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

[Mr Zoat]

7th August
16:47 GMT -5

By now, people aren't anything like as excited about a boom tube opening inside the Centre as they used to be. The children -if there are any around- barely bother looking up from whatever they're doing. The adults generally pay a little more attention, most likely curious as to what strange freak of nature I'm going to be bringing with me today.

Katarina Armstrong was quite definite about stepping through the boom tube ahead of me. Obviously she couldn't actually barge me out of the way, but she strode forward sufficiently fast that my choice was 'let her' or 'trample her'. I think.. maybe I should have a chat with her about what happens if a boom tube aperture opens inside of a baseline human. She took the time to switch out of the suit she wore for our meeting with Sam in favour of tight fitting black trousers and a green turtleneck sweater with a yellow diamond on the chest. That must be sweltering when she's outside, but Americans do love their air conditioning.

The receptionist tries smiling at her. "Can I help-?"

"We're here to see Doctor Williams." Director Armstrong sweeps past the reception desk in the direction of his office.

"Ah..?"

I pull a slightly strained face in the receptionist's direction and shake my head before striding after Director Armstrong. "Director, if I might intrude for a moment?"

"Speak."

"I can understand you confronting me like that with General Lane. I'm an awkward irregularity, trying to hold myself above the rules I expect other people to follow, and… My presence could undermine your position. Fine. When I said that I would sign up and do PR for you, I meant it. And I should really have volunteered without needing to be pushed."

No obvious response. She could at least appreciate my magnanimousness a little bit.

"But… This is a civilian school. Aside from a couple of minor indiscretions on Miss Selton's part and.. a couple of parking tickets, no one here has committed an offence. Or shown any propensity towards vigilantism."

"Except your daughter and Claire Selton."

"Miss Selton was defending herself, and it was a one time thing. The point that I wish to make is that I've got a broad back. Hurt my pride, I'll live with it. But this is my daughter's school."

She stops and turns around, staring up at me. "Wasn't that why the British attacked it and put everyone's lives in danger?"

I smile. "What's the point of having deniable assets if you don't deny what they do?"

"Don't give me that. You pissed them off-"

I glance at a nearby classroom. "Language!"

"-and they came after this school. That's exactly the sort of thing competent operatives won't allow to happen in the future."

"My people were on site in moments and the fatalities were zero. Even on their side."

"And there's absolutely nothing to stop them doing it again."

Hm. Could make reference to the Blacks' ongoing investigation, but I think it might be better if I kept her out of the loop. "Aside from the operation's total failure, the destruction of SHADE's resource base and the tremendous expense of the robot." And the fact that if something like that happens again I'm going to be a good deal less patient. "And they know that President Horne didn't believe their denial for a moment." And I hid multiphasic sensors on the roof with a hotline to Challenger Mountain and all of my personnel. Anyone trying that again would be swarmed under in G-Elves before they even reached the Center.

Director Armstrong turns away and resumes her journey towards Doctor Williams' office, this time at a more normal walking pace. She takes the opportunity to look in through one of the interior windows at a class in progress. Not Lynne's class, but Mister Valjek is in there giving one of their parapsychics… Seers, I suppose that I should say, some personal tuition.

"How many telepaths do you have working for you?"

"There are hundreds of G-Gnomes in total, but only a score or so in Challenger Mountain. I imagine that the Genomorph Collective would be perfectly willing to work with you, if you're interested in acquiring the capacity for telepathic information gathering."

"They were made by Cadmus."

"The original material was acquired from elsewhere, but this particular refinement was, yes."

"Cadmus is Luthor. Luthor is the enemy. I'm not hiring anything he made." She turns the corner, entering the corridor with Doctor Williams' office in it. "The children here, on the other hand…"

"May consider a career in law enforcement if they and their parents are approached appropriately. I would remind you that this place had trouble with SHADE and that they no longer receive any sort of government funding. I strongly recommend donning your more beneficent aspect if you want to get anything out of this."

"I'll take it under advisement." She takes hold of the door handle and sharply turns it before shoving the door open. "Doctor Williams."

He looks up from his computer -a slightly more modern model than when I first visited him- and blinks at her for a moment. "Oh. You must be-."

"Director Armstrong of the DMA."

I walk in behind her and close the door behind me, giving Doctor Williams a mildly apologetic wave.

"You're a.. little early, but I wasn't doing anything I can't put on hold." He presses something on his keyboard, then steeples his hands on the desk in front of him. "Can I offer you some coffee?"

