citadel use marines for boarding ships that have been crippled but not killed. They use power armour and their natural strength to force their way through the damaged hull and engage the crew directly. If this ship has high-fidelity teleporters then there'll be another marine detachment assigned to that as well. Those aren't sent into wrecks but into ships still fighting back, a high risk move for those dispatched as the device has to be careful to match relative velocity if they don't want the marines to get turned to paste inside their target. Of course, if they aren't trying to capture their enemy then they can just send over a bomb instead.

Construct armour forms around me and filaments move out. The process is a lot faster than it used to be, but it's still something that at this speed I can see happening. The Citadel soldiers around me are already at battle stations, armed and armoured. The ring shows me the arms that are already moving to bring their weapons to bear on me and-

Warning: exotic transportation defence active.

-warns me that transitioning while on board wouldn't be clever.

The robot turrets are the highest priority. Only three of them, as their simple programming just isn't adaptable enough for chaotic boarding operations. In situations like this on the other hand the fact that they can't be surprised and don't need thinking time makes them the main threat. By pure chance the one furthest away had its main turret pointing my way when I appeared. It noted that I didn't match Citadelian profiles and opened fire immediately. Plasma rather than laser, which is why the first shot is intercepted by my construct armour rather than striking my armour and environmental shield. Three shots hit me before my crumbler rounds strike it, the first frying its shield generator and the second hitting its main battery.

It gets a fourth shot as it starts to explode and I move on to the other two at the same time as reaching out towards the closest marines with beams of orange light. The second turret manages a single shot which strikes my left shoulder before being shot through with a crumbler round. The third doesn't even manage that, having been facing in the opposite direction to the point where I came in and then the beams hit the marines.

Citadel marine armour is good. Hermetically sealed against vacuum exposure, armoured and force field protected and containing all the integrated communications and sensor technology that any people with pretensions to interstellar dominance should possess.

I have a power ring.

The beams of orange light smash aside the force field, bore through the helmet and strike the Citadelian beneath.

Brand.

Branding.

I shove off, thrusting myself through the room. As sped up as my mind is-

Mental pathway damage limit reached. Acceleration discontinued.

-isn't any more! Plasma bolts slam into me, other Citadelians and the walls, floor and ceiling! Beams of orange light lash out in return, punching through armour and branding those beneath with my mark. My construct armour fails, my armour's kinetic barrier doing little to absorb the heat of the plasma bolts. I keep moving, Citadel soldiers who have already been branded charging their former comrades as I fill them with the desire to aid me. I form construct tower shields as the unaffected soldiers turn their weapons towards the ones who work for me, and use the momentary respite to release the Praexis Demons.

I need as many alive as possible. Eat their guns.

A moment later the fire that had been heading my way drops to next to nothing as the swarm makes itself a more urgent target. Demons evaporate under plasma fire only to reappear from my ring, soldiers branded and not punch, shoulder charge and shoot one another while I fire beam after beam to convert the unaffected.

No alarms, I note. The Citadel doesn't use shipwide alarms, preferring to transmit the messages to individual soldiers.

The three surviving free marines realise that they've lost the room and fall back, the fortified door sealing itself behind them. But they haven't got anywhere to go; none of the Assailant's parasite craft have FTL and I'm still jamming their communications. I land and look at my troops, replacing my construct armour and repairing my power armour as I do so. Around me, marines with orange brands glowing on their chests under their armour pick one another up, strip the dead of their weapons and apply medkits to their wounded.

Good. Now for the rest of the ship.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
02:57 GMT

Given that boarding actions are a feature of local warfare Citadelian bridges are designed to be tough. Bridge stations are fortified, protected by the same material as the outer hull as well as weak force fields. The whole bridge could be exposed to space without preventing anyone here doing their jobs. In addition, automatic gun turrets can emerge from the ceiling and the walls to support the standing marine force. In most fights it is massively excessive, and if I'd tried charging the marines working for me into here I doubt that any of them would have lived.

"Ready, Strike Team Leader?"

The main generators are already under the control of my branded marines. Between them and those we've killed, the Captain now commands a force that is about thirty percent of what he started out with and no way to counterattack. But the loyalists still hold the bridge -which on a Citadelian ship also contains the primary computer core- and the location I want to capture next. Exotic technologies.

The hulking Citadelian next to me makes the clenched right fist gesture of readiness. Then he appears to hesitate before returning it to his gun. "Master?"

"Yes. Speak."

"The soldiers inside. Two of them are my batch-brothers."

"I'll take them alive if at all possible."

"Thank you, master."

It's fascinating. Maybe it's due to their implants and how accustomed they were to having the First's thoughts constantly in theirs, but the Citadelians are adapting to the brand far better than I expected them to. I thought they'd end up like Doctor Jones, near-stupefied with their desire overwritten. As it is, other than a 180 in their loyalties they're just as functional as they were before. Or maybe it's their familiarity with the sorts of task I'm asking them to perform?

Exotic technologies is home to the device preventing me from transitioning and -as it turns out- phasing. Transitioning is useful but not essential. Phasing on the other hand is essential to my plan to take the bridge. It's also home to the ship's Psion work detail. None of them are top tier researchers but I suspect that we're about to run into something unpleasant.

Which is what Praexis Demons are for.

I don't even bother firing crumbler rounds at the force field protecting the doorway, I just wave my left arm and the Demons start sucking on it. Exotic technologies is quite close to the main generators because it needs so much power. The force field and 'facilities' stuff runs on internal power but there was a remote shut down built into the generator controls which was intended to be used in the event that one of the devices went wrong. Or the Psions did something the Citadel didn't like. Exotic technologies also has its own computer system which means that I don't have access to a record of exactly what they've got in there. Standard protocol says that if the shield is up then most of the marines have already left…

The force field goes down, my Demons faceplanting into the reinforced door beyond. Immediately, a Citadelian breaching team comes forward and stabs into it with the x-ionised blades I provided to them. Making precise cuts with the swords is not easy while wearing that armour, but trying to use explosives to get through would be an exercise in futility. A construct would work, but I don't want to give anyone watching more information on my precise capacities than I absolutely have to. And if those inside suddenly open the door I want the marines to take the brunt of whatever attack they've put together in my place.

Huh. Thinking about it, these guys might end up being the last Citadelians left. Sobering.

Cuts made around the edge of the door the breaching team plant clamps on its surface and get a solid grip. The second line squad moves up behind them, guns at the ready. Praexis Demons hover over their heads, ready to surge forward and eat anything that causes me any trouble.

"Breach."

The breaching team lift and push forward, the huge wedges of fortified door they cut free acting as palisades as they enter the exotic technology chamber. As soon as the gaps appear the Praexis Demons fly forward and flow around them. I get a flash of the interior as a plasma bolt from the marine squad inside destroys a Demon and sends it back to my ring. Six marines in cover behind heavy machinery. No support weapons. No sign of the Psions.

The palisades start to take hits, but the breaching team push forward to give the marines behind them space and a moment later my side opens fire. They're mostly just trying to force those inside to keep their heads down; there's no chance they could penetrate the door shields with the weapons they're using but they could get a lucky hit. I send a couple of Praexis Demons to get a look at the rest of the room-.

Agh, some sort of drone weapon. Small, but rapid firing and powerful enough to destroy my Praexis Demons. Eh, as long as you don't try shooting them in the mouth that doesn't actually take too much. The rest of the Praexis try swarming the marines, who respond by stepping back into cover and switching their guns to plasma-flamethrower mode. The Praexis Demons evaporate before their inferno, but that does obscure their line of sight somewhat. I dart forward, flying close to the ceiling as I move around the breaching team and lash out at the defenders' sides with orange beams.

"Nonono!"

Not a Citadelian, they don't breach communications discipline. Who else? Psion, presumably. This section has internal doors I can't scan past, but I can't-

Brand complete.

-tell which of them…

Brand complete.

I form a railgun and load a crumbler round and then fire it at the closest door. A circle of the sensor dampening material disappears, revealing a store room.

"Now!"

The universe slows. Really, they should know not to give me audible cues like that.

A door on the other side of the room opens… Quite quickly, for a door. Still pretty slow to me. On the other side three Psions are hiding at the back of an electronics workshop while a terrified fourth mans a stationary gun. Even as the door gets wide enough apart for me to see them there's a sort of small distortion in the air immediately in front of it. It was probably set to fire as soon as the door got wide enough open for it to fire. It's pointing directly at me so I start moving at the same time as I mentally signal the Praexis Demons to attack it.

Brand complete.

The closest ones will reach it in slightly less time than it would take me to create a laser construct and shoot it, and are far better at getting around defences.

Brand complete.

There's a faint movement in the air between the gun and I, which seems to spread out as it reaches the hot and electrically charged air between the Citadelians. What's left hits me a glancing blow… And doesn't appear to do anything very much. My construct armour trembles slightly but beyond that I don't appear to be affected.

End acceleration.

Compliance.

The Praexis surge forward, the one closest to the gun chomping down on the muzzle and biting it off. The Psion falls back in terror-.

"I surrender! I surrender!"

And the one I assume to be either the most intelligent or the most desperate waves his empty hands to try and get my attention.

Brand complete.

Amplify.

Compliance.

"Accepted. Lie on the floor and make no aggressive movements."

They can't obey fast enough.

Brands complete.

That's the lot. "Cease fire."

Immediately, my marines stop attacking. I float in the direction of the cowering Psions.

The one who surrendered looks up from where he lies on the floor. "Please don't turn us into constructs!"

"Alright. I won't. But you work for me, now."

He nods and smiles in the most toady way he can manage.

"Now get up. You're going to be turning some of these devices off for me."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
04:23 GMT

The doors into the bridge opens and my Lanterns stroll through, Komand'r looking at each of the marines on guard duty with extreme suspicion. "So. A success?"

I step away from the captain's station and spread my arms wide. "What does it look like?"

Once I had exotic technologies under control, I could just phase up through the bridge floor and brand Captain Gralg. Naturally, as captain, his command station is the most heavily fortified though -in a remarkable display of sagacity- he didn't have access to anything that would let him override the turrets. Still, my ability to phase out, dropping underneath the deck and then phasing back in at each bridge station made overrunning the bridge a doddle.

Komand'r doesn't look convinced. "And they are now loyal to you?"

"Sort of. I modified their desires so that they now want to serve me as they once wanted to serve the Citadel."

I see a glimmer of desire from her at that, at the idea of having a legion of soldiers with no thought but how they may best please you. "You didn't tell me that was something we could do."

Koriand'r on the other hand looks a little unwell. "You can.. make people feel whatever you want them to?"

"I can make them want things or not want things, yes. I don't know if you can. It took me a while to learn, and assimilation is much more straight forward." Koriand'r still looks uneasy. "Would you rather I killed them?"

"Rather than violating their minds? I understand that you had to do this to the captain, but all of the rest? Yes."

"Simpleton." Komand'r sneers. "You would really rather he have killed every last one of them? And what if the Citadel Complex demands the chance to scan the ship's interior before allowing it past the inner defences? 'Captain Gralg, what happened to your crew?'."

She doesn't look happier. "If it makes you feel better, I can remove it once we're finished." She nods, mildly mollified. "What state did you leave the rest of the fleet in?"

Komand'r grins. "Not a single ship was left capable of moving under its own power. It was glorious."

"And the exterior of this ship? It needs to look like it's been in a fight?"

Komand'r had walked past me, strolling up to one of the marines and shoving his helmet with her right hand. His armour is far too heavy and resilient to be moved by her push, but he moves his right hand up to knock her away. "Hm. Not mindless."

"No, very much not mindless." I turn to Koriand'r. "How does the ship look?"

"The damage I caused to the hull during the initial attack is quite visible, and the hole you made is also noticeable. There should not be any difficulty in convincing the Citadel that it is genuine."

I nod. "Good. Captain, how long until we arrive?"

"A little under an hour, master, though we will reach the outer perimeter shortly." He smiles at me. "It is good to have clear direction again."

Koriand'r's face falls. "Did you.. make him.. enjoy it?"

"No. Citadelians are used to having the First's thoughts in their minds thanks to their cybernetic implants. When I killed him, that stopped. If he says that he likes it, then… He does."

Komand'r looks the captain over. "Will they survive the battle, do you think?"

"You'd be surprised. Captain Gralg has been filling me in on recent Citadel politics. Captain?"

The Captain grins. "Any Citadelian who rises high enough to become Emperor inevitably becomes unpopular with all of the rest. We all share the First Citadelian's desire to conquer and control. His thoughts are our thoughts, his blood our blood. Emperors inevitably become soft and indolent. With the First Citadelian's voice in our heads, we just grumbled about being told what to do by the Emperor until the First too grew tired of them and had one of his admirals depose him."

Komand'r nods in understanding. "And now he isn't telling you not to…"

"The only reason he isn't already dead is that the Admirals can't decide which of them should take his place."

"If he had any sense, he'd already have nominated one of them as his heir to try and break up their cartel."

"As you say, master. All I have to do to keep the fleet off me is declare for one Admiral over the others."

"And while he's doing that, we'll be hunting down the Emperor and the computer core. Our aim is to turn the Citadel Complex's defences against the rest of the fleet."

Komand'r nods. "And the shipyards?"

"No guarantees, but we are aiming to kill everything. Once the fleet -present company excepted- is vapour, there won't be anything to stop us taking anything large enough to be worth keeping and towing it back to Tamaran."

"We just have to survive first."

"If you'd like to back out-."

Her face hardens. "Hardly. I'm simply trying to be realistic." She thinks for a moment. "What would you say to us-?"

The navigator turns towards me. "Master, we will be returning to subliminal velocity imminently."

"Understood." I turn and head towards the main bridge doors. "Your highnesses, if you wouldn't mind? The Emperor won't demand to scan the entire ship but he will want to look at the bridge."

I hear them fall in behind me as I pass through the doors and head towards the lifts.

Koriand'r rises off the ground and comes alongside me on my right. "Do you know the size of the fleet which the Citadel has guarding Citadel Complex?"

"Yes." I raise my right hand and generate an approximate diagram of their disposition. "Assuming that nothing has changed since yesterday, one dreadnaught, twelve battleships like this one, about two hundred cruisers and far too many smaller vessels. In addition, there will probably be at least one battleship-equivalent from the Branx and from the Psions, and perhaps a smattering of Gordanian ships. And at least eight times the tonnage in static defences. Not counting Citadel Complex itself or the anti-ship weapons on the planet below."

Komand'r comes alongside me on my left. "Far too many for us to fight directly. Unless you've been holding anything else back?"

"If I had to fight them directly, I would join with the Ophidian. I do know how to use more sophisticated constructs than I have shown you so far, but they require more specialist training. I believe-" I land in the lift. "-that this plan is sound." I swirl my right hand around, generating a new image. "I suggest familiarising yourselves-" A bolt of orange flashes from my ring to each of theirs. "-with the internals of the Citadel Complex."

They nod as I use my ring to access the bridge. We're out of FTL and the face of a Citadelian I don't particularly recognise is on the main screen.

"What are you doing back, Gralg?"

"We were attacked, Admiral. By Orange Lanterns. My ship is in urgent need of repairs and my fleet in need of reinforcements. Permission to approach and make my report to the Emperor."

The face on the screen snarls. "Granted. Maintain course and heading. I'll get a work crew in place and wake the Emperor."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
05:38 GMT

I feel the faintest of rumblings as the Assailant.. lands on Citadel Complex. Normally, when a ship of this size arrives at a space station it docks. A few heavy duty clamps grab the hull, gangways are extended and form atmosphere seals between the ship's airlocks and those of the station. If the two parties really trust one another there might also be a system for automatic resupply, but from the look of the Citadel shipyards it would appear that they prefer using tender vessels for that. It makes sense; they might be fine automating resupply for their own ships but I imagine that their business partners would want to check things manually. Using tenders for everyone means that they don't have to bother with two systems. Jarko does the same thing. Amalak uses an automated system for his employees and has tenders for his hirelings. The Spider Guild system is -naturally- completely automated.

The Citadel Complex is huge, but even it isn't big enough for a battleship to land inside. Or rather, it isn't designed with that in mind. Volume-wise it could fit inside about a hundred times over, if you didn't worry about the contents at all. Instead, there's a sort of… Socket system, where the part of the Assailant's hull which has the main external entrance plugs into the station. The ship side entrance doesn't have an airlock; it's clearly designed for this purpose only. It means that a huge number of people and supplies can be taken off or put aboard extremely quickly, minimising turnaround time.

It also makes it fairly easy to assault out of.

The work teams aren't surprised to see the marines waiting inside the ship when the hatch opens; they'd just assume that the whole complement wants to spend as much time on shore leave as possible. And those amongst them who are slaves generally aren't inclined to question the people who can administer physical chastisement -up to and including eating parts of them- at will. They aren't even worried that the marines are all carrying their weapons. That's pretty normal for Citadelians. And if the Captain isn't with them when he was so eager to report to the Emperor in person, well. His ship's been shot up. He's a busy man.

They don't start worrying until the guns come up.

"For the Admiral!"

The first rank accelerates to a sprint as fast as their bulk allows, firing shots at any Citadelian not with us. The second rank advances behind them at a walk and the rear rank uses their power armour to leap up, firing while in the air. Their armour doesn't have an AI but it does have an automatic targeting coordination system. Citadelian infantry guns aren't powerful enough to kill a Citadelian soldier in full power armour quickly unless several guns shoot the same target at the same time, overloading the force field and penetrating the armour. The observable effect is that while there's no communication between soldiers, squads all shoot the same target until that target is down, then move on to the next.

They might not be all that clever, but what they can do they do very well.

Return fire in the first few seconds is nonexistent. Aside from the surprise our Citadelians' threat designation system prioritises armed targets. Ten seconds in and our soldiers are filtering through the spare shipping containers of parts and supplies or standing atop them on overwatch, the defending marines dead on the deck.

Good, good.

I look down at the point defence drone the Psions cobbled together and then throw it into the dock, sending the activation signal once it's well inside. It stops, scans its environment and starts shooting internal cameras. While I don't mind the defenders knowing that someone is coming, I'd rather them not know to prepare for Lanterns until it's too late to do so. Positron containment beams lash out at various points along the walls, and a moment later I get an all-clear signal.

"We're on."

The princesses and I fly out of our sensor obscuring bunker in the cargo deck and zoom into the station. I wonder if they realise that they've now made it further than their grandfather's fleet ever did? The front wave of marines is about two thirds of the way to the inner entrances. We're not particularly close to command here, but a short blitz through Citadel Complex's entertainment section should put us in roughly the right place to kill the Emperor. The Citadel's main computer system is on the far side of command. Now I need to task a squad to evacuate the slave workers-.

Force fields activate at the far end of the room, blocking most exits. Komand'r and Koriand'r fly ahead, construct tower shields appearing as they watch for incoming attack. I generate railguns and load crumblers, firing my first volley just as the first autoturrets appear. The defensive system here was designed under the assumption that this was somewhere an enemy who made it this far would be likely to try to board and there are a lot of them. Fortunately, we planned with them in mind. Squads facing high rate of fire weapons duck into concealed positions, rising up to shoot the gun's force field before returning to cover to allow their own to recharge. Squads facing slower firing high power weapons keep moving, trying to deny a multi-kill shot to the gun that can easily blast through their shields and any cover they could get behind.

Which leaves we three Lanterns facing the four anti-ship guns. These are intended to shoot through the hull of any ship landing troops and out of the other side. Before the Citadel reached its present size they were external guns and -in extremis- this section can be opened to space to allow them to fire at targets outside the station. Unlike the smaller battery powered turrets these draw power from the station's main generator, which means that they actually aren't all that slow to fire.

The guns aren't pointing at me, the simple program controlling their actions immediately realising that we're far too small and agile to reliably hit. Instead, they try to fire directly forward through our marines and into our ship. Komand'r and Koriand'r block a shot each with their construct shields. Both are knocked back by the strike and both shields are badly cracked. I manifest additional railguns and start shooting at the same time as generating a barrier of my own.

You. Will. Not.

Two anti-ship plasma cannons vent their fury against my barrier as my crumbler rounds eat through the force fields protecting them from-.

Warning: teleporters active.

But I'm jamming-!?

"Base to base teleportation-"

I see robot guns appearing on the-. The cargo transporters! Komand'r replaces her shield and generates a sword as she flies towards her gun. Koriand'r is a little slower off the mark and spots a heavy turret as it materialises, locks onto her and fires. Rapid fire turrets blindside my marines in three places and I see shields overload and soldiers fall.

"-unaffected."

The guns shooting me cease in order to recharge, their protective coverings moving over their muzzles. Recharge time is about twenty seconds.

"Agh!"

Komand'r tumbles in the air as a heavy turret shoots her in the side, her constructs visibly fading as she stops focusing on how much she wants the guns destroyed. She's not actually hurt, but that could change if she gets hit again without getting her head back in the game.

My crumblers eat through the armour covering one of my assigned guns. The gun itself has a force field around the barrel, but that only takes one more shot to wreck. One down. Next gun.

Koriand'r detours to assist a marines squad-. No! Why would you do that? And she… wants to so ordering her not to wouldn't actually help. I budgeted for this but it's still irritating that it happened so soon. My railguns are chewing through the armour -I don't know what it's made of but some clever Psion integrated materials which resist whatever it is which makes crumblers work- but we've only got seconds until they fire again.

Komand'r rallies, air around her rippling as she slams into the force field protecting her gun sword first. The first shield flickers and dies and she goes to work on the second. Koriand'r flies at the gun she was assigned to, her marines pounding along behind her and assisting their fellows as they go.

And then the gun armour retracts to allow them to fire again.

Komand'r manages to get her sword through to the gun before it fires. Plasma spurts in all directions as muzzle containment fails but she's still hit by enough to finish off her shield and construct armour. Her power armour looks somewhat melted as well, but she's still alive and the partial misfire has ruined the gun. She tries pushing herself up but the armour is too damaged to allow it. Orange light runs all over it as she works to correct that.

Koriand'r rushes a shield and throws herself in the way of her gun once more. She's a little too slow, not managing to soak more than a fraction of the beam before her shield and construct armour fail. What's left of the beam scythes down most of the marines she 'rescued', burns through several cargo pods and then burns into the Assailant. Can't judge the damage quite yet.

My railguns tear apart my second gun the moment it shows itself, then I go to work on Koriand'r's.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
05:44 GMT

The Citadelian I'm healing tries to rise just as soon as he's physically able, and his armour screeches in protest. Another orange pulse to repair that and he rolls to his feet and lumbers back towards his squad without a second thought. That's the last of them. Losses on the attack were… Well within budget, and we're ready for the next advance. The breaching squads are already working on the doors leading to the entertainment section.

"Captain Gralg, what news?"

"I declared us loyal to Admiral Dakyn, master. I felt that might serve to explain your presence."

"Good thinking." I lift off the ground and fly over to the soon-to-be-breached entrance. "And what are the other ships doing?"

"Moving out of the way of the Citadel Complex's defence systems. No one likes the Emperor enough to risk being shot by Dakyn's other supporters, but no one wants to try getting to here to join in. Heh, and Dakyn's out of the loop completely. Not that the Emperor would believe that."

"What's the Emperor saying?"

"Plenty of things. Heh, some of which don't make a lot of sense considering that we're clones. He gave up on trying to appeal to my loyalty pretty quick, and he's been cursing Dakyn over the comms since. Dakyn had no idea what was going on, but the Emperor's ranting made it pretty clear that if the Emperor survives then Dakyn won't."

"So he's effectively on our side."

"That's why none of the fleet are trying to shoot us in the arse. Eh, not enough to do anything. And it turns out that the Emperor has a vellocet habit, which hasn't exactly impressed anyone." He makes a huffing, grunting noise. "Working for you is far better, master."

Oh, you flatterer. You're just saying that because I rewrote your brain. "Let me know if anything requires my attention. Orange Lantern out."

The breaching team starts clamping their handles onto the cut segments, ready to drive them forwards. Ring, scan… And feed that information to the Citadelians' armour.

Compliance.

Nothing but hover drone platforms immediately behind the door. They're not large enough to kill Citadelian marines quickly, but they can drain shields and spot for marksmen. As well as revealing the Lantern presence. Hm. I attach a tether to the Psion drone and pull it down to me.

There's an almighty tearing clank as large pieces of the blast door come free and the breaching squad advance. The drones on the far side don't open fire immediately. Probably waiting until they can get a clear shot off. Then the next squad advances, their helmets' displays already showing them where the drones are. They exchange fire with the three closest drones, and moments later the drones are down and the marines are all standing.

Koriand'r looks at me expectantly. "What is our next target?"

A flare of orange and I've created a copy of the Psion drone, adding a small gravity repulsor drive. "We don't have one immediately. We let the Citadelians clear the entertainment section and only intervene if they can't progress." I send the modified drone after the Citadelians. Curious that they've never adopted support drones for their forces. Probably the First wanted to keep control of everything directly. Or maybe he felt that his offspring wouldn't be able to maintain them in the field?

"But we are far stronger! Fighting alongside them, we will advance far faster and with fewer deaths."

"They're Citadelians, Kori." I can hear the contempt in Komand'r's voice, though she's careful not to let herself feel hate. She's learned that lesson. "Killing their kind is why we are here. Don't think that if he wasn't controlling their minds they would hesitate to kill us."

The entertainment sector of Citadel Complex is a little like a huge shopping centre designed to cater to a warrior race. Some establishments are slave run, owned either by Citadelians retired due to injury or infirmity or by aliens from allied power groups. Others are owned by the house, a way of parting the Emperor's subordinates from the money he just paid them. And some are mutually owned, like most of the fighting pits that serve as a means of dispute resolution and entertainment. Most fights aren't actually to the death; killing unenslaved aliens is usually a slap on the wrist thing but killing other Citadelians just isn't on. Fights can take just about any form, from ritual Klingon style head butting contests to armed combat with a referee. For death fights there are actual gladiatorial arenas, though most of those are run as PvE. It looks like most of the workforce has pulled out…

"And every moment we don't show ourselves is one less moment they have to prepare a Psion surprise."

"It… I understand your logic. But it galls me to let our allies fight on unsupported."

"Remember the Hierarchy. Remember why we're here, and realise that our cause and our actions are one and the same. There is no conflict."

Koriand'r looks away. "This is not how I was trained."

I create another two drones and send them to cover our forces. They can't maintain their stealth effect while moving, but they're small targets and it doesn't look like things survive long under concentrated fire around here anyway.

"Overwhelming force? Only giving up what you can afford to, while preserving what is most precious? I remember being taught that."

Koriand'r narrows her eyes. "I think I remember our lessons somewhat differently, sister."

"What would you like to do with them?"

"Why not maroon them as you did the Gordanians?"

"Because the Gordanians have the skills necessary to start a settlement and the Citadelians don't. They're soldiers, and… That's about it."

"Even so-."

"Tamaran is going to need more soldiers, both to man your ships and train a new army. Would you take them?" She hesitates to respond. "And that's leaving aside the fact that I don't actually like putting people under my influence like this. Would you have me do it for the rest of their lives?"

Lightly armed Citadelians charge at the advancing line from one of the fighting pits. They've got the same plasma projectors as our side but only light armour. The beneficial effect targeting protocol markers is having on our side is immediately obvious when the attackers pick their targets, pointlessly firing on individual opponents rather than combine their fire. They wouldn't be able to stop the attack, but they might have been able to kill one or two.

"Does it cost you anything?"

"Don't know. Haven't tested it enough. Not that I've noticed."

One of our squads splits off to check the interior of a building. Looks like a pub. No Citadelians, though a Branx is standing behind the bar and.. several clearly terrified slaves are cowering in various corners. The Strike Team Leader sizes up the barkeeper while the rest of the squad checks the property.

"Orders, master?"

"The Branx can stay. Evacuate the slaves and then return to the assault."

There's a sort of.. grunt of acknowledgement, then he gives the orders. The barkeeper appears to protest and his bar receives a plasma bolt by way of admonition.

"Koriand'r, slaves incoming. Give them a basic check-up and then load them into the shuttles."

"Very well. But this discussion is not over."

"As you will. Komand'r-" Ah. "-it appears that our soldiers are about to begin encountering serious resistance. Prepare for combat."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
05:58 GMT

The thing about Emperor Damyn -when compared to most emperors- is that he isn't special.

He wasn't born into an ancient dynasty and raised in the expectation that he would one day occupy a position of great power, educated and trained by the best tutors and generals his family could find. He wasn't so outstanding an individual that he rose to stratospheric heights due to superlative personal skills and achievements that set him apart from his fellow man. Citadelians are clones. They start identical, and aside from rare attempts they hardly ever vary the formula that has worked so well for so long. He was given the same education that all of those around him received and experienced the same social factors that they did. He rose from infantryman to officer not by being more capable than those around him but by being luckier.

Oh, as he grew older he seemed to get the hang of the political elements slightly faster than those around him, but given his origins he could be almost totally certain that was the result of environmental factors. And then, when the previous Emperor finally failed the First for the last time, he was bumped up for reasons he couldn't understand. Implanted with a few more upgrades and compelled to remain on the Citadel Complex. Given that the First would have been in his thoughts more than in those of any other officer… Did he know that something was going on? Or just..? Feel powerless despite his apparent power? Or was it just frustration at being at the top with nowhere else to go?

Since he was basically a seat-cover for the First's throne, I suppose that I shouldn't be too surprised that he developed a drug habit. But being visibly out of it when making an important call? That was just stupid. Did he get too used to having the First nudge him whenever he had to do something important, or has the stress of actually being in charge already turned him from a recreational user to a full on dependant?

No idea. But it looks like he hasn't lost all of his planning skills.

Across a wide open plaza force field barricades and stationary support weapons are covering every approach to the command section. True armoured vehicles and fliers couldn't fit in that part of the station, but between drones and the heavy variant power armour being worn by the elite guard they've done their best under the circumstances. Marines in my service are finishing clearing the entertainment section behind them of slaves -and suggesting that the remaining residents might want to find somewhere else to be- while others are forming up in preparation to assault the defences. They're outnumbered about three to one and every so often the defenders take a long range shot with their heavy weapons at the buildings they're using for concealment. The internal structures of Citadel Complex are resistant to infantry scale weapons but heavy weapons go through them easily.

I try scanning the elite. Twenty three of them in total, but what exactly does their armour do?

Unable to identify.

No, that would have been too much to hope for.

"Strike Team Leaders. Switch to cold guns and return fire."

Obedience is immediate, and I feel a momentary pang about the influence I have over these people. They're malevolent and most likely irredeemable, but…

I wouldn't trust anyone else with this power. Heh, even though I'm going to be giving it to hundreds of people. It's not a contradiction; I'll just be keeping an eye on how they use it, hoping for the best and quietly expecting the worst. Do I trust myself with it? I certainly don't like using it, but the alternative was.. killing them. And possibly not being able to sneak in here at all. The advantage this has over assimilation is that the organic person survives and this can be turned off. If Tamaran takes me up on my offer, I'll have to leave it on permanently. There's no way they would integrate peacefully into any society… I don't think. Amalak said that he wanted some. Would that work?

As my marines begin moving into firing positions they start taking plasma fire from the front line of infantry on the other side of the plaza. Range is seldom a problem during fights on space stations, though plasma attenuation might have been a problem if we tried coming in through the outer hull. Rather, they had been holding off firing their smaller weapons due to the need to score multiple hits on the same target to pierce their shields. Their rear lines are holding fire, perhaps waiting to see if our side intends to charge. Their heavy weapons cease their sporadic firing, aiming at points where our side appears to be massing.

And then the cold guns open fire.

Interesting thing about cold guns: due to the nature of the weird, standard-model-of-physics-breaking thing it does, most types of force field don't work against it. Which means that those barricades the loyalists have erected do little to stop the white beams of absolute zero striking home wherever they're pointed. The armour material the barricades are made of causes them to serve as reasonable insulators, designed as they are to maintain integrity against plasma fire. As a result, localised super-cooling causes them to crack and fracture and expose the gun emplacements behind them. Other shots hit the guns themselves, cracking barrels and containment bottles. The incredible cold combined with the weapons' own safety measures causes most of them to fail safe, but I see three go critical and explode while seven others experience serious leaks. The fliers fall from the air almost immediately, their anti-gravity systems completely unable to keep functioning when cooled to zero Kelvin.

And the effect on the infantry…

Mister Snart has really been soft-pedalling people.

The outer layer of Citadelian power armour is designed to be a good conductor in order to prevent multiple plasma or laser shots to the same location piercing it. The same is true of the muscle enhancement systems underneath. The only thing that really helps is that the armour doesn't have cybernetic plugs to aid the user.

It doesn't help by much.

It takes about two seconds for a beam focusing on an infantryman to freeze them solid. Not that they fire like that; the combined effect of several beams works just as well and whole squads are firing. They.. work along the lines of our enemy, six beams striking their targets one after the other and leaving frosted statues in their wake.

Return fire picks up immediately, everyone firing, plasma trails making it look like the air is on fire. The armour of the elite soldiers appears to have something… Some sort of ultra-insulation or a plasma barrier, perhaps? That allows them to survive getting hit. I'm not even sure that the cold beams are making contact.

I see the first of my marines start taking hits. They respond by moving, trying to prevent themselves taking multiple hits in the same point and getting behind cover before their shields fail completely. But there's a lot of fire coming back this way and several go down. Most of those that do won't be getting back up.

"Those weapons of yours are rather effective. Are they of Psion manufacture, or did you bring them from Maltus?"

"No, those were designed on Earth."

"Fascinating." She almost.. purrs it.

"But I'm afraid that they're not for sale. And I'll be taking them back from the Citadelians once we're finished here."

"Oh, is that really necessary? I'll admit to hating the Citadel but they.. die rather well. I could think of dozens of uses I could put them to."

"No shortcuts, Komand'r. If you want nifty technology, get Tamaran reindustrialised faster and develop it yourselves. If you want my aid, I have limits. If you can manage it on your own, good luck to you."

The defenders are down to a fifth of their starting number while ours have taken far fewer casualties. In several places the defenders are wavering and pulling back. Good show. Now, what are-.

The elite guard charge, stowing their plasma weapons and opening fire with integrated positron beam projectors. They cross the intervening plaza at a loping, power armour assisted run, ignoring cold beams as they come. In return their own weapons are.. cutting marines down with worrying regularity. They apparently down shields far faster than plasma. Not.. sure why they weren't using them from the start. They're two thirds of the way across when our units start switching back to plasma and pulling back into the entertainment section, aiming to limit the elite's mobility. And stem the bleeding from the elite's attack.

"Is it time for us to involve ourselves directly?"

"I believe so. Koriand'r?" I glance over to where she's greeting the latest group of former slaves. A couple of Tamaraneans are amongst them.

"I would rather remain here-." Her ring dims, and the light she was using to mend their wounds ceases. She looks momentarily shamefaced, then rallies. "I will oversee the evacuation."

"Very well. Komand'r, with me. We need one to interrogate. Kill the rest."

"My pleasure."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:01 GMT

I don't bother shooting cameras as I fly. As soon as we reach our destination whoever's running the defence will know who we are and it just isn't worth the delay to keep them in ignorance for a mere five seconds. The corridors and initial areas of the entertainment sector flash past as Komand'r and I fly through. She's grinning savagely, balls of orange light forming around her hands. I generate a single railgun and load a crumbler round, but I think… The Citadel is a blight on this part of the universe. It's fundamentally incapable of becoming anything else due to the nature of the people who make it up. Yes, I think I'm in the right mental place to use orange light energy pulses instead.

The ring shows me the elite guards advancing into the arcades. Our marines have pulled back further than that and are preparing ambushes. Death amongst the elite from the initial exchange are.. zero. Hm. That's theoretically within the performance thresholds of really good power armour and our marines weren't targeting them specifically… Still, there could be something clever going on.

Ahead, a single elite guard runs down an arcade at full sprint, possibly trying to trigger whatever ambush our marines have prepared. Either that or get behind them. He can see us, but he doesn't stop. He just raises his positron beam slightly before the ball of orange light from Komand'r strikes him in the chest. I slow to observe the eff-

Fzp.

-ect.

The positron beam hits my construct armour in my centre of mass, the beam playing over my chest plate and leaving a pale orange line where it travels. Komand'r's bolt appears to have spent itself against him with no significant effect. The positron beam cuts out as he switches to a one-handed firing posture and draws his plasma weapon. Problematic.

Let's see if mine do any better. I take a moment to muster my loathing, my need for the target to no longer exist. Then I raise my left hand.

"Be not."

A line of orange flashes out from my ring, quick enough that it appears to be instant. I run it left to right, his plasma weapon evaporating and his.. armour… Remaining inviolate. Okay, the plasma weapon is external. It's not covered by the same protection as the rest of the armour…

Praexis Demons, go. Distract and consume the elite guards.