"No. Thank you. What I want to-." She steps back as a chair floats from the side of the room to a position just in front of his desk.

"Please, take a seat."

I wonder if she's taken any notice of what I was telling her. I want the DMA to succeed. Doctor Williams doesn't care much either way. To be honest, he'd probably rather it failed, as someone in central government getting interested is likely to generate extra busywork for him. Then… There's the fact that he could probably squeeze her jugular vein closed…

"Thank you, Doctor."

And a slight smile. Good show. I take my own chair out of subspace and plonk myself down just behind her to her left, noting that the chair he selected for her leaves her head just slightly lower than his.

"So." He smiles. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm interested in the work you do here. You train young children with innate psychic powers how to use them better. There are a few other places across the US that do something similar, but only on a much smaller scale."

"Yes, that's certainly true. I have correspondences with most of them."

"The DMA is going to be looking to train adults with all sorts of powers. Most people with super powers either try and work them out on their own, or get taught by someone else with powers. That happens even if they join the military. The United States has never had a decent federal training program. I'm going to build one, and I want help from you and your staff."

"I see. What.. sort of help?"

"I want to hire them for my program. Or rent them. They have expertise that their country needs. And I want them teaching people to do what they do, the techniques they use. Obviously the DMA would be paying for everything."

Doctor Williams thinks about it for a moment. "That sounds reasonable. We do.. actually do some work with adults here. Today's lessons will be ending soon if you'd like to talk to some of the staff."

She nods. "Yes. I would."

"And… You… Don't want to draft any of our students..?"

"I'd like it if any of them with useful abilities came to work for us, but the US military is a volunteer organization. I'd like to get someone in to do career talks with the older students, but if they don't want to join up, fine. I don't know what SHADE was trying to pull here, but my organization is going to be legitimate."

Doctor Williams smiles. "Then I think we should be able to work together."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
14:15 GMT

Tracking device number three… Removed. Ring, picking up anything else?

No further tracking devices detected. Warning: this technology is sufficiently dissimilar to devices on record that highly covert monitoring systems may escape detection.

I take a rune stone out of an equipment pouch and slowly move it around the surface of what was allegedly the central computer for a Dominator cruiser. It's about the size of a van.. and matches the partial scans that were on John's ring's database. The Green Lantern Corps has destroyed Dominator ships before, but they are generally designed in such a way that the most important bits are thoroughly disintegrated. The Guardians probably have better records…

No reaction from the stone, so no magic-based alert system. Which means that if it does have a monitoring system it's almost certainly sublight. After I picked it up I made a few random warp journeys and waited around to see if a Dominator ship would follow me. Nothing so far, and I left hard-to-detect sensors along the way. It's true that leaving an alien to be killed by another isn't the Khundian way, but I thought that a little caution was in order. Perhaps I was being unnecessarily paranoid. Of the devices I removed only one was a blatant leave-a-trail-and-tell-me-where-they-are type tracking device, probably put there by Mister Kharhi. The other two may well have been parts of the ship when it was still functional.

I take one last look around the highly radioactive nebula I'm hiding in. It's really quite pretty when viewed by radiation-proof eyes. Otherwise I wouldn't want to come here in anything less than a solid lead box. Hm. Ring, plot course for J.

Route plotted.

Warp.

Compliance.

Bit of a shame about the Nth Metal. I was looking forward to playing with it a little, but I've got a nasty suspicion that I'm going to have traded it all away before I get back to Earth. That or destroyed it without fully learning how not to handle the notoriously volatile substance. Mister Hol and Ms Thal were probably alright about me having small amounts of the stuff while I was limited to Earth, but I'd imagine that me trying to do anything major with it while on good terms with the Alstair-aligned Thanagarians would raise a few hackles.

Dominators aren't known for using phasing technology… No, probably not worth sacrificing one of the other cutlasses on the off-chance that something is phased in the prison. I'll keep it as a reserve option…

Warp terminating in three, two, one.

J appears in front of me and I plot a course towards the ground and the proto-spaceport that has grown up around Enneret's ship. The locals might find meatfolk disturbing, but the knowledge that there are other plant people out there appears to have kindled-. Probably not a good word to use there. Started, an interest in space travel. And magic. Apparently the local magic forces are much weaker than they are on Alstair, but since mystics like Medphyll do learn how to use it what Enneret showed them wasn't completely beyond their ken. Medphyll himself could get quite a few students out of this if he is prepared to teach them.

"Two Eight One Four to Komand'r. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Her face appears above my ring. "I have no idea. I'm not on J, I'm on Treigst. But unless watching plants grow is something you find entertaining I very much doubt it."

"Oh? What are you up to?"

"Undergoing a thorough medical examination. Are you and our host likely to be departing soon?"

"Hopefully within a few hours. Medphyll will want some time to familiarise himself with Dominator technology. And there's no need to rush back if Koriand'r is still here."

"Then I will not do so."

"I'll let you know when we leave. Two Eight One Four out."

Dropping through the atmosphere I can already see the crowds gathered around the landing area, mostly keeping back behind the barriers the city authorities have assembled. Enneret's been giving a lucky few flights in his ship, though the lack of any way of observing the exterior without magic makes it a slightly disappointing experience for most of them. A few of the rubberneckers below me look up and point but the presence of flying, glowing orange people isn't really a huge deal any more.

My ring blinks.

Answer.

Koriand'r's head appears. "Were you successful?"

"Yep. One giant plant computer ready for delivery. Everything normal here?"

"I have not yet become accustomed to this world's 'normal'. Lantern Medphyll is translating for a meeting of his people's religious leaders and Captain Enneret."

"Is it going well?"

"They appear to simply be exchanging information at this stage, though several have expressed an interest in meeting Queen Hyathis in person." Hm. "Was this your intent? Did you want to bring these two peoples together?"

"Not.. specifically, but I'm glad that it's happening. I don't like stasis."

"It is good to know that the change you bring does not always involve death."

"It's funny. In the sense of being odd. Before the Citadel I'm not sure that I'd killed more than… Maybe two hundred people? And that was mostly.. spread across two pitched battles. More or less pitched battles. I don't particularly like killing people, but it.. doesn't really bother me. Did it bother you? I didn't hear you say anything when we activated the Warden Stations."

"The fleet of the Citadel Empire was a blight upon Vega. That does not trouble me."

"The ones who ran into Amalak's force field? It's been a while since the faces of the dying bothered me, but-."

"I killed my first enemy when the Gordanians came for me and my sister. That did not trouble me, for I knew what they intended. But those who died that day were no threat to you. When you removed the Gordanians from Tamaran you spared many who had killed and enslaved many of my people, and yet you removed them to a new world for them to settle. Why?

I come to a halt in the air. "The Gordanians of the Tearing Bite clan were a community. While they all benefited from Tamaran's suffering, they had internal social mechanisms which could lead to them becoming something else if that opportunity was denied to them. I did not think it right to kill everyone in a group where not everyone was directly involved and not everyone was -by the standards they were used to- particularly bad people. I am loath to kill people who could become something better. However, it is my contention that unmodified Citadelians cannot. They aren't taught anything beyond using weapons or any ideology beyond Citadelian exceptionalism. Combine that with their low intelligence and you get a person who can't reform, not without invasive mind-altering techniques. And if I'm rewriting their brain, then they're not them any longer."

"Should I have dumped them somewhere and let them starve out of sight? Or let them rejoin the Citadelian remnant, so we can fight them again in the future?" I take a breath. "I fully expected most -if not all- to die then and there, and my assessment was correct."

"Aside from those few who were so crushed by what we had done to them that they could not rouse themselves to fight us."

"I found that rather hopeful, actually. It shows that they can learn new behaviours without needing to be programmed with them."

"You could have-."

"Why? Given what the Citadel was, given that in any civilised area of space what they'd done would earn them a death sentence, why should I treat them differently simply because… What, because I'd made use of them?" I start flying in Medphyll's direction again. "Of course, you are free to pursue a different approach to Citadelians you encounter in future and I will wish you good fortune if you decide to do so."

"I will."

"I suggest that you prioritise it, then. I doubt that Komand'r will be as generous. Would you let Medphyll know that I'm coming?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
14:23 GMT

Lantern Medphyll's eye unglazes, blinking twice before focusing on me. The glow from his ring fades away as he lowers his right arm. "You are right. It is somewhat similar in structure to the minds that control our skyscrapers, though far more sophisticated and less… Less creative. I don't believe there was ever an intelligence inside it."

Enneret is still touching it, his leaves twitching oddly. I give him a moment to see if he wants to chip in, but he remains focused on his task. Dominators are reputed to use magic, but according to John's database it's thought to be limited to a handful of high caste types. Medphyll hasn't contradicted that, so this was probably created using conventional technology. Conventional for a people as advanced as the Dominators, at least.