The Demons fly out far faster than normal. Are they eager to get stuck in or is that an effect of my focus? Have to experiment later. Three latch themselves onto our first opponent -to no appreciable effect- and the rest flow around him and into the surrounding corridors. The elite soldier staggers to a stop and tries to bring his positron beam to bear against me once more. I evade, ducking under the beam as it slices a hole through the wall to my left and the ceiling above us. My railgun fires in response, the crumbler hitting a stupid Praexis Demon and evaporating it load a new one! My second shot hits his left leg. No effect. Ring?

Crumbler round was destroyed without making contact.

The elite soldier gets his positron beam into the mouth of one of the Praexis Demons and fires. For a moment the Demon swells, then bursts and evaporates. How-?

Accelerate.

Compliance.

Okay, positron weapons work by firing clouds of carefully contained positrons into solid matter, annihilating electrons as they encounter them. This releases energy and often causes the suddenly positively charged matter to do all sorts of exciting things. It shouldn't do anything to my construct barrier as that isn't comprised of matter. It's the same reason why constructs are immune to cold beams: no matter to still. No electrons to neutralise. So, what? The damage to my construct armour came from energy released when the positrons were exposed to the air? Powerful, if it can tear apart a Praexis Demon faster than they can feed.

But that doesn't explain his armour just ignoring everything. I mean, yes, crumbler rounds can theoretically be stopped by sufficiently lucky point defences as they need to strike a solid surface in order to trigger. No point defences are visible, so..? Active plasma shield? No, those are clearly visible and horribly inefficient outside of a vacuum, Okay, Psions, maybe they've created something with a similar performance profile but without the disadvantages… Wouldn't explain the effect on constructs, but if I assume that's what's happening how do I get through it? A singularity projector might well work, but I need this station more or less intact in order to destroy the fleet outside. And I don't want to risk breaking space-time.

Oh, flipping heck. All that time I spent trying to get the princesses not to use melee weapons…

I take an Nth metal cutlass off my equipment harness and charge.

Mental pathway damage limit reached. Acceleration discontinued.

I roll left as a positron beam comes straight for my face and fire a positron beam of my own back at him. There's a slight shimmer -I was right- but no real damage. Okay, reacts differently to positrons? Nothing on the database about a force field with that performance profile. The soldier twists his hands and two blades of dull blue energy appear, held in a guard position. And I suspect that he knows how to use them rather better than I do.

Of course, the fact that I can't transition doesn't mean that I can't fly really fast.

I jerk back in the air an instant before he slashes with his right sword, my momentum being absorbed by my ring. Next, I yank myself around to his right while his own blade is momentarily out of position. He tries sidestepping to void my attack, but power armour sword dancing is something you need lots of practice to get right and he isn't quite quick enough to prevent my cutlass hitting his right upper arm.

There's a crackling white discharge of energy, then my construct armour dims to prevent me being blinded by the brilliant flash! I back up out of riposte range and wait to see what the result is. It passes a second later, revealing my opponent still functional… Ish. The outer surface of his armour is heavily corroded, his energy blades have died and his positron beam is clearly inoperable. And I can scan h-.

There's a surge of radiation as his positron source loses containment and the anti-electrons inside neutralise every electron they can in a ferocious pulse of radiation. When my construct armour decides that it's safe for me to look again there's.. not much left of this elite soldier and the floor where he once was is pitted, cratered and partly molten. Right then. I was planning on destroying this place anyway.

"That sword, what is it?"

"Nth metal. Usually you'd have to beat up a Thanagarian to get one. I killed the First's bodyguard." I take another out of subspace and float it over to her. "Strike and evade. Work from the periphery. I'll stop their advance."

She takes hold of the sword with her right hand, testing the weight and balance for a moment. "My pleasure." The air buckles as she flies away, her existing construct armour vanishing in a puff of orange and being replaced by a heavier form.

Now, what will I be flying into?

While I've been distracted the elite soldiers have stormed down the arcades, and… Flanked the marine ambushes by charging through the walls they were using for concealment. I can't even definitely identify the marines' former forward positions, there's just.. so little left. I can see a crater where one of the elite appears to have lost containment -weight of fire, perhaps?- but other than that they're all still in action.

I generate a railgun and rapid fire, shooting out all of the walls between me and the closest elite soldier before flying through at maximum speed. The elite soldier is facing away from me, positron beam firing at point plank range at a marine who has already lost his left arm. I slash at his back and fly on past out of the hole which once contained the shop window, slashing again to cut through the plasma gun of the elite soldier there. He drops his gun and goes to ignite his sword, but I've already struck the force field protecting his head. I'm already flying upwards as the first one detonates.

Okay, next-

Fzp fzp fzp.

-target. Three elite in a triangular formation, turning their attention from gunning down my marines as they fall back to take a shot at me. I jerk, jink and finally trigger my armour's phasing system. That gives them a momentary pause as beams pass through me and then I've closed the distance, phasing back in, re-establishing my construct armour and slashing the right arm of the closest with my cutlass.

Next.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:09 GMT

The surviving marines begin forming up once more as I float over to where Komand'r stands admiring the icy statues of the defenders. "I see that you were successful."

She turns towards me, a cruel smile on her face. "It wasn't easy. Once I breached their armour there was such a small window. Then I remembered what you said; that assimilation was the most horrifying thing one being could do to another." She pats her new acquisition on his right cheek. "That simplified matters somewhat."

I nod. The Citadelian Construct Lantern looks badly burned. The process must have finished just as he lost containment. Either that or Komand'r ripped the armour off in a less than delicate manner. His face is blank, impassive. I never thought to find out whether they can.. feel pain like this.

"What do you want me to ask him?"

"We need information on the disposition of other forces on Citadel Complex, any traps the Emperor has for us. Any more novel weapons the Psions have given him. You can compel him to answer easily enough, or call him into your ring. That immediately gives you everything he knows, though it can be somewhat-"

Komand'r holds out her right hand.

"-overwhelm-."

"It isn't working." She frowns. "I'm wanting him into the ring but it isn't happening. What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. It might be something to do with your ring already being a person… Not sure. Just ask him manually."

Her frown graduates to becoming a small scowl, but she nods. "Very well. You, thing. Tell me what your master has planned for us!"

"Nothing. We were his only loyal defence."

Komand'r looks surprised. "This is it?"

"The defence of Citadel Complex is mostly fleet based. There are cargo handlers, civilians and slaves, but we were virtually all that he had in terms of loyal soldiers."

"Not bothered, are you?"

"You might be content to simply achieve our objective. I want blood." She takes a couple of deep breaths, then turns and punches the ice-Citadelian next to her! Shards of armour and meat explode outwards in all directions, raining down across the plaza. That seems to momentarily satisfy her. She turns back and gestures to the enemy wounded with her left hand. "And what of these?"

One of our marines comes forward with his plasma gun in hand and jabs the muzzle at them, grunting interrogatively as he does so.

"No, that would be wasteful. Ring, brand and heal."

Compliance.

Our marines didn't leave all that many alive. Most of those who survived fell in the opening exchange from exploding support weapons. It won't make up what we lost, but I'm sure they'll manage to make themselves usef-.

"What is that?" I turn from my work as Koriand'r flies over the plaza at speed. She's looking at the Construct Citadelian, and she keeps looking as she lands and walks closer. "What have you done to him?"

Brand complete.

Komand'r turns away from her sister and walks slowly towards the passageway leading to the next section. "Isn't it clear? You, slave." She reaches back with her right hand and clicks her fingers towards her new acquisition. "What's your name?"

"Grad, mistress."

"Grad, run ahead and see if there are any ambushes set up."

"Yes, mistress."

Brand complete.

I wave my left hand, creating a cutaway image of this part of Citadel Complex. Not far to go-.

"Master, the ships have begun firing on each other. Your orders?"

"Get mobile. Shoot back at anyone who shoots at you, but don't overcommit and don't go anywhere near the stationary defences. The Assailant getting destroyed would be inconvenient."

"As you command, so shall it be."

"Why did you let her do that?"

Koriand'r is looking decidedly unhappy about her sister's acquisition. "Because we need information. Are all of the slaves evac-?"

"So she turns him to orange light? His body denied the peace of death, his mind enslaved and his soul beyond the reach of any afterlife?"

"No, I can finish him off. I'm not sure exactly-."

"And your slaves? Are they aware? Do they..? Suffer in this condition?"

"Yes, they're aware. No, I don't think they actually-" I see Teekl. "-suffer. And the only ones I have… Aside from one who was transformed by someone else, are Demons. Inherently malevolent creatures with no chance of redemption. I am not unaware of the moral issues involved in assimilating someone. I brought them to your attention in the first place. But could we please continue this discussion after we're back on Tamaran?" She looks away, then grudgingly nods. "Right. I think our next stop should be primary power. It's not far from here."

Komand'r looks back and spends a moment considering the diagram. "Why not just push on to command?"

"Because anything they've got left that could hurt us will require huge amounts of power. I don't believe that the Emperor can win, but he might be able to make us lose. I don't care which of his ships he uses the external weapons to shoot but losing the Assailant would make evacuating harder. As would be a scuttling charge that prevents us destroying any surviving fleet elements."

Komand'r shrugs. "Why not both? Take your Demons to the generator while my sister and I lead your marines against command. If this-" She looks around us. "-is all they could muster I doubt whatever they have left will even give us pause."

Hm. She has a point. And I don't want the fight outside to conclude before we finish our work here. Whether those ships would end up being on the Emperor's side or not.

I nod. "Alright." I expand the construct image to show the main teleportation platform to command. "Obviously, you can't use this for your initial attack. But if you force your way inside you can use it to bring in the rest of the marines." They both nod and I turn away from the image towards the assembled marines, now joined by a handful of those who minutes ago were their deadly enemies. "Marines of the Assailant, it is time for the final push! Capture the command centre and kill the Emperor!"

Fists pound the air. "Rahgh!"

"Follow the orders of my subordinates." I generate two large railgun constructs, load crumblers and point them at the ground. It'll be better to make my own passageway than go through an easily predictable route. "I will join you as soon as I have disabled primary power. Fall out!"

"Rahgh!"

I fire my railguns and then fly down the hole, Praexis Demons spreading out before me.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:16 GMT

I lower my railgun slightly. "While I do appreciate you yielding promptly, I am a little surprised."

The wizened Citadelian in front of me shrugs. "I've seen seventeen Emperors come and go. This one wasn't anything special."

I look at the soldiers standing at ease on the other side of primary power's fortifications while their leader negotiates with me. "And.. your detail?"

"One didn't get a clue." He sniffs. "He won't be a problem anymore."

Ruthless, pragmatic… I've really got to see if I can keep this one alive.

"If you've been through this before, I'm sure you know why I'm here."

He nods. "You want to turn off the power to external weapons before the Emperor decides that he's bigger than the Citadel and shoots up the fleet."

A natural assumption. An Admiral carrying out a putsch wouldn't want the fleet crippled. I do, but I was planning on using the more indiscriminate fixed defences rather than Citadel Complex's guns. "I wouldn't mind cutting off the whole command deck actually, but yes."

He nods again. "Sure, we can do that. You want to come oversee things?"

"Naturally."

He turns around, making a small motion with his right hand as he does so. I presume one of the Citadelians behind the barricades presses something, because the force field protecting them deactivates. Then he starts walking towards the entry to the reactor chamber. "Bit of a surprise about the Tamaraneans."

"It looked like the whole attack was a surprise."

"Nah. I felt the First's voice in my head-" He points at the visible part of his implants with his right hand. "-stop, same as everyone else. After that it was only a matter of time. Dakyn's smart. He'll be a decent Emperor." He glances back. "Unless you lose."

"I didn't think that the First's existence was common knowledge."

He snorts as the blast doors open and he leads the way towards the power control station. "I revered the First my whole life, but I always thought the whole 'voice of the First' thing was a metaphor. Sure, I got smarter the more implants I got, but that's what they were for, right? Then, boom. You killed him and that.. instinct was gone."

"You seem remarkably calm about it."

"If I'd got dumber, I'd probably be angrier. But as it is, someone who used to be able to control my actions and.. thoughts can't. No Citadelian would accept being controlled like that. Not if they knew what was happening. And as far as I can tell, I'm as smart as ever. Maybe a little more self-interested. Last couple of Emperors at least made a token fight of it. But, that could just be age."

"You knew that the First died?"

"Heh. Yeah. He spent just enough time here after putting on that ring to tell everyone to watch him. So we did." He smiles at the thought. "I didn't even really believe that he was the First until he died." He starts up the steps to the reactor control platform. "I mean, we all look the same, don't we?"

"So why are Tamaraneans being here a surprise? Do challengers usually keep aliens out of it?"

"They're not usually front and centre like this, but we've had aliens involved before. Usually mercenaries. But I haven't seen a Tamaranean warrior since we conquered them. I didn't think they'd side with one Citadelian over another."

"I needed Lanterns, they wanted power rings."

"And you've got some deal with Dakyn so everyone's happy." He doesn't look quite so sure about it. "Reason I ask is, after their attack here failed we made… A few modifications to Citadel Complex. Probably easiest just to show you."

He pulls a lever, and a quiet humming I'd been hearing in the background falls in volume. Not quite silence, but the reduction is quite noticeable. "Power down. When we did a rebuild after the fight with Tamaran I had separate shutdown systems put in. Just so the next guy wouldn't smash the place up to spite the guy he was deposing. Or the other way around."

"You worked here long?"

He pulls another lever and a heavy metal shutter covering what I presume to be a window to the main reactor starts to slide away, golden light shining out. "I'm the oldest Citadelian I know of. I've spent half my life looking after the Citadel Complex. Couldn't tell you exactly how long that was." He turns a knob, then pushes a few more buttons. "Take a look."

Odd, but alright. I float towards the window. The ring has records of most reactor setups that could power a space station like this, so it shouldn't-.

The…

Heck…

A naked, grey haired man surrounded by flickering golden light hangs suspended in… Ring?

Device not recognised. Based on comparison to known Psion technologies, analysis suggests that it may be a telekinesis suppressor.

He's human, or at least close enough that I can't tell the difference. He's suspended in some sort of force field, dangling from where it grips his shoulders. Around him, there's a sort of frame, spherical in outline. The golden energy spiking off him doesn't pass beyond that limit but is drawn into it whenever it intersects. He looks starved, his skin slack and his ribs clearly visible. His eyes are.. slightly open, though he isn't looking in this direction. His face…

"Adam Blake."

"He was a powerful warrior. He covered the Tamaranean fleet's retreat when we defeated them. Unlucky for him the Psions had a few new tricks they wanted to try out." He pauses. "The old Emperor -the one before the one before Damyn- used to come down here and just.. watch him, sometimes. Damyn doesn't care."

"His power… You're running all of Citadel Complex off him?"

"Stops him from going anywhere. We've still got normal reactors, but this guy could rip battleships apart. Anyway, you see the problem. The Tamaraneans find out that he's here-."

"Are your conventional reactors still in working order?"

"Yeah, but-."

Bringing him back… Finding their grandparents' bodies was always going to be a long shot, but bringing Captain Comet back… "What would happen if he were released?"

"Ahhh… Just.. shut everything down?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. He was trying to kill us pretty hard last time he was free, and I don't know what being stuck in there for so long has done for his mind. If it was me… Tear Citadel Complex apart in an insane rage, maybe?"

Fair point. And that would make it far harder to destroy the fleet. "Bring the other reactors online and let me inside. When I give the order, slowly deactivate the device keeping him there."

"You.. sure about that..?"

I float over to the armoured door leading into the chamber where Mister Blake is imprisoned. "Yes."

"Because I don't think-."

"Brand."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:22 GMT

"Mister Blake?"

I'm standing outside of the cage, the systems around me now near-silent. The golden energy which old Earth and Tamaranean records show to be the visible effect of his telekinesis is crackling less frequently, though the apparently random spurts are still earthing themselves in the frame. The power is being diverted into capacitors, so if Emperor Damyn had any plans for his defence he better hope he has enough batteries. The device the Psions were using to encourage Mister Blake to lash out lies in pieces on the floor. In the unlikely event that I decide to study it there are backups, but at the moment I'm more concerned with the man himself.

"Mister Blake?"

I can see colours inside him. I can see the shallow rising and falling of his chest. He's alive at least. But I can't scan deeper than his skin. As far as I and the elder Citadelian know everything that would suppress my ring has been turned off, save for the frame and the suspension field. If I can't scan him then he's the one stopping me. A self-protection reflex? Sounds plausible. Ah heck, I wish I'd asked Alan more about him. How his abilities work. Yes, asking him about other superheroes he knew well seemed logical and there was no real reason to go back to a man who he didn't know all that well and who hadn't been on Earth for over fifty years. Still…

"Mister Blake? Are you with us?"

His eyes are blank, lifeless, his pupils pointing at the floor and not tracking anything I wave in his line of sight. So, choice is: leave him and join the princesses, keep trying to get his attention, or remove the cage.

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four to Princess Komand'r."

An image of her head appears above my ring. "Two thousand eight hundred and fourteen what?"

"It's the number of the Sector I come from. Since I can't say my name and since there's more than one Orange Lantern now. Power should be down now. Any trouble?"

"A few traps, clever in nature, foolish in utilisation. A few soldiers, hopelessly outmatched. We should have control of command in minutes. Will you be joining us when we kill the Emperor?"

Branding him.. might be better. I'm confident that my ring can bypass whatever security the Citadel has once I can directly access the components… "Seen any Psions?"

"Not yet. I'm looking forward to that."

"We need their knowledge, Komand'r. Don't do anything rash."

"I do know how to assimilate."

Yes, she does. And I'm sure that gaining the knowledge of a top level evil scientist won't have any negative effect on her mental state at all. Or encourage her in unfortunate directions. "I'll be with you as soon as I can. Two Eight One Four out."

I lower my ring and take an x-ionised knife out of subspace. Okay, let's… Let's assume that he wakes up. What's the thing most likely to encourage him to respond positively -or at least rationally- to my presence. His parents died before he left, his sister Edna died in nineteen sixty one… Shit, he probably doesn't know-. Wait a second. He was born in the thirties. He'd have been a teenager during the Second World War. I could use Alan's voice or a hologram-. No, he's a telepath, that wouldn't work-.

Oh, just get on with it.

I reinforce my environmental shield, add telepathy defence constructs (not enough to keep him out, but strong enough that he probably won't be able to reflexively kill me) and stab the part of the frame closest to me with the knife. Lights go out over a chunk of the frame, so hopefully it isn'turk-urk-urk!