"But the important question is..?"

Lantern Medphyll nods. "I can disrupt similar systems with my ring. I don't know what that will do to the rest of the prison. Since we will be evacuating the entire population life support will not be an issue, but if they are containing any exotic life forms then they may be able to escape the remaining conventional restraints."

"If there are, I imagine that they would be pretty happy about escaping Dominator containment as well. If not, then with a bit of luck we'll be long gone before it can have a serious go at us. Everything else ready?"

"I have a location where I can maroon them until either I.. or my successor, can examine the data on their convictions."

I frown. "Your successor?"

"I doubt that your sophism will have a great deal of sway with the Guardians of Oa. I suspect that I will be called upon to explain myself. We will be going well outside my Sector without due cause. Properly speaking, I should simply refer the matter to the Lanterns assigned to that Sector."

"But they're busy keeping an eye on Colu."

"That is what I have told myself."

I shift a little uncomfortably. "And… what happens if they don't like what they hear? I.. wouldn't want-."

He shakes his head. "Excessive enthusiasm in the prosecution of one's duties is only an exilable offence in cases like Sinestro's. At worse, I would be discharged."

Oh? "I… Do have a giant pile of orange rings burning a hole in my back pocket." His eye narrows. "I'm not trying to get you kicked out. I'm just saying… If they react badly… You've got the skill set I'm looking for."

He looks away, returning his attention to the Controller computer. "I was considering retirement anyway." There's a brief glow from his ring. "According to the Green Lantern Corps database on Human culture, informing you of that fact indicates that we are now doomed."

I shake my head. "No, no it doesn't."

"Lantern Gardner-."

"You're doomed. I'm fine." I pat him on his left shoulder. "Ready to go?"

He takes a moment to look around at the crowds. "I will take the lead in the initial dialogue?"

I nod. "That's what we agreed."

"Then yes." He rises off the ground, environmental shield sparkling green. "Let us liberate your ally."

"To be completely fair-" I take off after him. "-we haven't actually met yet."

He looks down at me as the ground falls away beneath us. "You are willing to take on the Dominion for a single man you have never met?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Because they can and will bring death and ruination to everyone you know and love?"

"Them and.. an awful lot of other people. If I let stuff like that stop me I'd never get anything done." Or end up like Larfleeze. "How have you found working with Komand'r and Koriand'r?"

"Komand'r I find excessively aggressive. Though no more so than many new Green Lantern recruits. What concerns me there is that you appear to have told her that you will grant her far more freedom to act on her own initiative than a Green Lantern would be given."

"I don't believe that strict discipline will prove helpful when training Orange Lanterns. I'm more interested in recruiting people who want to do what I would have them do. Not.. that I mean to imply that I wouldn't keep an eye on them."

"I think that may be best." The atmosphere around us grows thinner and Medphyll's ring glows as he calculates his course. "My Sector has long since been peaceful. Most of the conflict I have seen has been when outsiders travelled here or when I have been called upon to aid other Green Lanterns in their Sectors. If a war like the one which Tamaran experienced came to J, if my people suffered as the people of Tamaran have… I could not be certain that I would not feel as she does."

"I don't think that the you who's lived the life you have would."

"I am uncertain as to whether you mean that as an insult or a compliment."

"Neither. An observation on psychology."

"Are you prepared to commence the journey?"

I shrug and drift closer to him, dialling my environmental shield down to the minimum. Maintaining conversations over long distance warps is a bit of a fiddle. It'll be easiest if one of us pulls the other along and he does have seniority. "I trust you."

He hesitates for a moment, then the space around us bends as he initiates the warp. Ring, match velocities during flight.

Compliance.

"And Koriand'r?"

"Quite capable. If she is representative of her world then it is a shame that no other Tamaranean has ever been called to the Green Lantern Corps."

"One was. Don't know her name. I assume that she was either living outside of Vega or got recruited before the bar came into effect." Thinking about it, if that ban was put in place just after Larfleeze moved in… "Most likely the first one."

"My ring's database indicates that you are mistaken."

"The Guardians erased a lot of entries in the Book of Oa after their attack on Apokolips failed."

"My ring's database has no record of that, either."

"Well… No. It wouldn't, would it?"

"Do you have any evidence, or… I understand that Humans have a tradition called a 'conspiracy theory'?"

"Sure, I can prove it. Do you want to stop off on Apokolips on our way back? They kept trophies."

"As I'm sure that you know, Apokolips is also off-limits to Green Lanterns. Do you have any other evidence?"

"Errr… You might be able to get Raker Qarrigat while he's wearing his ring, if you're very lucky. Maybe… New Genesis would have records of it? I could ask Canis when I go back to Earth."

"I am willing to examine any evidence that you present. Until then, I will remain true to my conviction that the Guardians of the Universe have not lied to everyone for millennia. And I would prefer it if you did not make baseless accusations."

"Noted."

"Warp terminating."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
14:37 GMT

"Multiple weapon locks detected." / "Multiple weapon locks detected."

Well, yes…

I look out across the area covered by Starlag's interdiction fields, seeing next to nothing with my unaided eyes. The area covered by the fields is actually slightly lopsided, with a much greater area of empty space being covered 'in front' of the station while the gas giant it orbits around is largely uncovered. A moment later tiny dots of orange light appear across my visual field, and as I focus my attention on each in turn the ring informs me of what they are.

There are numerous small Dominion gunboats in grey and blue, general purpose craft either manned by low-caste Dominators or simply automated. Some are equipped with gravity clamps and used to pull small asteroids into close proximity to the station. Though it serves almost no economic purpose, working the asteroids keeps the more physical prisoners focused and tired as well as giving the ones they might end up releasing something to keep them motivated.

Mines aren't really supposed to work as an area denial weapon in space. Without air, explosions don't generate meaningful blast waves as they do in an atmosphere. Nonetheless, the Dominators are trying. The sheer number of evenly spaced spherical devices arranged in multiple shells around the station is.. frankly staggering. The minefields are augmented by thousands… No, millions, of force field projectors and detection nets similarly arrayed in spheres around the station. I've spent a little while trying to think of a way to sneak past them and so far I've come up with nothing. Light based invisibility is pointless, they'd detect phasing and based on some of the squiggles I've seen engraved on their exteriors I've got a sneaky suspicion that a Dominator sorcerer has added a little something in case someone tries to bypass them with magic.

I'm still a bit worried about that. An active magic user on site should be able to overpower local wards as long as their creator isn't around to reinforce them…

Further out are the weapon stations. Nothing as clumsy or undiscerning as the Citadel's Warden Stations, they have highly precise and powerful weapons… Which the station they guard is specifically designed to have no defence against. In the event of a prisoner uprising they would simply fire at it until there was nothing left and there would be nothing the prisoners could do about it. The station itself is lightly armed -most weapons are anti-personnel and set to be used against recalcitrant prisoners- but well armoured and shielded. And full of Dominion prison guards commanded by a mid-caste governor, while the high-caste science team do whatever takes their fancy to whomever takes their fancy.

"Multiple weapon locks detected." / "Multiple weapon locks detected."

Medphyll raises his ring in front of him, aiming it in the general direction of Starlag. "This is Green Lantern Medphyll. I wish to speak with the Governor of Starlag."

If I did have to force our way closer… I could probably overpower the spatial stabilisers, at least for a little while. Flying around a little at random should throw off their main guns… Then I… Hm. A long ranged gravity based attack might be able to knock out a weapon station… No, no, they'd call in reinforcements too fast for that approach to be viable. What else? Something… They've designed this station to be capable of resisting Green Lanterns, though not so obviously specifically designing it for that purpose that the Guardians might take umbrage.

What can I do that they won't have seen Green Lanterns doing?

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm trying to work out how to get past their defences if this doesn't work."

"I would appreciate advanced notice if you decide that such an attempt is necessary."

"It would be quite suboptimal. If I thought that I could take the place without you then I would have done so."

"Given the effort which you have put in, I am… Pleasantly surprised how rational you are being."

"For better or worse, pernicious rationality is something of a character trait of mine."

I haven't.. tried using the Honden to bypass spatial distances. Would that work? I try focusing on the desires of the people on board Starlag-.

Medphyll's ring flickers and a Dominator's head appears. They look a little like the Martians from Mars Attacks!, only with very sharp teeth and a red spot in the middle of their foreheads. The size of the red spot corresponds to the importance of their caste. This one… It's hard to get an idea of size from a construct projection, but since the edge of his forehead circle doesn't quite reach an imaginary vertical line drawn up from his tear ducts I'd say that this fellow was mid-caste… And I think the squiggle in the middle indicates local seniority. So, either the garrison commander or the governor.