**[Ships drifting in the void as flame flares through holes in their hulls, then goes out as the spilling atmosphere is consumed.]**

I'm slammed back against the wall of the chamber as the frame explodes in a flare of gold-white energy!

**[The first rank accelerates to a sprint as fast as their bulk allows, firing shots at any Citadelian not with us. The second rank advances behind them at a walk and the rear rank uses their power armour to leap up, firing while in the air.]**

Part of the wall melts as the suspension field generator superheats the metal around it and falls out in a pile of slag. Mister Blake grasps his own body in a white/gold aura, his eyes glowing the same colours.

**[Gold/white light around me as my ship accelerates away from Earth.]**

**[Oh shit, opening fire with everything!

"Did you dare think I was not prepared to die for my cause as well?!"]**

Crushing pressure across my body! I'm being held together by my environmental shield, but he can crush harder than I can resist! Why did he have to access that memory?!

**[A living room, Nabu's voice over the radio explaining that the aura keeping the All Star Squadron out of Europe has collapsed.]**

And you couldn't just have been fixated on Diana like every other teenaged boy? I mean, okay, her old costume was a bit frumpy-.

**["Commodore Amalak, Mister Jarko, may I make a suggestion?"

Jarko waves his left arm languidly. "By all means."]**

There were perfectly good reasons why-.

**[Two old style Tamaranean navy vessels fly through space towards the Citadelian ships protecting a convoy of slave transports. The Citadelians fire, their gravity distortion waves being stopped dead by a gold/white energy field.]**

**It's to your credit, but minimising violence and allowing a transition to a more peaceful-.**

**[A snort of agreement. "Throwing in that axe thing was a great idea. Can't stop playing with it. Like my daughter with a new doll." Another snort. "He wants me to ask if you want to make this a regular thing."]**

With an effort I force my mind to jump tracks.

**["My intention is to absolutely abolish the ownership of sentient beings in Vega, but for now…" I gesture towards a nearby building. "Please, avail yourselves of the facilities."]**

**[King Myand'r greets the returning slaves in person, embracing his daughters before moving on to the others.]**

**Mister Blake, I'm trying to free you!**

**[I nod, getting to my feet. He shifts forward to the edge of his chair and gets his feet directly under him before rising. "I'll see you.. when I.. see you, I suppose."

He nods, holding out his right hand. I step toward him and wrap my arms around his chest. "I'm sorry I couldn't do better."

He puts his arms around my back. "Just don't ever stop trying."]**

"Urff."

Mister Blake lurches slightly in the air, his eyes now directly focusing on me.

**How long?**

**You've been here for about forty years. We're about to capture the control deck and-.**

The pressure around me vanishes and the glow around him intensifies.

**Then this is forty years overdue.**

There's a flare of light, and he's gone.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:25 GMT

The liquefied remains of the ceiling, and.. a circular section of the floor above us and… Quite a few floors above that sloshes down into the containment chamber, splattering against my environmental-. I fly upwards, creating a construct cone over my head to divert as much of it out of the way as possible.

"Komand'r, Koriand'r, incoming Captain Comet!"

"You-?" I can hear the joy in Koriand'r's exclamation.

"He's here."

I shove the slag aside and accelerate, twisting around the tunnels Mister Blake ripped in Citadel Complex before emerging into… A somewhat battered techno-barbarian feasting hall. The broken and torn bodies of Citadelians and Psions litter the room, the main table tossed aside and Mister Blake hovering like a vengeful Angel over the heavy metal throne occupied by the cowering and clearly terrified Emperor Damyn.

**How does it feel!?**

White/gold light envelopes the Citadelian Emperor.

"Nonopleasedon'tnono-!"

His body contracts with a horrible snapping sound, neck pulled into his shoulders and his ribs bending inwards. Another snap and his arms and legs are flattened against the sides of his torso. Another snap and his head is.. similarly flattened, then his.. body sort of.. collapses inwards. The resulting ball of meat is.. maybe fifty centimetres in diameter. Mister Blake stares at it for a moment and then slumps in the air.

I look around at the sound of running feet and see a squad of our marines burst into the room, weapons at the ready. Mister Blake's aura flares again-.

"No! No! They work for me! They're on our side!"

His eyes narrow slightly, then two marines collapse. **Huh. You can control people's minds.**

"… Technically, I rewire their souls. Look, if you saw my memories you know-."

**I'm not exactly a precise instrument at the moment. I wasn't choosing what I saw. But I did see you killing Fate. He was a great hero-.**

"I had perfectly-. I had reasons, and I'll happily explain them in detail once we've finished off the Citadel."

**And how are you planning on doing that? It takes a lot more than killing one Emperor to destroy the Citadel. Hell, I could probably tear this whole space station apart without preventing them from reforming.**

"My plan was to.. use the Emperor to take control of the outer defences and use them against the fleet. Then drop the Citadel Complex itself onto the cloning facilities on the planet below. With no fleet, no way to make new Citadelians and no space station there wouldn't really be anything left." I look at the ball of mushed Emperor. "I'm.. not sure how we're going to do it now. I might be able to bypass the security with my ring, or perhaps the engineers stationed here might be able to rig the controls-."

**I took the information on how to operate them from the Emperor's mind. It shouldn't be too hard.** The glow from his eyes brightens for a moment, and the meat ball flies down his entry hole. A moment later there's a geyser of gore as the meat ball explosively expands. Delightful. **Now, where's-?**

His eyes clear, the aura around his body vanishes and he collapscatching! The construct stretcher appears behind him and turns, bringing him horizontal before he can hit the floor. When was the last time he ate something? I take a flask of nutritional liquid out of subspace and fly over to him. Goodness me.

"Mister Blake, your mind may be willing but your flesh is weak." I attach the flask to the construct and manoeuvre the straw to where he can reach it. "Suck on this, slowly."

**Need to…**

"You can't do anything if you're dead, and it would be stupid if you died now, when the Citadel is about to fall. I'll take us to the control centre and you can tell me-" Koriand'r flies in past the marines, Komand'r close on her heels. "-how to work them."

Koriand'r doesn't quite shove me out of the way as she comes up alongside the stretcher and starts scanning. "He is gravely weakened." She turns her head to glare at me. "Why have you not healed him?"

"Because I don't have enough information on his 'healthy' state-."

"You are the same species-!"

"He's a metahuman! Their bodies can be completely-!"

**I prefer 'mutant'. And I can heal myself perfectly well. I just need more… Raw material.** He turns his head slightly and sucks at the straw for a moment. **Let's get to the control center.**

Komand'r immediately sends her Construct Lantern down the short corridor to the control centre proper. She gives it a moment and then follows on behind him. I briefly hear the fizzing sound of plasma fire, then nothing. Koriand'r backs up as I float the stretcher and myself after them.

I hear a body collapse. "All clear."

The control centre itself is.. a near identical copy of the bridge of the Assailant. Aside from the corpses. I suppose there's no real reason for the Emperor to spend much time here himself; he can stick up a communication screen anywhere he feels like being. Komand'r is standing in the communications station, prodding at the controls in order to-.

Images of the belligerent parties appear on the screens lining the walls in front of us. A quick glance shows that the Psions have left and the Branx are keeping their distance. Fire appears to be being exchanged between… Four factions? The ones that the Citadelians manning this place thought were loyal are clearly marked, but there's nothing to indicate who the other groups are. I spot the Assailant trying to keep out of the path of the dreadnought as the latter finishes off another battleship. The dreadnought isn't marked as loyal, and I'm going to assume that the Admiral in command thought that he was first in line for the throne.

"Orange Lantern to Assailant. Damyn is dead and we've captured the command section. Get somewhere safe."

"Nicely done, master! Moving to obey!"

Komand'r looks disappointed. "We could have just killed him."

"Yes, we could." Koriand'r looks mildly mollified. "Mister Blake?"

**Exactly what defenses am I looking for?**

"Warden stations. They're a sort of light speed shotgun, designed to stop oncoming fleets. They added them to the defence network after your attack on the place."

Komand'r frowns. "Why haven't they used them already?"

"Because they don't want to totally devastate their own fleet. I imagine that the Emperor thought that killing the rival claimants would be enough to restore order. We -on the other hand- actively want to kill as much of it as we can."

Several panels glow with gold/white light. **Okay. Got it. I'm not sure exactly how to target with it.**

"Just get them pointed in roughly the right area. It's a shotgun, not a rifle."

**Okay.**

Quick check that the Assailant is… Hm, directly below the Citadel Complex and hugging the hull. Not completely safe, but Citadel Complex's shields should be able to absorb most of the incoming fire.

"Pull the trigger."

One of the interdiction fields on Tamaran is set up to teleport tiny amounts of dust into the path of any ship trying to reach the planet through conventional acceleration. Since force equals mass times acceleration, the massive acceleration of such a ship means that only tiny amounts of mass are required to create enough force to destroy the ship. The Citadel's warden stations are built around the idea of making it work the other way around: firing tiny particles at near light speeds at ships moving at comparatively low speeds. Normally, firing an imprecise weapon in space is a waste of time but these are designed to throw out so many near-light speed projectiles that they can actually work.

The Citadel ships currently exchanging fire were in a relatively narrow corridor of space, which makes it even easier. One moment they're on screen, and the next?

Gone.

Good.

I nod at the expanding vapour clouds which were once a fleet. "Koriand'r, organise the evacuation. Komand'r, turn Citadel Complex's guns on any remaining enemy ships. I've got a colony drop to arrange."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
10:07 GMT

It puts it all in perspective, really. The Citadel Complex is the largest space station in this region of space. It's a good deal larger than the comparatively modest prison station in which the Dominators are probably keeping Vril Dox the Younger. And yet, as it falls to the planet below I can barely-. Ah, there. A mushroom cloud.

Komand'r floats a little closer. "I can scarcely believe that's it."

"What were you expecting?"

She frowns introspectively. "I'm not certain. Perhaps a gruelling war lasting years and costing us dearly. I suppose the only example I have to draw on is Tamaran's last war with the Citadel."

"Sorry to disappoint."

Ring, scan. Mm. Near total devastation. A giant crater where a fortified cloning facility used to be. Where the mountain it was in used to be, come to that. Already the whole area is enshrouded in dust thrown up by the impact and-. There's a flash as one of the capacitors discharges its stored electricity into the air. It won't quite turn it into a nuclear winter down there, but anything that survived the initial impact probably doesn't have all that long to live.

"I'm sure that I'll be able to find enough to keep me occupied. There were a few Tamaranean war veterans amongst the slaves we rescued."

"Don't try to rush them into service immediately."

She doesn't bother replying, instead turning back towards the refugee flotilla. The Assailant is the largest ship, but we've pressed dozens of Citadel Complex landers into service as transport vessels. Since it's us Lanterns who'll be transporting them the fact that they can't go faster than light under their own power is pretty much irrelevant.

Most of the non-refugee population of Citadel Complex scarpered as quickly as they could after the 'we're dropping the station on the planet' alert went out. Some tried rushing the command centre, but they didn't have anything like the elite heavy power armour and as a result were rapidly reduced to a series of frozen statues. Most of the non-Citadelian population made an orderly evacuation. The Citadelian evacuation was… Less orderly. Not enough FTL capable vessels for everyone, though everyone made it out on something. There are a few smaller Citadelian ships hanging around the edge of the system with their FTL drives warm, ready to run if it looks like we're heading their way. They survived the slaughter of their larger comrades by chance, being shielded by larger vessels with fresh shields. I'll leave pickup duty to them, if they choose to carry it out. If they don't? Well, shouldn't have been such arseholes, should they?

My ring blinks.

Answer.

Koriand'r's face appears. "Everyone is prepared to depart."

I nod. "Good. Are you ready?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Good. Komand'r?"

There's a flash of orange as she transitions away. My ring picks her up next to a mile long ex-Citadelian docking cradle. We'll be coming back to loot high value materials later, but I want the most important pieces now. Visibly exerting herself, Komand'r extends an orange aura around the whole thing. And that's why I want to do this now: I could split my focus to defend myself while doing something like that but there's no way either of the princesses could yet.

Right, my turn. I transition to the other largely undamaged cradle, this one complete with a partially complete battleship. Unlike a finished ship full of its crew's desires as well as awkward shields and other devices designed to disrupt enemy action, this is an inert mass. As such, the orange light spreading from me to the entire structure is unopposed. Got a grip..? Yep, I'm not exactly agile like this, but I can carry it.

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four ready."

"Assailant ready, master."

"Koriand'r ready."

"Komand'r, read-ready."

"Set course for my marker on the outskirts of the Liot'r system." I send a location just outside Tamaran's interdiction fields. Komand'r and Koriand'r start glowing brighter and the Assailant powers its drives. "Warp in three, two, one, warp."

The journey takes a good deal longer than it would have without the extra mass. Plus, I decided to limit us to the speed of our slowest member, which in this case is Koriand'r and her refugees. Still, the stars wheel around us as the former seat of the Citadel Empire falls behind us. We should probably see about telling the Omega Men what we did. I don't know what sort of fleet resources Euphorix has, but the main reason they went into hiding was the overwhelming power of the Citadel and that clearly isn't an issue any longer. Of course, there are still the Psions and the Gordanians. While I suspect that the Branx can be persuaded to normalise their civilisation, the Gordanians will take a good deal of work to break out of their unsociable habits. And I rather imagine that the Psions are a lost cause.

"Warp ending in three, two, one."

And there's the universe again. "Orange Lantern to Hawk's Nest. Mission accomplished. Please deactivate interdiction fields so that we can come in-system."

"Hawk's Nest to Orange Lantern. We.. picked up a.. large warp displacement. Are you being pursued?"

"No. We're bringing a large flotilla of refugee ships, two space docks and a Citadelian battleship."

"You-? Ah… Please.. stand by."

"Standing by."

Komand'r's face appears almost immediately on my ring. "What is the delay?"

"The person at the communication station is only authorised to undertake a particular range of activities. Flexibility requires that they get hold of an officer with the authority to be flexible. I imagine that they'll.. rush it, for us."

"Orange Lantern, warp interdiction systems are inactive. You are authorised to approach Tamaran."

"Thank you. We'll be with you shortly. Orange Lantern out."

Komand'r warps immediately, appearing moments later at a Lagrange point in near-Tamaran space. Moving entire docks into orbit is.. something I'm going to leave for a team with tugs and a working understanding of Citadelian computers and thrusters. Next, Koriand'r warps, taking her ships towards the outskirts of Tamarus. There used to be a spaceport there during their pre-space dock era, and the huge concrete launch pad was never completely destroyed. The ships can land there, let their passengers off and then be stripped for parts.

The Assailant warps next. For obvious reasons it's not going to be too close to the planet. I've still got my brand on all of the crew, as well as a few more I picked up on Citadel Complex. I think I'll hand the ship over to Tamaran. See what Amalak can do with the disarmed crew. If he wants them. If he doesn't… I'll try and find somewhere to maroon them.

My turn. Ring, plot course to Lagrange point and execute.

Compliance.

Space distorts for a moment, then… We're here. First part, done. I correct the dock's drift, then let go of it. Ring, location of King Myand'r?

King Myand'r is flying towards the old spaceport.

Good-oh. Transition.

I appear next to him in the air, causing him to stop suddenly in surprise.

"Majesty."

He recovers quickly. "Orange Lantern. I was informed of your return. Are my daughters well?"

"Both uninjured. I'm afraid that your… Family's remains were long since disposed of." He nods sombrely. "On the other hand, we did find someone alive that we didn't expect to."

"Oh? Who?"

Komand'r and guest transition into the air just above us, Mister Blake wearing a copy of his old uniform which I fabricated for him. After a series of nutrient drinks he's capable of moving under his own power, though he said that it will be several weeks before he's anything like fighting fit. Still, he can fly by himself now, and he heads in our direction.

**Mythus. Good to see you again.**

 

[Mr Zoat]

28th July
13:02 GMT

Given the way Karras is grinning, I probably don't need to ask. But it would be polite. "So?"

He glances back to where his parents and the king and queen are making extremely stilted conversation. "The betrothal has been annulled. Koriand'r is free to marry who she chooses. Or not at all."

I nod. I was worried that the royal party might miss the celebratory ball completely, given how long discussions were taking. I was offered the chance to take part, but they seemed to accept my excuse that I regarded it as a 'purely internal matter of Tamaranean governance'. "And your parents are being reasonably reasonable about the whole thing?"

He turns his head away for a moment, his eyes falling on the elder of the royal sisters. "Komand'r.. took them to see the space docks which you acquired from the Citadel. From how they behaved afterwards, it seems that she may perhaps… Hold some lingering resentment over being passed over for political marriage herself."

I take a sip from my glass. I'll let the Tamaraneans off fermenting perfectly good fruit; the Citadel and Gordanians between them destroyed too much infrastructure for refrigeration to be common and it hasn't been a focus of their industry since I liberated them. "And your current relationship?"

He smiles faintly. "Taryia and I will both be applying to study at the Tamarus War College… Once it is constructed. While they would be unlikely to consent to my marriage to a junior officer in my own retinue, I… We hope that they will feel differently about a fleet officer."

"Reasonable idea."

"Though… If you should happen to have.. any.. further power rings…"

I bow my head slightly. "Karras, my next stop is to liberate the man I want to run the Orange Lantern Corps from a heavily fortified prison."

"Then surely it would be wise for you to take as many Lanterns with you as you can?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to undermine their future position by establishing a recruitment pattern they may not like. Besides…" I take a look inside him. "Why do you want to become a Lantern?"

"Well, I-. I could do more for Tamaran as a Lantern than as a fleet officer." I raise my eyebrows slightly. "And… As I said, I want to marry Taryia, and… Becoming a Lantern would most likely grant me the prestige that I would need in order to make that happen."

"If you could see your soul right now." He face stills, his eyes widening slightly. "Karras, not only are you not avaricious enough to make a powerful Orange Lantern, the violet light of love is too strong in you for you to be a reliable one."

"I… Would have to give up-?"

"No, that wouldn't work either. Orange Lanterns have to pursue things they genuinely want, not refuse them. Karras, not being appropriate for an orange ring doesn't mean that you have failed some sort of test."

"It feels as if it does. I would not give up Taryia for anything, but I cannot fuel a power ring with love."

Oh. "That's not a bad idea."

"I… Can.. fuel a power ring with love?"

"Not yet, but give me a while to work on the Zamarons and we'll see what we can do." If they haven't moved on to using power rings yet… Maybe we could come to terms?

"I will. Thank-"

"Karras!"

"-you." He looks around as his father waves for him to come over to them. "Excuse me."

"By all means."

I take a step back, looking around at the other guests. Officers and service personnel from the old Tamaranean fleet, accompanied by their families. A few we rescued, both yesterday and from Hny'xx. They look stunned, unable to believe that they're actually back here. A few more who were fortunate enough to survive and live out the intervening period of time on Tamaran. Occasionally I see them glance at their comrades, some with joy. Others with guilt. There have been more than a few joyful reunions since they returned, though I've been too busy to really appreciate it.

I know that King Myand'r wants as many of the old officers as possible to return to active duty, or at least take part in training the next generation. They're going to be working from scratch, after all. Heck, they don't even have a ship design yet, let alone any ships. They're actually letting the Thanagarians get first crack at the empty docking cradle because it's going to be so long until they might be able to make use of it that it makes more sense to let them work on their ship first. It's not an unreasonable demonstration of pride, not wanting to be completely beholden to the Thanagarians for training, but… There have been decades and quite a lot of beatings between now and when many of them were last in service.

Also, there's the fact that they lost…

"Another success." Komand'r strolls out of the shadowy portico behind me. "The Citadel almost totally destroyed. No other power in a position to fill the void they leave behind. Do you really intend to just… Leave?"

"Actually, no." I turn to face her. "I need to ask a favour."

She smiles. "That's a little more familiar. What do you want?"

"In a few days I'm going to attack a Dominator prison. There's a man inside who could be extremely useful to me."

"And you want my help?"

"Not exactly. I would like you to look after another Lantern's Sector while he helps me. He has.. unique skills that will make the break in far easier than it would otherwise be, but he needs someone to do his normal job while he's away."

"Leave.. Vega? Now?" She frowns. "So soon after such a great triumph?"

"You could stay to work on the industrialisation program with your ring. They aren't just weapons, you know. But… I think that… It might be advantageous for you to see a little more of the universe. See a peaceful region of space; see how it works. And learn how interstellar policing by Lantern usually works."

"Do you plan to assign me to somewhere, then?"

I shake my head. "Of course not. Merely to broaden your horizons. And… At least a couple of the worlds in that area of space have advanced medical technology."

There's a momentary spike of irritation. "Do you mean to tell me that you know how to cure my condition?"

I shake my head. "I probably know less about Tamaranean physiology than you do. But Tamaran isn't going to be prioritising recovering advanced medical technology. And I imagine that you want to cure you more than I do."

"Hm." She considers for a moment. "How soon?"

"A few days. I imagine it would be profitable for us to keep making salvage runs for a little while, and I doubt that my target is going anywhere."

"Then I will agree to aid you."

"Thank you."

She eyes me a little curiously. "How many Citadelians do you think that we killed?"

"I'm not sure. Assuming that the ships we destroyed had full crew and marine complements, and that the cloning facility was fully staffed… Somewhere between four hundred thousand and a million? Probably towards the lower end, but I doubt that we'll ever know for certain. Do you need to know?"

"It surprises me, how casual you are about it. I had thought you… Softer."

I shrug. "The ends and the means are one and the same. It's not as if I could destroy the Citadel without killing a lot of Citadelians."

"Then why did you let so many Citadelians flee? The other species I would understand, but if you had resolved to kill so many, why stop?"

"Simple enough. What do you suppose that they'll do now?"

"Try to convince their vassals that they are still strong. Then most likely turn to piracy when they fail."

"And what will you do about that?"

"Destroy them."

"And how will their victims respond to you doing that?"

She frowns. "I imagine that they'll be gratef-." Her eyes widen.

"I intend to have you and your sister act as Sector Lanterns for the Vega Systems, normalising relations between its inhabited planets. And that will be much easier if everyone regards you highly, don't you think?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Headhunted

14th August
20:24 GMT

Water vapour has long since stopped rising from Doctor Natu's drink, and given how her cup is tilting in her hands the only reason that it isn't spilling is that she'd already gotten most of the way through. From the expression on her face I think that she's torn between disbelief and horror.

"You.. destroyed a pirate base and killed everyone in it."

Obviously, the version of events I've told her is somewhat edited. No mention of a power ring, and the fighting was conducted with equipment I provided by soldiers I hired rather than mind controlled. And I've rather played down the numbers involved.

I nod. "Clone, no change. No picture. No song. No dance. Always fight. No care hurt. Could destroy. Did."

She shakes her head as if to rouse herself, putting her mug down and making a grasping motion with her right hand. "Okay, I can… In theory, I could see how a group of clones might be so similar to each other that there wasn't any deviation in their behaviour. Particularly if their total population was so small. And if the First was just using them as raiders and they used slaves for all of their non-combat roles… All the slaves were definitely evacuated?"

"Yes. Checked."

"What about the ones on the planet?"

"Slave no trust." And I checked that too. A large garrison, some Psion technical people and no slaves to throw a wrench in the Citadel Empire's greatest point of vulnerability. "No work."

"Alright. I know.. pirates kill a lot of people, so… I suppose that what you did is as near to lawful as places like that get. But if some of their fleet that survived… When they were in control, you said that they mostly took the money and left the settlements they dominated to their own devices. Wouldn't they just go on the offensive? Find somewhere new to set up shop and go back to their old ways?"

I nod. It's true, of course. Even with Komand'r having free rein to kill any ships that misbehaved, the surviving Citadel Empire fleet elements were bound to try occupying and raiding to shore up their position. Removing them was the only way to start moving Vega towards being a healthy region of space, but a lot of people will die before we get there. How to put that in a context that doesn't alienate her?

"Tripartite War. Eight million die?"

"It's…" She looks down at her mug, stirring the dregs with a small stick. "It's hard to judge. It depends on exactly when you consider the war to start, and what deaths you consider to have been caused by the war specifically. In reality, the figure should probably be higher."

"Eight official figure?"

"Our.. government.. sometimes likes to play down how bad things were before…"

"Sinestro."

People on three neighbouring tables glance around when they hear me mention his name, tiny flickers of fear in each of them. Not exactly associated with the man himself; he's been gone long enough that they're pretty confident that he's not coming back. The fear is more from the idea of being associated with him, with the potential for social sanction and police action. I wonder if he knows exactly how much fear his memory and name evoke here? I don't know if he's been back since picking up his yellow ring.

Doctor Natu looks around, smiling nervously at the other tables in what I imagine is an attempt to convince them to ignore the ignorant alien. After they return to their own conversations she looks back up at me. "Yes."

"He not rule? More die?"

"That depends on whose version you believe. Probably, yes. In the longer term, with all of the purges..? I don't know. I like to think no one would have actually launched neutron bombs, but…"

"After.. him?"

"The purges were stopped, people were let out of prison. There was violence afterwards, but things.. stabilised pretty quickly."

"Better he not rule?"

"It's impossible to know for certain. I.. don't think it would have been."

"Better he not go?"

"No." She shakes her head vehemently. "Children shouldn't be sent to prison for littering."

"Bad thing go. Situation not perfect."

She nods. "The war was worse, and I can't really think of any other way it could have been stopped. So, what? You're saying that what your mercenaries did was the only way to stop the Citadel?"

"Before left, told mercenary contact. Work opportunity."

"What's the commission on something like that?"

"Not much." Just making Amalak aware that there may be jobs available really isn't something he pays on. He only does commission if you handle the contract negotiation as well to make sure that there are definite offers of employment. Rashashoon at least isn't going to have to worry much unless there's a concerted attack of a sort I doubt that the surviving Citadelian ships are capable of mounting. The Branx can take care of themselves, as can the Okaarans. And fuck the Psions. "Not job."

"You did all that and it wasn't even what you were hired to do. What did your employers think about that?"

"Not care."

She sits back slightly, putting down her stirring stick. "They don't care about all the people who died, because it was a long way away and they got the new hires they wanted." She frowns. "Wait, you haven't said what happened when you attacked the prison yet. You killed hundreds of people and you didn't even get the man you were looking for. I don't know what to think; I've never met anyone who's killed that many people."

"Tripartite War commanders?"

She shakes her head. "I don't move in those sorts of circles. And I doubt they were quite as.. directly involved as you were. Does this sort of thing happen to you a great deal?"

"No. Perhaps future."

Actually, I rather hope not. I'm heading back to Earth soon -all being well- and if something like that happened on Earth… Alright, Klarion's total death toll might well have been greater… I mean, caused by me. Earth's home, I don't want to be in a position where killing that many people is the right thing to do.

"How did the people you hired to help you react when they found out that you weren't working for the chief you told them you were?"

For a moment I hear clearly the wailing sound they made when I removed the brands.

"Not happy. Very not happy."

"I can't imagine…" She shakes her head. "Did the security specialist you were trying to hire agree to work with you after all of that?"

"Yes. Not tell all."

"And if you're here then I assume that the attack on the prison went well?"

"Complicated. First, need example Dominator technology…"

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th July
10:57 GMT

Amalak looks down from the battlements at the disembarking Citadelians with a wry smile. "I hadn't realised that you did deliveries."

I'm leaving the battleship with the Tamaraneans, but since the crew complement is still branded they didn't complain about getting into glorified shipping containers for the journey here. I raised the topic, but leaving them on Tamaran was a non-starter. Myand'r wasn't happy about Citadelians being on his planet at all, Koriand'r wasn't happy about them remaining branded and Komand'r wasn't clear why she couldn't assimilate them all.

Miss Gozzi presses a couple of buttons on her holographic computer interface. "You do understand that the most likely result of this is that we have to kill every single one."

Amalak chuckles. "Why do you think I'm having robots act as escorts rather than living soldiers?"

Komand'r smiles. "Ruthless. You're prepared to gun down every single one."

"Naturally. Not that I want to. That would simply be wasteful. Still, there's a reasonable likelihood that I will need to, so: I prepare."

Koriand'r grimaces. "And you have mechanical soldiers rather than living ones because you think that they would not have the stomach for it."

He tilts his head left and then right. "There are units that wwwould. It's really more that I don't want them to get into the habit of it. Batch killing is something one should only do after careful consideration, not on a whim or because one has convinced oneself that it is standard operating procedure."

The last member of our party is Grad the Construct Lantern, who stands impassively behind his new mistress. Amalak looks back at him with a cocked eyebrow. "A fascinating demonstration of degrees of mind control. Tell me Orange Lantern, are all of your Corps as capable as you, or are you an outlier?"

"To the best of my knowledge, I am the most accomplished Orange Lantern presently active."

Komand'r glances my way, not turning her head away from the spectacle in front of us. "You said yourself that you have a more sophisticated ring than either my sister or myself."

Amalak raises his eyebrows at that. "I wasn't aware that they came in different models. Though I suppose that it makes sense." He turns in my direction. "Tell me; what would I have to do to get a Lantern on my staff?"

"Not asking for a ring for yourself?"

"If that's an option. But from what you've told me, you seem to be rather picky about who joins you."

I return my attention to the landing ground. "Commodore, we have a good working relationship. But let's not get ahead of ourselves."

He shrugs it off. "As you wish."

The last Citadelians out of the hatches turn and close them. They are unarmed and unarmoured, because if this goes badly I don't want them making a fight of it. They disarmed themselves at my request on the pretext that they're going to be getting a span of shore leave. True enough, if they agree to work with Amalak. Otherwise… Robot guns.

I glance left at where Komand'r's eyes are glowing.

Assuming that she doesn't get them all.

Amalak nods to Miss Gozzi, who moves a dial on her controls. The guns in the landing area go live but don't quite point at the recruits. Amalak looks it over and then nods at me. "Whenever you're ready."

I step forwards and flare my environmental shield to get their attention. "Soldiers, formerly of the Citadel!"

"Rahgh!"

The roar from eight hundred throats, the bang as they slam their right fists into their chests in salute. They still think of what we achieved as their victory as well.

"With the Citadel Complex destroyed, this campaign is concluded. After this, those of you who wish to will be working for Commodore Amalak as mercenaries. It is my desire that you accept this offer. Those of you who do not wish to do so will be released on your own recognisance until such time as I need you again. Choose wisely."

I raise my hands and pull the orange light away from them. The brands on their chests just visible though their casual clothing flake off, decaying to orange vapour and flowing towards me. It collects in my hands, then I see it as it flows under my skin towards my ring.

That's a little disturb-.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..!"

A Citadelian towards the front has collapsed to his knees, his arms hugging his chest and a keening wail coming from his mouth. He doesn't use words, he just gives vent to his misery and horror at what I had him do. I look a little closer. Citadelians aren't loyal to the Emperor but they are loyal to the Citadel Empire. It was the bedrock of their existence and I destroyed it. With that certainty gone he… No, they all, feel completely desolate. Some instinctively reach for weapons they're not carrying, others bow their heads and start hyperventilating.

Amalak regards the scene levelly. "They seem to be taking the news about as well as could be expected."

Komand'r smiles broadly. "Tonight, before I sleep, I will play a recording of this moment. And I will sleep all the more soundly for it."

Koriand'r dips her eyes. "It would have been kinder to kill them."

I don't think that the moaning is even intentional. I hope that their minds aren't literally locking up. That would-.

"You!" Captain Gralg shoves his way through the unresisting crowd. "You made us destroy the-!" His mouth locks up and the rest of his face spasms and shakes. "Everything! Everything! You told us to do it and-!" He's crying, his hands going to his face and pulling, leaving thin cuts where his nails dig into his skin. "And we.. just..!"

I take a moment to search out the older Citadelian who was in charge of power generation. He's near the back and he appears to be keeping himself together a little better than the rest. Though that could simply be as a result of not being involved until right at the end. For a moment he makes eye contact with me, then takes in the guns around them. Then he turns away and shoves his way through the crowd to get into cover.

"Yes, you did. And yes, I did. And let's not pretend that the Citadel Empire hadn't done the same thing to anyone who got on its bad side. Do not expect me to feel even the slightest bit sorry." Komand'r nods approvingly. "But you still have the choice. Any of you who enter Amalak's service will be given work and shelter. Any of you who want revenge? I'm right here."

There's a moment where the Citadelians take a moment to look at their neighbours, perhaps trying to gauge their mood. One or two fall to the ground. Then the rest-

"RAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!"

-charge towards the tower.

Amalak blows air out through his lips. "Well, we got a few." The robot turrets go live, orientate themselves on the charging horde and open fire. "And their equipment. Definitely a profitable day." Bolts of plasma strike the Citadelian mob, and unlike when they wore armour every hit is fatal. Chunks of meat vaporise, the flesh heating up so fast that it seems to explode, sending their corpses slamming into their comrades.

None of them take a blind bit of notice in their headlong rush.

Right into the tower's force field.

I keep watching as the robot guns shoot them in the backs, whittling the eight hundred down swiftly and steadily. Every hit is almost immediately fatal and no amount of punching is going to do damage worth talking about to the force field blocking their onslaught.

It takes a little over a minute for the last of them to die, then another set of robots moves in to remove the bodies.

Of the whole lot who worked for me during the assault on the Citadel Complex only eleven remain.

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th July
08:14 GMT -6

Jean falls back as I walk into the command suite. Doctor Robbins is sitting at the main monitor station, her chin resting on her right hand and a large mug of coffee held in her left. Trying to be at least a little subtle about it, I take a quick look around to see if I can spot-.

"There aren't any."

I guess that subtle is for people who aren't two meters tall.

I cross the room, walking steadily around to the front of her station so that she can look at me without turning away from whatever it is that she's working on. "Jean said that you wanted to see me."

"What, you not going to scan me as well?"

I turn my head to look her in the eyes. She doesn't look angry, exactly. The accusation has little bite to it. "I'm concerned. I feel a little odd about saying this, but if you-?"

"I'm over it. Liquor isn't a long term solution."

I smile. "I'm glad to hear it. I understand that having an enemy attack you in your home-."

"That's not exactly a first for me."

I hold up my hands in a pacifying motion. "I mean no disrespect to the Challengers, but Darkseid is rather in a league of his own." I take a look around for somewhere to sit down, but there isn't anything. This is the most Challengery room left in the place. I've barely come in here since we renovated. "And then there's the fact that there's not a lot we could do if he decided to do it again-."

"That's not it." She lifts her head off her hand and takes a mouthful of coffee. I decide to let her get whatever it is off her chest at her own speed. She swallows, then sighs. "With the Challengers… Looking back, I guess it looks like we thought we couldn't die or something. That wasn't really it. Even before Red died we all knew every mission could be our last. Heck… That was kinda why we did it. For the thrill."

I nod. Not.. one of my motivations. For me it's about doing something I want to do, the easier the better. But her point of view isn't exactly uncommon. I seem to remember that there was a Star Trek Voyager episode in which the Doctor commented that the Marquis members of the crew tended to exhibit a greater preference for risk taking behaviour than their more staid Federation comrades. I wonder if it's the same for superheroes?

"And ever since you saved me from being the first Challenger to die in her bed, I've pretty much just been sitting around the Mountain and getting in the way."

"Doctor Robbins, your experience makes you a valuable member-."

"I'm a babysitter." She glances at a monitor to her right, showing.. Chester's current location. "And I'm not just talking about Lynne and those Bat kid things. A college sci-fi nerd could do my job. And like it better."

I nod. I suppose -given how much of an adrenaline junkie she was- expecting her to be happy doing this indefinitely was a poor judgement on my part. "If you'd like some time off-."

"I'm quitting." She stares at me as if daring me to protest. "Talbot can wrangle the Blacks and Jean can do the rest of this job just fine."

Ring.

By your command.

"I've transferred the next five years' rent to your account. I'm afraid I'll have to remove your access to our systems once you leave, but if you need anything just let me know." She looks momentarily nonplussed as I take a couple of steps closer. "I really appreciate you staying on as long as you have, and letting us set up in your old home. Thank you." I hold out my right hand to her, sticking it through the centre screen. "Send us a postcard when you get to wherever you're going."

"Huh." She stands, and clasps my right hand with hers. "I will. I thought you'd make a bigger deal out of this."

I shrug. "I'm not really the 'chaining to the desk' sort. You've clearly given it some thought and.. made up your mind. It's your life. Live it as you see fit." I reclaim my hand and make a vague gesture with it. "Let me know when you leave, I'll come and see you off."

She studies my face for a moment longer, then picks up her coffee, turns and leaves.

Hm.

A few.. possible replacements come to mind. I'm not sure that the tentative understanding Nyssa Raatko and I have would really bear giving her the job, but I finally managed to track down Scandal Savage -the name was a bust but her weapon is distinctive- a few weeks ago and I think it would be right up her alley. Probably need to talk to her about her father's businesses anyway. She's technically his beneficiary, but since he ran them from the shadows and only intended her to ever take charge for short periods of time there's no real rush. Despite believing himself immortal he always ran the risk of dying off-planet or inside a large carnivore and he appears to have considered her an acceptable temporary executor.