"Green Lantern. Do you have prisoners for us?"

"No. I am here to investigate reports-."

"You have no authority over this facility. It is Dominion controlled and operated under treaty with many neighbouring stellar civilisations."

"True. So long as you are operating in line with those agreements, and not performing any action which would grant me authority to intervene anyway."

"No such action is taking place."

"I have received reports of invasive biological experimentation being carried out on prisoners who are later reported to have died in accidents or fights. I wish to investigate the truthfulness or otherwise of these reports."

"Hshshshshs." Inasmuch as I can read Dominator facial expression, I'd say that he was decidedly unhappy about being put in this situation. "Who accuses us?"

"That certainly isn't your concern. The substance of the allegations-."

"I would not want you to waste your time investigating slander. We have many enemies who would rejoice at conflict between us and the Green Lantern Corps. Who accuses us?"

"I will not answer that question. The information was received in confidence, and I will treat that confidence with respect. Allow me access to the Starlag facility, and if I find nothing of concern I will ensure that we do not listen to people besmirching your good name out of jealousy again."

The Dominator watches him impassively for a moment, then the construct shuts down.

"Does that mean they're about to shoot?"

"More likely he is simply trying to demonstrate his control of the situation."

"Would the Honour Guard really bother with a place like this, even if they are talking to the Computer Tyrants?"

"Not simply at my request. But Lantern Lee has a reputation for violent thoroughness. I doubt that it would take much effort to persuade him to investigate in force."

"Do the Dominators know who's heading the taskforce?"

"Unlikely. But they are aware that the Guardians dislike them. It would not come as a surprise-."

The projection reappears. "I will tolerate a brief inspection. You will go where we permit and you will be searched before you leave. I will not allow you to interfere with this facility."

"As long as my colleague and I can lawfully comply with that request, we will do so."

"Colleague?"

"Yes." He turns the construct my way. "Green Lanterns often operate in pairs." And his ring transmission won't be able to display my sigil. Interesting. "I had assumed that you were aware-."

"Approach on a direct line. We will be monitoring you."

The head vanishes again.

"How did that go?"

"As well as I could expect. Though they will attempt subterfuge and will almost certainly attack us if we actually find anything."

"Good to know." I hold out my left arm in the direction of Starlag. "After you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
14:43 GMT

Starlag is a T-shaped station, an odd shape for any species advanced enough to have artificial gravity installed. Usually that shape is a result of the need to spin the inhabited areas around a central spoke. Here, it's more or less a huge city in space with a tail. I'm not really in a position to criticise the Dominators for their design decisions since I have no idea what their basis was for choosing this one. I know that high caste Dominators have to undergo some fairly involved purification rituals after having anything to do with aliens, so… Maybe it's something to do with that?

"They want us to enter through airlock seventeen."

I nod as Medphyll peels off. I didn't spend all that much time on the outside of the Citadel before I sent it on its way, but I still had time for a few moments of confusion as my brain tried to work out where 'down' was while I was standing on its surface and looking at the planet below. Starlag is smaller, but approaching it under my own power like this makes it seem larger.

I glance over at the nearest asteroids as I turn to follow Medphyll. We're getting a few looks-. No. He is, and not friendly ones. I spot one reptilian inmate… Rhilosian? Stop working with a force drill while she takes in the sight… And then drop the drill and start shaking as the Okaaran overseeing the inmates spots her slacking off and administers a punishment shock.

"Do Green Lanterns ever bring people here?"

"No. But we do hand criminals over to governments in this region, and many of them send them here. Why do you ask?"

"Post-arrest Lantern Corps policy is something I've been thinking about quite a bit recently. On Earth, people like me do the same thing: hand criminals we apprehend over to the local government and let them handle trial and punishment. I haven't yet been in a position where I was expected to hand someone over for grossly disproportionate punishment or to be punished for something that I didn't think of as being a crime."

"But… I've arrested far more people than I could check up on. Quite a lot of them would have gone to… Prisons not conducive to rehabilitation. And the local Green Lanterns vicariously send people here. Should they? Koriand'r seems to think I should have had somewhere to put the Citadelians I stopped mind controlling. Should we branch out?"

"It's not something I've given much thought to myself. But since you ask-" We fly under a… Antenna, maybe? A spar of some kind in Starlag's superstructure. "-I am inclined to think 'not'. Green Lanterns were never intended to be the be-all and end-all of law enforcement. And we are certainly not meant to subvert principled governance."