Still, no rush.

Jean enters the room with a politely deferential air about her. "Sir?"

"Doctor Robbins will be leaving us shortly. If you have any plans to go haring off to South America in search of your primogenitor, I would appreciate you putting them on hold."

"We have decided that there is little reason to hurry. Given the likely date of our forebear's arrival, anything that remains will likely remain for some time yet. Would you like me to assign a G-Troll to take Doctor Robbins' place?"

I nod half-heartedly as I walk past her. "Do as you think best." The system can back up anything the Blacks discover pretty much automatically and they can always contact me directly in the event of an emergency. I.. suppose.. compared to most of the people working for me now I was underemploying her. Maybe I should have.. put her in charge of the extinct species resurrection program..? No, that wouldn't have been any more her thing than watching other people do what she used to do.

I'm going to miss her being around.

"So." Michael Tawny walks down the corridor towards me. Still not entirely used to him looking like that. "I understand that the good Doctor will be leaving us."

I nod. "Indeed. Actually, Michael-."

"I don't have any plans to follow her, if that's what you're about to ask."

I smile. "I'm glad to hear it. But… I'm aware that I haven't been fully utilising your abilities. I'd hate for you to become discontent."

He rotates his head slightly to the right, then gives it a wiggle. "I'll let you know. But at the present time, I feel perfectly happy acting as Lynne's bodyguard. I rather like the children at the school."

I nod, then lean forwards and lightly nuzzle him. He exhales sharply though his nose, then returns the gesture. Adult male Tigers aren't usually social with one another, and I'm rather glad that Michael feels differently.

He pulls back slightly, sniffing me. "But what about you? You said that you were nearly back to full fitness..?"

"As full as I can get with the Anti-Life fragment inside me. But-" I nod. "-yes."

"So? Who's your next target? Will you focus your energies on the British government? Some other criminal group? I've never eaten a Kobra."

"Nnnnno." I raise my left hand slightly, examining the orange ring. "I.. think it's about time that I resolved matters with Larfleeze and the Orange Central Power Battery. An army of Lanterns very nearly managed to kill Father with no other assistance-"

"Ping.!"

"-and… Even if he has become more powerful since then, that would seem to be a very useful leg up."

"Didn't you once tell me that orange rings can drive people mad?"

"Which would necessitate a trip to Maltus-"

"Or Qward."

"-to-. No, I'm not going to Qward. Our Qward probably isn't even your Qward. A Controller would be far less of a risk."

"The Controllers would insist on controlling-."

"They can insist all they want. Larfleeze's cave has hundreds of rings, and Vega has plenty of Green Lantern-free room to expand. I need exactly one Controller to assist me running things. The rest can go hang." I exhale. "But before I go and do that, I really do need to get back in touch with my friends on the team."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
10:57 GMT

Lantern Medphyll looks… I think that's 'dubiously', at Komand'r. She in turn stares imperiously back, while Koriand'r is having trouble not staring at our surroundings in wonderment.

"Lantern Komand'r, how long have you worn that ring?"

"Eleven days."

He blinks. "Orange-. Lantern Paul, there are Green Lantern recruits who do not even begin their training within that time span. Raw recruits cannot safely stand in for me for any length of time."

"I have been trained by the Warlords of Okaara since I was eight years old. I am perfectly capable-!"

"Lantern Komand'r." She cuts herself off. "Lantern Medphyll, you won't be away for a significant period of time. They will literally be here to guard against outright invasion only. And while I agree that they will need a much broader range of skills before they can serve as true Sector Lanterns, the attack on Citadel Complex demonstrated that they are both capable of fighting warships and infantry. If they encounter a matter which requires investigative or diplomatic skills beyond what they possess, they can send a message to me and I can pass it on to you."

"And if I were to die?"

"Then I will remain here in your stead until your partner has completed their training program."

"Your files on my Sector are most likely over a year out of date. And while this act of sophistry may escape the Guardians' notice, I cannot pass Green Lantern Corps files to you."

Hm. "I would only need your files if you died, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Green Lantern Corps regulations allow Lanterns to make a physical backup of data on ongoing investigations, so that local law enforcement can find out what happened without having to wait for another Lantern to arrive. You'd be breaking the rules if I actually did access it, but since you'd be dead that wouldn't really be a problem. Just show me how to access a similar data medium and we're fine."

"I… Am.. still not happy about this."

"And the Dominators' prisoners aren't happy about being vivisected. There's a lot of unhappiness going around."

"If the Guardians asked me, I would know full well that the rule in question had simply not been updated to take your existence into account."

"Lantern Medphyll, the way the rule is worded you could hand your Sector over to an Anti-Green Lantern so long as they were 'in good standing'. Lantern Jordan destroyed the Anti-Green Lantern Central Power Battery seven years ago. At this point, if the Guardians still haven't updated the rules… It's kind of their fault."

"I doubt that the Guardians would see it-."

Komand'r loses patience. "If you are so concerned about our abilities, why not test us yourself."

"Because such a test would most likely leave us both injured and unable to fulfil our responsibilities. To say nothing of the damage that our surroundings would suffer."

"Then what? What would satisfy you?"

Medphyll's fronds wiggle as he tries to come up with an answer. "I… Don't know. I think… That I may have started to petrify. Your reasoning is sound and yet am I reluctant to bend with the wind. I had been… Considering retirement."

"Why? Medphyll, the strongest Lantern I ever met was Larfleeze. He lived billions of years and all he had to show for it was a cave. Not every Lantern can be the greatest fighter, but your comportment has been an inspiration to me. You are the best example I know of how a Lantern should behave. And ultimately, if you don't think that assisting me is the correct thing to do, I have every confidence that you'll make that decision for the right reasons. I'll… Just have to find someone else."

He closes his eye for a moment, and.. something..? A ripple passes through the nearby plant life as his environmental shield shimmers. "I have become too comfortable in my certainties. I would suggest a compromise."

"Okay?"

"You want me to manipulate the Dominators' plant-based computer systems. While I could try learning to do so from the general vicinity of the prison itself, it would be far more sensible for me to learn from existing examples before we make our attack."

I nod. "True."

"Find me alien plant technology to study. While you search, I will take your Orange Lanterns on a tour of my Sector. That will give me time to learn how they think, and give them a chance to allay my fears."

Dominion space on my own. Hooray. "That sounds reasonable to me. Princess? Princess?"

Komand'r restrains herself from making the comment that I'm sure she would like to. "Agreed."

Koriand'r smiles. "I would be delighted to study peacekeeping under a veteran Green Lantern."

"Then it sounds like we've come to terms. What exactly do you need me to get?"

"Ideally, a direct copy of the system that you want me to alter. Failing that, almost any example of alien plant computers would help. I have seldom had cause to leave my Sector to travel anywhere but Oa, and as such I have had little contact with alien approaches to plant technology."

Okay… There are people who have fought the Dominators before. They'll probably have… Some stuff I can negotiate for. "Very well. I'll let you know when I have something."

"May O watch over you."

I rise up through the tree-streets, half an eye on Medphyll as he generates a construct globe and begins his lesson. Okay. Let's start with something simple. Ring, alien species who use plant technology.

Planets on record as using plant-based technology: Floria, J, Alstair, Simballi and Earth. List of further planets which use plant technology in very limited ways or use life forms similar to but distinct from conventional definition of 'plant', available.

Alstair. Where Queen Hyathis reigns. That sounds like a sensible place to start. Set course for Tamaran. I need to speak to Commander Andar.

Compliance.

And tell me about the place.

Alstair is one of four inhabited planets in the Antares binary system. It orbits Antares B and has a year of approximately four hundred days. The primary sentient inhabitants are Zaredians, and the only significant minority are Thanagarians. Other species are resident only as prisoners of war. Alstair is thaumically active, with plant-related magic use being common amongst its inhabitants. Its ruler is Queen Hyathis, who operates a near-absolute monarchy.

Are they at war?

Alstair is presently at war with its neighbours Dhor, Mosteel and Llarr, as well as Thanagar.

Dhor, I've heard of. That's where Kanjar Ro comes from.

It is likely that had his attempt to abduct the Justice League been successful he would have used them to defeat the other worlds. None have had peaceful relations with one another in recorded history, hostilities beginning at the time of first contact.

Alright, warp. Fill me in on their social structure as we go.

Compliance.

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
11:34 GMT

Commander Andar looks up from his lectern-mounted computer with a smile as his equerry shows me into his office. "Orange Lantern. Or should I say, Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four?"

"It's a bit of a mouthful."

Perhaps due to how their wings would get in the way, Thanagarians aren't all that big on chairs. I remember that Mister Hol's laboratory on the Watchtower was largely designed at a convenient height for someone standing. Commander Andar's office has a small cluster of what are clearly Tamaranean seats (the clue is the higher backs) but Thanagarian meetings are generally conducted standing, the participants looking one another directly in the face. It's not quite the aggressive gesture it is for Humans, but it's still mildly confrontational.

"Properly speaking, the correct way to address a Lantern is formally, using Lantern as their title or name-prefix."

He frowns. "Do you have some superstition about giving people your name?"

"My world is thaumically active. It isn't a superstition if they actually can curse you if they have your true name." I shake my head. "But no. I have -by mechanisms which defy my analysis- been rendered incapable of saying my own name."

His eyes narrow slightly, unsure whether I'm making some sort of incomprehensible alien joke. I take a name card out of subspace and-. He won't understand English. Ah, ring, best fit that word I can't think too loudly to Plekesh grammatical rules, then rewrite.

Compliance.

He takes a moment to read it. "Lantern Pol?"

"Close enough. It's my personal name, but the closest I've been able to get to my surname is 'candle dipper'. And I'm.. not prepared to take that step yet."

He hesitates again, but appears to decide to just go with it. "What can I do for you?"

"Having any trouble with the new equipment?"

"No, not at all. The industrial asteroid smelters should enable us to finish getting the Hawk's Nest up to specification in a few weeks. Upgrades to the battleship Assailant will take a few weeks longer, even with a space dock specifically designed for it. The second ship will take over a local year to complete, assuming the Tamaraneans don't want us to scrap it for one of their own design. The next bottleneck will be the lack of trained personnel, and I doubt that there's much you can do to help with that."

Since they don't have to pay a tithe to the Gordanians any longer Tamaran can well afford the Thanagarians' presence. But they probably couldn't afford to pay a significant number of skilled alien workers, and by the time that situation changes enough of their own people should have completed training that they won't need them. I could hire people myself, but the aim of the exercise is an independent Tamaran, not a dependent one. I'm certainly not willing to assimilate or brand people because it would be useful. And… They're not likely to get hard pressed anytime soon…

"King Myand'r told me what happened with the Citadelians you had working for you." I nod. "I know it's not easy, killing people you fought beside. But unless you were prepared to maintain control of their minds permanently it's probably the best result you could have got. Do you know how many survived?"

"Eleven."

"Citadelians being what they are, it was probably inevitable."

"I.. appreciate you saying that." I suppose that it shouldn't have surprised me. I had thought that a few of the augmented ones at least might have the sense… But I can't say it particularly bothers me. If they can't overcome their programming then there wasn't anything between them and the half-million or so we killed destroying the fleet. "But the reason I'm here, is that I'm heading to Alstair next and I'm sort of hoping that you could write me a letter of introduction, or… Whatever the normal diplomatic practice on Alstair is. I've already offered to take any messages you have to relay, but if you've got anything that can't go via Thanagar I can take that as well."

"Why are you going to Alstair?"

"A Green Lantern I'm working with wants to look at some examples of alien plant-based technology. We don't.. use that sort of thing much on Earth, and since I already know people from Alstair it seemed like the sensible option."

"What exactly is this Green Lantern planning on doing with it?"

"He has a natural ability to manipulate plant life, and we want to make sure it works on advanced alien plantforms before we go after the Dominators."

"Does he do that with his power ring or by magic?"

"I think his ring helps, but it's mostly by magic." Commander Andar relaxes slightly. "Why?"

"The last Green Lantern to intervene in Antares system gave up after being fired upon by all four navies. For a moment I was concerned that they were planning a more forceful intervention. That, and the fact that Alstair's native population use similar techniques themselves. I doubt that he'll learn to do anything that they can't defend themselves against."

Worth knowing. Maybe someone there will want to compare notes? "Heck, after Kanjar Ro went after the Justice League, it wouldn't be Alstair I'd be helping them go after. Not that I'm planning any sort of intervention unless there's a really good opportunity."

"I think that would be for the best. With Kanjar Ro deposed, the war died back a little. I'd prefer it not to pick up again."

I nod. "How exactly did Queen Hyathis come into contact with Thanagar? I've only read the Green Lantern Corps' summary on the subject."

"I'm afraid that with all of the data purges carried out by the Lord High Equaliser there's little I can tell you about his arrival. Even today, all we really know about him is that he was a male Polaran. We don't even know his name, though since his remains showed the same signs of infection as the Thanagarian population it's possible that he didn't know himself."

"And the Lizarkons?"

"They were infected too. And since you're about to ask, I am aware of the flaws which Thanagarian society has developed since then. My forebears left with Hyathis. The.. apartheid happened after that."

"I wouldn't blame a single individual for the wrongs of their entire civilisation anyway."

He nods. "Before the Equalisation Plague, we were a technologically sophisticated and.. somewhat isolationist civilisation. During it, we were… Meat robots, doing whatever we were told. The Lord High Equaliser was in complete control of everything, no one could even think differently from anyone else. And whatever his priorities were, they didn't include… Childcare, education, leisure pursuits or anything beyond utilitarian efficiency. Ships from Alstair regularly explore space, looking for technology to purchase or allies who might be persuaded to aid them against their enemies. When they found Thanagar, they reported the state of affairs to Queen Hyathis who decided to visit in person. She led the strike force which killed the Lord High Equaliser, then offered to cure the plague. In return, the Lord High Equaliser's immediate subordinates agreed to recognise her as Empress."

"Before she cured them?"

"No, she cured them first as a demonstration." He shuffles his wings slightly. "Anyway, that was where the Loyalists like me and the Nationalists like those who rule Thanagar today disagree. They say that she extorted an oath of fidelity under duress from people who didn't have the power to give on behalf of the rest of our civilisation. I say, she killed a tyrant and cured our civilisation of a disease that stripped us of our personhood. And she never treated us in a way that was dishonourable; we were equal before the law to the citizens of her homeworld."

"How did she get deposed?"

"People were getting used to individuality again. Most of them remembered a time before the Plague, but it made everything so confused that it was hard to adapt. Having been attacked by an alien and then expected to follow the orders of another… There were a lot of people who didn't like it." I nod. Stupid, but people are people wherever you go. "So, six years later when Queen Hyathis took a fleet filled full of her most loyal officers and soldiers back to the Antares system... They carried out a coup. Every Zaredian left on Thanagar was brutally murdered and the remaining fleet and planetary defence network was seized by the Nationalists. The government that came to power then is effectively the same one that rules now."

"And Thanagar's tendency towards expansionism?"

"Their slogan is 'Never Again'. I don't know what the Queen would do next if she actually managed to conquer Antares, but that's a four way fight between evenly matched factions. There isn't anywhere near Thanagar that's actually a threat to them, so the level of aggression they're showing is completely unwarranted. My greatest worry is that they're going to go after Antares eventually."

"Or Earth."

He nods, then turns away. "I'll draft you that official introduction."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
18:16 GMT

That's a big star.

I know that Antares Scorpii is a supergiant star, but stars in general are so big that the idea of a slightly bigger version doesn't really mean much to the Human brain. Even hanging here in space looking at it, it's a glowing blob a long way away. Even having the ring tell me that it has a radius 883 times that of Sol and that if it were in Sol's place its outer surface would be past Mars didn't have much impact until I got curious and generated a construct model.

It's really big.

Heck, Antares B isn't small. It has 10 times the mass of Sol, as opposed to 18 times the mass as Antares Scorpii has.

As a result of having two stars and a.. really quite pretty band of particles linking the two and reflecting their light, the worlds of the Antares system don't get much in the way of night. Alstair orbits a very long way away from either star, and as a result has a range of temperature that a Human -or a Thanagarian- would find comfortable. Llarr is further in and noticeably warmer, a fact that its cold blooded inhabitants have evolved to take full advantage of.

Incoming communication.

Answer.

"This is the Dhor Stellar Armada. Identify yourself."

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four. From Earth."

"One.. moment."

I think someone remembers what happened last time they met a Human. I wonder if Kanjar Ro managed to cling to power after getting his arse handed to him by Kal-El?

"This region is under dispute. Please conclude your business quickly. Dhor Stellar Armada out."

Hm.

The two inner worlds are stranger. The population of Dhor live almost entirely underground, their world's core cold and still while its surface is bathed in solar radiation. In the case of Mosteel its the people who are the oddity; their whole physiology designed to be able to operate at extreme temperatures and their silvery skin reflecting as much incoming energy as it can manage. It was their attempt to settle the surface of Dhor that persuaded the Dhorians to take an interest in things going on outside their settlements.

Unfortunately, they didn't much like it.

Incoming communication.

This is going to happen a lot, isn't it?

Challenging visitors to disputed regions is-.

Yes yes. Answer.

"Mosteel Command. Identify."

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four."

"Purpose of visit."

"I'm visiting Alstair to-."

"Kill yourself now to save yourself from the pain of death upon our guns."

I take a moment to look around my environment. No, their fleet still appears to be in a defensive posture quite a way away from me.

"I'll take that under advisement."

…

No, they're gone.

There are lots of very small bits of spaceship littering the system, but beyond the four inhabited planets and the dust cloud not much else. Given the mass of the stars it's a minor miracle that four rocky worlds managed to establish stable orbits, and I'm not surprised that gas giants either failed to form or were absorbed by the young stars. I'm a little surprised that they've already gone through all of their asteroids, but I suppose that four space aged civilisations burn through a lot of resources. Particularly if they're constantly building and destroying war fleets.

Incoming communication.

Is it Alstair?

No.

Put them through.

Compliance.

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four responding. What can I do for Llarr?"

"State business."

"Purchasing computer equipment from Alstair."

"Llarr make better."

"Do you make it better with plants?"

"Plants weak."

"You want anything else?"

"Keep visit short. Do not interfere. Will punish violation."

"Orange Lantern out."