"But you're still the people handing people over for the Dominators to dissect."

"We don't know for certain that they do that." The airlock comes into sight, two humanoid robots standing on the outer hull with weapons pointing towards the closer asteroids. "And while I am hesitant to compare the practices of the Green Lantern Corps to what you did on Dryanna, you said yourself that you could have elected to keep them alive."

"Yes. But I'm allowed to kill my enemies."

"Do you think that the rules we are told to follow are the sum total of morality?"

Fair point. "No, of course not."

The robots note our approach, walking slightly further away from the airlock as the outer doors slide open. Medphyll doesn't bother looking at them as he drifts inside.

"If I found myself in a situation where I felt it was necessary to kill an enemy to prevent some great evil, I would do so. Not without hesitation." I fly in behind him and the outer door closes behind me. "I have become too accustomed to resolving conflicts without resorting to lethal measure for that to be true. But I would do so. If it were not necessary-" Gas begins flowing into the chamber. "-then I would prefer to be able to use a prison that would keep most of my prisoners alive rather than slaughter eight hundred of them."

Ring, check the gas?

Seventy six percent nitrogen and twenty percent oxygen, with various other gasses making up the remainder. It is safely breathable.

"You think that I should have brought them here?"

"As opposed to what you did? Yes, this would have been better."

"If I had a prison ready to go I would have put them there. If they had the skills to build a settlement I'd have marooned them like I did the Tearing Bite clan Gordanians."

"But you knew of this place. Its existence is the very reason why you came to me for aid."

"I don't believe in bunting. What's the point in putting a group of violent brutes in storage?"

"What is the point on your homeworld?"

"As I said, rehabilitation. Then punishment, public protection. Perhaps a consideration to the fact that they might turn out to have been wrongly convicted. Does Starlag rehabilitate?"

"I would give it better odds than shooting them all."

"Really? We're talking about a cloned and mentally programmed race-." It's not the same as Kon. He switched sides after a short conversation! "Programmed to be simpleminded warriors, not programmed to be anything else." There's a chime as pressure equalises. "I knew what they were and what they'd done with near one hundred percent accuracy from their own records. What I did was give them one last chance to prove that I didn't need to kill them all."

"Vega is a far more violent place than my own Sector. What you did was more generous than most local groups would have done."

"True, I suppose."

The inner door slams open and he walks through. "That is a very low standard by which to judge yourself."

"I'd like to see you do better."

Our welcoming party consists of two low caste Dominators armed with wrist-mounted particle projectors and wearing armour and face-covering helmets, one mid-caste administrator (not the governor) and a heavily armoured Okaaran with a shock-cudgel. I hadn't really appreciated how many Okaarans found themselves working in places like this. Or maybe she's a trustee? No, that doesn't sound likely.

"Guests." The administrator holds his hands at his chest, palms up and fingers pointing towards us. Polite ritual greeting. Not a happy greeting; if it were he'd be standing closer. "I am to escort you to the governor. Remain with us. Do not speak to anyone without permission or scan anywhere without permission."

"Is the governor busy?"

His eyes move to Medphyll and rest there for a moment before returning to me. "He is willing to speak with you. Consider yourselves privileged."

"It just occurred to me that it would have been faster for us to have come in closer to the command level. Or he could have come down here."

"This area is.. impure. I will require cleansing later. For someone of the governor's position it would be… Inappropriate."

Medphyll nods. "We will accompany you."

The Okaaran turns away, stomping across the room towards the inner door. She waves her right hand over the sensor, which chimes and opens the door. It's big enough for her to pass comfortably through, perhaps an effort to allow the prison to cope with inmates of a wide variety of sizes. I.. wait for a moment for the Dominators to follow.

They don't move. The administrator's eyes move from us to the open door and then back again. Medphyll and I look at each other. I suppose..? We're supposed to go next?

Medphyll starts towards the door and a small amount of tension appears to leave the administrator. I shrug and follow him, the two soldiers and the administrator then following in strict order.

Now. Do I think they can detect empathic vision?

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
14:51 GMT

If they can, no one's saying anything.

As prisons go, this one isn't much worse than Belle Reve. The areas we've seen are clean and well put together, though the shiny pale blue-grey would probably irritate my eyes if my ring didn't come with built-in shades. The prisoner areas we've seen so far have exercise equipment and terminals which I presume are for education or entertainment. Monitoring equipment is reasonably unobtrusive and there are force field protected balconies for the guards.