I pass Llarr's orbit, heading for Alstair. Alstair has a couple of… I'm not sure that I'd call them moons, exactly. Clusters of asteroids held together by space plants that are kept in orbit. Reminds me a little uncomfortably of the bad guys from Wheeled Warriors. While there are areas of natural plant life on Alstair, plant-based industry looks quite a lot like the mechanical kind. The locals are just better at cleaning up after themselves, consciously designing and manipulating plant microbes to purify the soil and air. It might be worth trying to bring Euanthe here, actually. I mean, if she can survive a journey like this. I know that there are microbes that can eat oil spills, and if they can be consciously controlled that could prove to be a major boon in areas of contaminated soil.

Okay… Capital city should be about there… Bit odd that no one has tried to contact me yet-.

Incoming communication.

Ah. Good oh. Answer.

Compliance.

"State your business, Lantern."

Ring, what language?

Plekesh.

Curious. "Secure communiqué from Commander Fel Andar of the Blades of Alstair. Also, numerous personal missives from his company. I would also like to purchase some equipment."

"The Blades? Do you have his seal?"

"Yep." I take the small emblem out of subspace. "Can you see it from wherever you are, or do you want me to-?"

"Our druids can sense it now. You are cleared to proceed to the capital. An escort will join you shortly. Accompany them and there won't be any trouble."

"As you wish. Orange Lantern out."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
18:47 GMT

Alstair is noticeably more… Jungly than J was. The palace appears to be part tree village and part… I suppose the nearest thing I've seen is Swamp Thing's home. It's clearly plant, even if the ring weren't confirming that it certainly looks plant. But it's… No, that's what I'm thinking of. There was a bit in Swamp Thing where -shorn of Alec Holland's guiding intelligence, Swamp Thing visited the green and found that thanks to Tefé's influence- it had become populated by plant spirits mimicking Human civilisation. Plant cars, plant telegraphy wire, plant buildings and roads… J was like that, normal with a plant theme pasted over the top.

This isn't.

The people I've seen so far look kind of Dryad-like. Maybe a bit more like Euanthe was when I first found her, with the plant aspect being far less subtle than I've become accustomed to. The hair isn't kind of a bit reed-like or mossy, their heads sprout leaves or petals and are clearly shaped with that in mind. Their bodies likewise sprout bark and leaves as a person-shaped plant would and not as the sort of clothing-substitute that Euanthe wears.

**Thinking of someone else?**

I stop in the air.

**To whom am I speaking?**

**Such clarity of thought. You've done this before.**

**One of my closest friends is a telepath, as is her entire species.** The mental tone is feminine, imperious… **Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Queen Hyathis?**

**My actual title is Panala. But yes, I am she.**

**And what does 'Panala' mean?**

**You could translate it a few ways. 'Incarnate goddess of the living planet' is my favourite. Or if you were really sent by Commander Andar-** I feel her try and push a little into my mind. Nothing like as strongly as I'm trained to resist, even without construct assistance. **-then you can call me Empress.**

**You're not a goddess and you don't rule Thanagar, so why don't I call you 'Queen'?**

**Oh, you are interesting. Does your species not have any plant matter in their bodies naturally? Did you expunge it before coming here?**

**No, my species consumes plant matter and has symbiotic fungi in our digestive tract and on our skin. Why do you ask?**

**I should be able to feel it. But I can't. Perhaps you are simply too alien a creature.** Thank you, wards. **Your escort will be with you in a moment. I've decided to give you an immediate audience.**

I look down-. Ah. Four Thanagarians breach the canopy and beat their wings hard to gain height, heading towards me.

**Thank you, your majesty.**

**'Majesty'? I.. think I like that. Is that what you call your queen?**

**It's a standard mode of address, but… Yes, I refer to Queen Hippolyta as 'Your Majesty'.**

**Oh? And can she do this?**

Beneath me miles of forest canopy roils, boughs and leaves turning to.. form a face.

**Her father is our people's war god, so I doubt that plants are really her thing. I think you met her daughter, actually.**

**Oh?**

**Black haired Human woman with a golden lasso? I think she-.**

**Yes.** The mental tone is far less chirpy. **I remember her.**

Her presence vanishes from my mind. Hyathis may have been under the influence of the Gamma Gong at the time, but she was still giving the fight her all. I'm sure that she prefers being beaten by Diana and freed of the Gong's influence to being enslaved, but…

"Ho, Lantern!" The lead Thanagarian slows and adopts a more vertical position, raising his right hand to hail me. "We are to take you to the Queen!"

"Lead on."

He makes a motion with his left hand and two Thanagarians peel off, swooping back towards the palace structure. I suppose that's my cue. I shut down my flight aura, turning in the air to face the palace structure as I fall. I swiftly accelerate to terminal velocity, shooting past the Thanagarians as the palace gets larger and larger. The Thanagarians respond by tucking in their wings and diving after me. Okay, I've… Got no idea where I'm going. I slow, still facing the palace, and allow my escort to catch up. The leader pulls ahead of me and then bears off to the right. A second Thanagarian passes ahead of me and then I accelerate after them. I do this without changing my orientation; still facing down and still watching the city below me. I wonder if-. Ah! A different type of Zaredian, this one thin with grey-orange skin and thin white hyphae in place of leaves. Fungus Dryads? Are those a thing?

"Just here."

The leader points to a.. series of giant lily pads floating on a large pool which is in turn held above the forest floor, contained in a huge bowl of living wood. Flowers bloom all around a living pathway across the water. It's.. almost a shame that Swamp Thing generally limits himself to naturally occurring forms. This is…

As we touch down I'm smiling like an idiot and really not paying all that much attention to where I'm going at all. The pad gives slightly under my weight, but it appears able to support it. Not that I'm wearing full power armour for a visit to a nominally friendly state.

"This way."

The Thanagarians start out across the lily pad path and I -with slight trepidation- follow along with them. Let's see, if these are like Earth lily pads then the stem would be in the centre… The edges of the path part slightly overlap one another and it seems to be supporting the Thanagarians' weight without difficulty.

The air smells.. just as jungly as it looks. And there's a slight haze in the air. Water vapour?

Microscopic airborne plant organisms.

Security and detection, nice.

I'm just stepping onto the last pad as there's a change in the plants around me. The blooming flowers seem to brighten, their petals broadening as more flower stems pierce the surface of the water and burst open. Bark bare moments before sprouts elegantly patterned leaves angled to make slanting stripes down the interior walls as vines hanging from the ceiling flower in unison. Then the leaves move, a perfectly choreographed undulating pattern which for one disquieting moment reminds me of nothing so much as the maw of some great predator.

Then the leaves and flowers… Oh, she didn't. Yes she did, they're bowing down as she walks out of the building and out onto the platform on the far side of the pool. She's not a particularly tall woman, actually, though her pink and purple leaf fronds do render her visually distinct from her subjects. Leaves sprout from her back forming a cape while her modesty -assuming that she has anything to be modest about- is preserved by a mini dress made of petals. The Thanagarians drop to their knees with their heads bowed as she approaches, the flowers and leaves turning to follow her.

I'm favoured with a small smile. "Are you impressed now?"

"Swamp Thing covered a whole city of steel, stone and concrete in plant life in about five minutes. It's.. reasonably impressive, but it isn't anything I haven't seen before."

She rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. "Your homeworld is insane. I do hope that you realise that."

"Oh yes, most certainly."

"Fine, fine." She waves her right hand and the extra growth dies, browning and becoming brittle in seconds. "You have something for me?"

I walk closer before holding out Commander Andar's token. "I was hoping that I might-?"

A plant tendril snatches it from my hand and rapidly conveys it to Queen Hyathis. "Hm. You found him work, good. It doesn't do for them to be sitting idle. And you want examples of our technology so.. that…" I see a flare of light inside her. "The inhabitants of planet J can examine them. I agree, so long as we can examine some of theirs in return. Was there anything else?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
23:38 GMT

What would a spaceship made of plant matter look like? It turns out, pretty much like one made of anything else. The physics which make a particular design sensible apply equally to whatever you make it of. Normal wood isn't a more sensible building material than bone or flesh, and the thaumically enhanced sort that they grow their hulls out of is still forced into shape by similar design priorities to the ships I've seen before.

"What do yeh think?"

The retired fleet officer next to me pats the hull affectionately. Once Queen Hyathis had an agreement in principle I became a good deal less interesting. Not unreasonable, she does have a planet to run and a war to orchestrate. Enneret is one of the people assigned to look after Alstair's mothball shipyard as a sort of working retirement.

"I'm not really familiar enough with the magic involved to pass comment."

"Oh yeh? That Swamp Thing of yours not do a lot of shipbuilding, then?"

"No. As far as I know, if he wants to go somewhere through space he adjusts his own resonance frequency and connects to the plant life there." Although… I.. don't think Swamp Thing 16 has experienced the events that led him to develop that ability. Or at least use it in that fashion. Certainly he wasn't set on fire at the conclusion of his attack on Gotham. Would that have happened if I hadn't involved myself? I wonder if I can get him interested in this. Or Tefé?

"Cor." He looks impressed. "That sorta thing takes some serious skill. What happens to his body?"

"He's a plant spirit more than a physical plant being like yourself. He only makes bodies so people have something to talk at. Or when he wants to hit someone."

He appears to take that in his stride. "We do something a bit similar for drones and weapon mounts. But ships like this always have a crew."

I take another look over the hull. "No joins, seams or weld points. Is it grown as a single unit?"

"No, but we graft the bits together and then smooth it all over. Every ship's a single living organism."

"How do you get in? I don't see a door anywhere."

He lays his right hand on the hull and rolls his eyes back in his head for a moment. In response a nearby section of hull creaks and snaps out, connected to the interior by thick vines. "Magic."

"Just you coming with me?"

"Usually have a crew of three or four in a real fight." He sighs. "Back when me and this one got fights. Just me's fine for a milk run like this." He steps towards the hatch. "You coming?"

"I think I'll stay on the outside. Can I assume that the FTL system isn't Lantern-speed?"

"I wouldn't want to try flying this across the system, if I'm honest. But I'm not going to be able to talk to you outside. I can't connect to your body's plants and the hull blocks every other form of communication."

I frown. Not giving this guy a power ring… "How do you talk to the Thanagarians?"

"Symbiotic algae. How do you think the queen cured that plague? Same deal. Get enough of it in their body they can even control plants like we do. Some of them, anyway."

Oh, that's worth knowing. "Okay, well, once we get to minimum safe distance we're flying straight to wherever Medphyll-."

"Medphyll? That's his name? Why didn't he just call himself 'Plant Man' and have done with it?"

"Um."

"You don't call yourself 'Meat Man', do you? Honestly, what sort of parent calls their child something like that?"

"I.. don't really know enough about J's naming traditions... Look, he's perfectly capable of connecting to other plant forms. He can talk to you when we meet him. We'll probably drop you off on J for a bit, if that's alright."

"Fine with me." He strides into the ship, the hatch closing behind him. For a moment I can see the join, and a few cracks where the hard outer layer was slightly chipped by the separation. Then there's a very slight movement along the edges of the join and it's gone. Then the ship sort of wobbles a little before lifting off its berth and turning nose up. With a hum, it shoots upwards into the air.

I rise a little slower, looking around at this place as I do so. I remember an episode of Top Gear when they visited a place like this, a place in the desert where the United States dumps planes it doesn't need at the moment. Here are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of plant-based spacecraft that survived the constant warring to reach obsolescence. Most are relatively small, though there are a few of cruiser size. As I gain height I can see small groups of military cadets clustering around one under the eyes of an instructor. A lesson? Maybe a class project?

It's all so wasteful. These ships might be past it by military standards but if the apparently unwinnable war was abandoned they could serve any number of civilian purposes. Or perhaps they could sell them to J? From what I saw coming in they didn't appear to have anything in the way of orbital infrastructure.

I accelerate, rapidly gaining on the plant ship. The Antares Conflict really isn't my problem, though as far as I can see I'd gain more by working with Alstair than any of the other three. I'll come back here once I've returned to Earth, see if I can get Euanthe something. I'm already plotting our return course as I leave the atmosphere, not really bothering to look at the planet below me. I saw it all on the way in and.. it's not like this is the first plant world I've seen.

The plant ship levels out as it turns in the general direction of J. It does have an FTL drive, but since the Antares Conflict rarely moves beyond the boundaries of this system it isn't designed for more than brief hops. I extend my environmental shield around it and warp.

…

Pfffff.

Yes, Prince Markov was definitely right about flying long distances. Maybe I should ask Hinon about getting a spaceship of my own? It wouldn't be faster than I can fly at peak motivation, but it would take some of the boredom away.

Sector 586 appears around us in a sudden dimming of the starscape. Ring, location of Lantern Komand'r?

Location set as waypoint.

Haven't gone far, then.

Warp again, this time for a few seconds, and I appear in interstellar space. A short distance away I can see two orange glows and one green one, silhouetted against a large spaceship. Looks like… Bulk transportation?

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four to Koriand'r. Are you busy?"

"No. The ship malfunctioned and called for aid. Is this what being a Lantern is?"

"A Sector Lantern, yes. Sometimes helping people means killing slavers, sometimes it means repairing things for them." The plant ship begins to move under its own power again so I retract my environmental shield. "Are you nearly finished?"

"Yes. Is that ship Dominator? I had imagined them being more fearsome."

"No, just Alstairian. A proof of concept." I transition up to the ship, where Medphyll and Koriand'r are mending a gash in the outer hull. Looks like an internal explosion. Komand'r floats nearby with her arms folded across her chest, clearly disinterested. "Lantern Medphyll, is this something you can work with?"

He holds out his ring in its general direction, a frown appearing on his forehead. Then he nods. "Yes. I believe that it is."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th August
09:57 GMT

The planet Cairn reminds me of Rashash-

I duck my head back as a chunk of concrete comes flying past.

-oon, in that it's a-

I raise shield-shaped personal force field to soak a couple of misdirected plasma pulses.

-hangout for violent criminals and mercenaries. The difference is that rather than being a state that has socially reengineered itself to cater for mercenaries, it's a failed state that is gradually being overtaken by them. Where it isn't being overtaken by drug lords or other brands of criminals. It's all.. so… Inefficient. Barely any order, limited capacity due to everything and everyone being unreliable-. Hellhole, that's what this planet reminds me of. Lantern Chance would feel right at home here.

"AAArrraaaaaagh!"

A four armed and shell-covered alien stagger-charges towards me, the green drool dripping from.. his..?

Subject is most likely neutral gender.

His four-pronged beak-mouth suggesting either mental decay or an addiction to one of this planet's main exports: highly addictive designer narcotics. I don't actually recognise the species-

Subject is Brogian.

-but they don't appear to have more than muscular strength. I lunge, covering the distance between us faster than he can react and striking him between the eyes with my right fist. His feet shoot out from under him and he lands hard on his back.

Ring, how much electricity is appropriate to stun one of these?

Calibrating taser.

"Dah!"

The Brogian shakes, then lies still.

Thank you.

A couple of Khundian soldiers guarding the shop I'm heading towards regard the scene not so much with interest as with bored disinterest in everything else. The manner of their dress implies that they're irregulars; the fact that they held discipline when people near them fought strongly suggests that I'm in the right place.

I straighten, pulling my cloak around my light armour as I do so. The Khundians should see me as a well-equipped professional mercenary, but not.. exceptional. Heavy power armour such as I usually wear in combat would stand out too much in these parts. No Psion-equivalent around here to hand out ultra-tech to the local hard cases.

Well. The scan I made from outside the atmosphere suggested that someone with a yellow power ring had been through here at some point, but I'm not seeing any Qwardian technology around her-.

"That's far enough."

The Khundian closest to me has his right arm out slightly. He's not exactly blocking my path, but it's clear that he can at very short notice. He's only got a few centimetres on me in height but is far broader. Again, Khundians aren't super strong but they can arm wrestle Okaarans at no disadvantage.

"What you doing here, little man?"

"I'm here to talk to Mister Kharhi."

I don't make eye contact, instead keeping my gaze focused on the door in front of me. Poking around the periphery of Dominion space is a risky prospect, and I'd rather not start a fight with anyone else. At least, not until it's essential to do so and I have an overwhelming advantage. I'd much rather just purchase examples of Dominator technology from a licensed vendor. The Khundians have an… Understanding with the Dominators and are known to use their technology upon occasion.

"And what makes you think he wants to talk to you?"

"Makes it rather hard to sell things if he won't talk to customers."

"Mister Kharhi isn't your type of two-bit gunrunner. Go hit up a boomshack on northside if you want a new popgun, fool."

"Is this some sort of test? A hazing? Because I think I'm going to get annoyed with it rather fast."

"No." He leans closer. "This is me telling you go get lost."

His colleague cracks his knuckles with a grin. "Or we help you get lost."

Weak body armour, weak personal force fields, reasonably tough physiology but nothing special. So many ways…

I manifest a railgun under my coat and fire a hard foam round at the closest before back-pedalling. He snarls and starts to come at me as the stuff coats him and his colleague, hardening enough to bring him to a halt. I then step around to his right side and strap a bomb to his forehead, pressing the activator switch in the centre to make it give a worrisome beep. The second Khundian is even more enveloped, eyes glaring at me defiantly as I apply a bomb directly to his forehead as well.

"Mediocre."

I step away as the Khundian who did most of the talking goes cross-eyed trying to look at the bomb. Not all that hard to get off, if you've got fingers far smaller than he has. Right, door. The relatively unimpressive shop façade does a little to disguise the fact that the exterior is actually quite well armoured. The door mechanism… Scan. Armed, but a simple electromagnetic burst takes care of that and a crumbler round takes care of the lock. I shove the door open and take a scan of the interior. A short corridor going… Ah. I step inside, kicking the door shut behind me.

"Mister Kharhi, this is not good customer service."

"I have no interest in dealing with the weak." No obvious source for the voice. Sound induction, probably. "Are you armed?"

"Yes."

"Good." A section of floor shimmers and vanishes, revealing a stairway down into the ground. "So are we."

"So noted." I make a show of looking around while keeping my hands from pointing at anything. "Are we trading today?"

"Get down here and we'll talk about it."

I flex my hands, then start down the steps. According to Amalak's contacts, Kharhi is a pretty well connected fellow. If the Dominator computer parts I want can be bought, he should be able to supply them.

"Do I have to jump through any more hoops?"

"You better have something worth trading, but you seem to know your business."

The door at the bottom of the steps is a fortified bulkhead protected with two layers of force field. I wait for them to be deactivated, and then the door bolts clunk free and the door swings open. Another similarly fortified door inside. Fair enough. I make a point of activating my personal force field and then step through. The door clunks shut behind me, and I hear a faint hum as the shields reactivate. Then-.

Heh.

"An environmental purification system? Really?"

"There is honour in being slain by a skilled warrior. There is none in choking up one's own lungs while they watch your struggles like a callous, disinterested vivisectionist."

I nod. "My people forbid the use of gas weapons in war. I hadn't realised that Khundians have a similar restriction."

"We don't. Honour is for Khundians. We're perfectly happy to gas the rest of you." The purification system stops and the inner door clanks open. "Come in, alien, and make me an offer."

I take a step forward. "Just so we're clear, I'm wearing my purification system."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th August
10:02 GMT

Khundians are a great species to act as the bad guys in superhero comics. From their aggression, brutality and their disdain for aliens to their cultural bias towards head-on confrontation. Most arms dealers around here wouldn't meet me in person, or if they did it would be from behind a fortified customer service desk and with a dozen or so automatic turrets trained on me. There would be a bomb under my chair and -around here- probably an ambush waiting for me down the road after the meeting ended.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

Mister Kharhi doesn't bother with any of that. He's wearing light armour with a pretty respectable force field emitter built-in, but he's not got any other cover at all. Much like the Thanagarians, Khundians prefer operating computer systems while standing. There also aren't any automated guns. There is one Khundian in heavy armour -not powered, I note- with powerful force fields and a couple of rather large guns, but that's pretty much it. More than enough for most encounters like this, but nothing like enough to bother me if I was acting openly.

The small Khundian girl who appears to be performing maintenance on a plasma projector is also a little unusual.

"Orange. I want to purchase examples of Dominator technology."

"That narrows it down." He half-turns towards a weapon rack. "I've got lasers, gasers, grasers, a couple of their short-lifespan viral missiles. There's some heavier stuff out the back, but I'm going to want to see some currency before I let you anywhere near it."

"I'm really more interested in their computer equipment."

Mister Kharhi turns back to me, left eyebrow slightly raised. "Computer equipment? I'm an arms dealer."

"You buy from the Dominion." I shrug. "You can get it, right?"

"Yeah. Probably." He looks a little more cautious. The relationship between the Khundian Empire and the Dominion is reasonably good despite the anti-alien prejudice of both parties due to the fact that they're located quite some distance away from one another. That wouldn't mean that the Dominion would hesitate to disappear an arms dealer who overstepped where they thought that the bounds were. "What do you need?"

"Whatever you can get. The more sophisticated, the more I'm willing to pay."

"Bulk buy?"

"No. Single pieces."

"Ehh." He strokes his goatee with his right hand. "What are you planning on doing with this?"

"What do you care?"

"I care, because if it turns out you were reselling to people doing intelligence gathering on the Dominion's warships them cutting off my access would be the least of my worries."

The ironic thing being that while I'm actually not going to do that, what I am going to do will probably make them even angrier.

"No, nothing like that."

"What, then? And this better be convincing, because I'm not selling you a thing unless it is."

I raise my right hand, palm upwards, and trigger a hologram projector to display a slideshow of images taken from J and Alstair. "I'm speculating. I believe that the technologies a couple of worlds I've visited use would be compatible with Dominator computer systems. I think that if they studied them, it could advance them quite a good deal."

"Oh? Where are these worlds?"

"I'm not telling you that." I shut down the hologram and lower my hand. "I don't want any competition when I show them my price list."

"Heh." A small smile, though empathic vision suggests that it's more to encourage me to keep talking than out of any actual sense of amusement. "That makes sense, but I'm still taking most of the risk if you're lying."

"What? You've seen my face. You've scanned my gear. If they ask, you can pass all of that on. Are you telling me that no one has ever shot at a Dominator using Dominator weaponry?"

"Dominators booby-trap weapons they haven't cleared for export." He thinks for a moment. "I can get you… Personal computers. Interfaces, weapon processors, that kind of thing. That what you want?"

"Sure, as long as you don't want much in exchange. But what I really want are central computers." He tightens the muscles of his right cheek. "It doesn't have to be current generation. A couple of generations old is fine. I'm not going to try and get my clients to compete directly with the Dominators-."

"'cause that's a good way to get your clients killed."

"Right."

Probably would be, actually. In this case J should be safe, in a stable Sector with a resident Green Lantern. If they were a larger presence then getting uppity at the Dominators might result in them suffering 'unexplained shipping losses', but if I remember Swamp Thing they generally try to avoid going near plant manipulators for exactly the reason I'm trying to exploit. But if Alstair learned enough to win the Antares conflict and expand… Then I imagine that the Dominion would sponsor someone -probably the Khundians, actually- to take a crack at them.

But just cribbing out of date Dominator technology to give themselves a boost? I'd be surprised if they cared. It's a very big galaxy. Dominators' warp gates let them move around fast, unless they have no presence in a region and they don't in either case. Chances are it would be generations before they found out, and by that point both worlds would be using things so different from what they started with that they might not even spot it.

"I could probably get something. Core from a wrecked cruiser. Good condition, nothing they'd care about missing."

"Sounds promising. How long?"

"Ah, not so fast. How are you paying?"

"Metals?"

He shrugs. "Metal market's not so good at the moment." I reach into my coat and pull out a thin strip of orichalcum. He wrinkles his nose. "Gold? What am I supposed to do with that?"

I toss it to him and he catches it in his left hand. "Try bending it."

He rolls his eyes. "Gold-" The muscles in his left hand tense. "-is-." He blinks, squeezes harder and then brings it up to his face for a closer look.

"Interested?"

"Interested, sure. How much you got?"

"A little more than that."

"Can you get more?"

"Not… Easily."

"No good then." He tosses it back and I catch it with my right hand. "I'd buy in bulk, but a small sample's no good to me. What am I going to do with a weirdly hard strip of metal?"

"Sell it to a better class of client. Science types would find it fascinating."

He shrugs. "I don't move in those kind of circles. Try again."

"The Dominators would probably be interested in it. If you have dealings-."

"My contacts are-" He points to the middle of his forehead with his right hand. "-low caste. Factory workers and scrap dealers. The people who'd be interested in that are high caste. Unless you can supply in bulk..?"

I could, but I'm not selling orichalcum in bulk to the Khundian Empire. "No. Alright, how about-" I reach into my coat again. "-one of these?"

I pull out an Nth Metal cutlass and his eyes light up. Thanagarians are pretty fastidious about Nth Metal not falling into enemy hands, and with Thanagar being just about the only source of the stuff in this galaxy the metal alone can go for some extravagant prices. Either with scientists or with warlords looking for a trophy.

Mister Kharhi nods. "Six days. Don't lose it. Now get out, I've got work to do."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th August
10:57 GMT -5

"Scott, you realise that these-"

"Recognised, Mister Miracle, two one, Grayven, A one one, Lynne Wayland, A one two."

"-zeta tubes are inferior to hush tubes-"

Mitchell waves at us. "Hey Grayven."

"-in every way." I stride forwards, beaming at.. my friend. Friends. Kon and M'gann are here as well, his left arm around her and her right around him. It really has been a while… Five months -pretty much- since I've seen a lot of them.

I spread my arms wide and embrace the three of them.

"Good to see you again."

Kon ends up slightly squashed between his girlfriend and his brother. "Yeah, well, maybe next time you infiltrate a supervillain team you'll come visit sometimes."

"I'll be sure to do that." I release them. "Not like I couldn't have snuck in whenever I wanted anyway."

M'gann smiles politely. "Sure you could." I smile and behind me Scott coughs self-consciously. Her eyes widen slightly. "Wait, you actually could?"

I beam. "How have you all been?"

"School went okay." Mitchell shrugs. "Kinda boring when I already know everything they're teaching, but… Meeting.. normal people… That's kinda cool."

"Kon and I visited my parents on Mars using the hush tube!"

Gosh. That must have been like a cultural missile strike. "And how did they take your.. redness?"

"Ah, they were.. okay." Her eyes shift to the side. "Ah…"

Kon gives her a squeeze. "One of her little brothers told his neighbours and some of his friends. Next thing we know the whole city was freaking out. We got a military escort to go and see Prince Jemm."

M'gann nods, her face tilting slightly towards the floor. "Everyone found out all at once that the whole.. reason for Martian apartheid is that some super powerful aliens messed around with our ancestors, and the only reason why we revere our leaders is that they look most like our crazy ancestors."

"Did you..? Intend-?"

"No! I just-!" She throws up her hands. "I couldn't keep something like that a secret!" Looking past her I see Wallace and… Frances Kane, in some pink and white abomination of a New God's armoured raiment. Scott, you couldn't do better than that? "The whole thing completely defined our civilisation since… Since it started, and it's-. Hateful nonsense."

I shrug. "You know Martian society better than me." Ring, remind me to check on Mars at some point. I don't want the place to go the way of every other DC version of Mars if I can help it.

By your command.

"Hey Grayven!" Wallace waves as he approaches. "You remember Frankie, right?"

M'gann and the Els step aside to let the two of them through. I nod, and extend my right hand to her. "Of course. How are you doing?"

"Ah. Better, thank you." She starts to hold out her right hand, then pulls her fingers into her palm as if she's not quite sure whether or not she should. I give her a warm smile and give my hand a little shake, extending it a little further. She checks my face as if.. to make sure that she's allowed, then takes my hand. I make a point of clasping it and actually shaking it rather than just holding it there.

"I'm glad to hear that. And your control of your magnetic abilities?"

"They're… Actually, they're almost perfect. I've been… Using the mana infuser Zatanna made for me, and…" She tugs at her right hand and I let it go. She holds it out and there's a quiet boom as a miniature boom tube opens, iron filings streaming out. They're rapidly collected into a shining grey sphere, which turns into an cylinder and then flattens into a platform. "I can make it do just about anything."

"Excellent. Well done. It usually takes-" Wallace sticks his head out to the side, frowning. "-someone…" Idiot. I turn aside and motion Lynne forwards with my right hand. She somewhat self consciously comes up alongside me, staying close to my left leg. "Everyone, this is my daughter Lynne Wayland. Lynne, this is Wallace West, Frances Kane, M'gann M'orzz, Mitchell Kent and K-errr." I frown at Kon. "Are you going by 'Kon' or 'Conner' now?"

"Kinda getting used to 'Conner'. Just sounds better next to 'Mitchell'."

Ah, the Aerith and Bob effect. "Conner Kent, then."

"Hi?"

"Y'know?" Wallace looks a little awkward. "I know you said you were thirty, but this is still.. kind weirda."

M'gann elbows him. "Wally."

"Oh. Sorry." He gives Lynne a smile. "I don't think we met when I visited your mountain. It's just… We all kinda assumed Grayven was our age when he joined the team." Lynne frowns, then looks up at me. She then looks at Wallace as if he's an idiot. "Hey, he wasn't that big at the time."

No one says anything for a moment, their eyes doing that slightly unfocused thing they do when someone is speaking telepathically. I doubt that they're excluding me intentionally, but… Unless I intentionally suppress my barriers I'm not going to hear anything.

I make an effort and suppress my barriers.

**-want me to train with Mister Black, but he sounds okay.**

**Dad doesn't.. like me training with him too much either. Mostly I do things with the G-Gnomes or at the Center.** Lynne smiles at M'gann. **You should visit!**

**I'd be really interested to meet more telepathic Humans! So far I've only met Henry, but there's so much I learned on Mars that I could show them!**

I nod. "They're always looking for telepathic teaching assistants." Surprised stares and a slight air of guilt. "It would probably look good on your college application if you volunteered to assist them. As well as helping the children. I can arrange an appointment if you're interested?"

M'gann blinks. "Um, yes. Thank you."

"Uh." Kon-. Conner looks less sure. "Wouldn't you need to tell them that Megan Morse was telepathic to do that?"

"I can do it as Miss Martian. It'll be fine."

"Ah, Grayven?" Wallace shifts awkwardly. "Not that it's not.. great that you're not a supervillain and all, but… What's with the visit?"

"I'm going to be leaving the planet for a while, shutting up shop and taking the 'Grayven Experience' to the Vega Systems." Wallace looks slightly nervous. "I'm going to free a bunch of people from the rule of a brutally tyrannous regime, help with rebuilding their civilisation-" He starts looking slightly less nervous. "-and then build my own Lantern Corps. Imagine it! A legion of Orange Lanterns under my command bringing justice to the universe!"

Wallace goes back to looking nervous. Some people.

"Oh right." Conner nods. "I think you said something about that before you left. When are you heading out?"

"A couple of days. I wanted to tie up loose ends and.. say goodbye to you guys properly. Is Kaldur around?"

Conner nods. "No, but he should be back real soo-."

"Recognised, Aqualad, B zero two,-"

Excellent. I turn-.

"-Robin, B zero one."

Oh.

Marvellous.

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th August
15:02 GMT -5

"Afternoon, Grayven." Sam nods at me politely, then frowns slightly as he looks at my companion. "And.. you're Jean, right?"

"Yes, General." She gives him a mildly deferential bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

He looks at me curiously. "Any particular reason you brought her along?"

"Yes. I'm going to be leaving the planet for an indeterminate period of time with a good deal of my retinue. If you need information or assistance Jean will be your point of contact, so I thought it would be wise to introduce you."

"Oh." He nods. "Anything I should know about?"

"I assume that the League informed you of my father's visitation?"

"Yeah. Damn near put the fear of God into me." I smile, bowing my head slightly. "What?"

"Reminds me of a film from Earth Prime. The villain of the piece asks a senator he kidnapped whether or not he considers himself a God-fearing man, as he himself has always preferred to think of God as kind and loving. Not someone to be feared. Then he.. suggests that the senator should be afraid of him instead." My smile falls away. "In this case, being afraid of Darkseid is considerably more sensible. The Christian God is unlikely to turn up inside your home."

"There really nothing we could do to stop him?"

"Nothing that would be reliable, or leave you with much of a planet left. I'm working on the problem, but-" His desk intercom buzzes. "-it's going to be a long term thing."

He nods, then presses the 'answer' button. "Yeah?"

"Director Armstrong is here, sir."

"Good. Show her in." I raise my eyebrows as he takes his finger off the button. "Katarina Armstrong is the newly appointed Director of the Department of Metahuman Affairs. We wanted to bring you in on the vetting, but with you being out of commission and then incommunicado…"

"I'm sure that she's a fine choice. Didn't go with the 'Extranormal Operations' title?"

"President's office thought it sounded too militant. Since it's supposed to be a civilian organization investigating crimes and social issues rather than one big super powered SWAT team." He waves his right hand dismissively. "That stuff's not my department. Whatever makes it easier to sell it."

I nod. "I think the.. training program aspect was the one I was most concerned about them getting right. Did the budget get-?"

I cut myself off as the door opens, Sam's junior aide-de-camp just barely getting out of the way as the.. striking blonde woman behind her strides through. "General Lane." She stops as her eyes alight on me, the lieutenant behind her giving her a slightly evil eye before leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind him. "And the two illegal aliens."

I rise to my feet. "As I understand it, I have de facto recognition as a diplomatic official. And.. Jean is a member of my staff. And was created in the United States. Though it's funny you should put it like that; for years Lex Luthor would only address Kal-El as 'the alien' as well." I smile and hold out my right hand. "Congratulations on your appointment."

"Thank you." She approaches, takes my hand for exactly long enough that I can't be certain if she's deliberately insulting me or just in a hurry, and then sits down on the pew opposite. "I've made my view clear to the President and to General Lane that you should have killed Luthor when you had the chance."

I sit back down, half-turned towards her. "I made it quite clear when I spoke to him that his stay of execution could be rescinded at any time. Has he.. done something that would warrant that?"

"No. Not that we have the ability to keep tabs on everything he does."

Hm. "I'll check in with him when I get back from my trip. I should say though that he did seem reasonably amenable to the idea of not being killed."

"You're going somewhere?"

I nod. "The Vega Systems. It's-."

"I know where Vega is, Grayven."

"Actually, you don't. There's this rather interesting gravitational lensing effect, which means that Humans tend to underestimate how-."

"Does anything you're going to be doing there have any impact on metahuman-related security in America?"

"Not in the short term, though it is part of my eventual scheme for preventing Father from coming back."

"Then don't bother telling me until you've got something concrete to brief me on. I'm building a federal agency, I don't have time for things that aren't relevant to my work."

I open my right hand in a mock surrender gesture. "Very well. In that case I should warn you that my retinue and I are going to be unavailable for several weeks. Jean will be your-" I lean back slightly and gesture to her with my right hand. "-point of contact."

"When can I expect you to report for training?"

Um? "Training? I'm not sure I follow."

"The licensing program for civilian vigilantes. Like you. Other vigilantes will be much more likely to be willing to participate once they've seen you receiving your certification, and you would actually be able to arrest people. Legally arrest people."

Huh. I suppose that she does sort of have a point. Not.. sure.. how I feel about it… I turn to Sam. "I thought that Major Adams was going to be the lead on this?"

"Major Adams is a military officer under my command. I've got him on loan to the DMA, but he doesn't qualify for the licensing scheme."

Huh. Rats. I.. suppose that's it's only reasonable that she ask, though I find my mental teeth grinding at the possibility that I may need to actually report to someone.

"I.. wasn't.. around when the final wording was drafted. Can people who aren't US citizens go through this process..?"

"Yes." Director Armstrong sounds very sure of the fact. "Given how many American Justice League members are space aliens I made sure that the text specifies that it applies to anyone operating inside the US."

"I thought that it wasn't going to be a compulsory thing? Individual.. cities were still going to be able to sort out their own relationships?"

"Rifle isn't large enough to qualify, and you haven't done any work there anyway."

"Oh, that's not true. There was a car theft a couple of months ago-."

"Director. Grayven." We both look at Sam. "No, it's not compulsory. But we want it to become the default access route to superheroing inside our lifetimes. We can do it without you if we have to… But, heck, you were the one saying it was such a great idea."

He's not wrong. It is, just… For everyone else. Ah well. "We can have a chat about it after I get back from Vega. Obviously, I.. wouldn't be working for the DMA directly, just being the standard bearer for the registration program."

"That's what I asked. What about the rest of your people? The Tiger, the Gothic Flash,-"

"Hah!"

"-the pyro-."

"No, she's.. not interested in law enforcement. Not yet, anyway. Nothing quite like being shadowed by SHADE agents for years to put you off that sort of thing."

"And the British duo. And the-" She glances at Jean. "-Genomorphs."

No mention of Sunset Shimmer? I suppose that she hasn't been quite as visible as the others…

"I'll be certain to ask them about it."