We haven't encountered any prisoners so far, and while I initially suspected that was due to the time of day a quick flash of empathic vision showed that not to be the case. While empathic vision doesn't let me tell guard from inmate with complete reliability, watching flashes of yellow as one group of people are herded out of the corridors and rooms ahead of us does make it somewhat obvious that they're attempting some sort of deceit.

Interestingly, sounds don't appear to travel through the walls at all. If I wasn't seeing what I'm seeing, I might think that there was nothing amiss. I try not to look behind me too much to see what happens when we've passed through an area. That might make it a bit obvious that I'm up to something.

The Okaaran ahead of us comes to a halt again, and a blink shows me a handful of people being shoved down a side passage. Medphyll turns around and takes a step towards the administrator. The administrator's bodyguard don't quite raise their weapons, but their arms definitely tense slightly.

"Is there a reason for these delays? We could have flown to one of the upper airlocks by now."

"Security procedures require entry through lower airlocks."

"Why?"

The administrator blinks. "That is the established procedure."

I'm not sure how Dominators reproduce, but it seems that they've got a knack for cultural indoctrination. I'm not seeing any desires not related to his role and the efficient performance of it. And a bubbling aversion to aliens. Makes sense, really. If they didn't keep themselves separate and have a built-in reason to keep away from aliens at least some Dominators might start to see them as people. As it is, no one likes needing to perform a lot of rituals that get in the way of their main job, they associate those rituals with aliens… The whole thing reinforces itself. That might explain the Okaarans as well: they don't have to perform rituals and so can handle most of the face to face contact with the prisoners.

The door in front of us slams open, the hallway empty-. The floor's damp. They moved the cleaners out. The Okaaran starts walking again, while Medphyll gives up on his mutual-incomprehension-stare-off with the administrator and starts onwards once more. Okay, clearly they're trying to stage manage the visit and almost certainly restrict our access to prisoners. I'm pretty sure that Medphyll will back me, having come this far. The Dominators have breached what the Guardians consider 'acceptable malfeasance' by dealing with the Computer Tyrants. There might be a… Difficult few moments where he's trying to wreck their computers and they're trying to decide whether or not to fire into their own prison to stop us, but that's the nature of the beast.

The end of the corridor opens onto a small chamber with another two Dominator guards on duty in front of a decorated doorway. The Okaaran leading the way peels off before that, resulting in Medphyll and myself leading the procession. We both hesitate for a moment but apparently that was supposed to happen. Looking at the floor again, I see a band comprised of two golden lines with… The ring isn't translating it so the golden symbols between them must be purely decorative. This is the first time that I've seen it. A boundary marker for the edge of Dominator territory? Might explain why they're using Okaarans instead of other mercenaries. Okaarans have discipline. People like the Khundians would constantly push a limit like that.

"Please head for the elevator. I will accompany you to the governor."

Medphyll and I proceed as instructed. Behind us, our escort peel off and take up position on this side of the corridor exit while the administrator follows us. The door slides open with a good deal less violence than the ones to which the prisoners have access, revealing a small octagonal elevator illuminated in pink-red lights. Dominators do see further into the red part of the spectrum than Humans. I suppose this is the lighting scheme that would be most comfortable for them. Medphyll enters first, walking to the rear of the elevator and then turning to face the door.

"When you meet with the governor, there are protocols to observe." The administrator walks in and doesn't react either as the door closes or as the elevator very gently thrums into motion. "You are not to touch him under any circumstances."

"I'll try to restrain my base animal lusts."

"Yes. Do so. Also, do not pass objects directly to the governor. Do not refer to him by any sort of pseudonym, up to and including 'hey, you'."

"Is that something people actually do?"

"Violent criminals are not known for their grasp of appropriate socialisation." That's.. a reasonable point. "While we do not experiment upon them, we do have a variety of licensed punishments which we administer to the recalcitrant."

"I assume that these rules will also apply to any high caste Dominators we meet?"

The administrator's jaw flexes slightly. He's.. disturbed..? By the suggestion?

"You will not meet high caste Dominators."

"Really? If we're investigating possible prisoner abuses, do you really think that we won't want to talk to the most likely culprits?"

"If they had performed these acts, would you expect them to admit it to you?"

"Probably not, but-."

"And if they denied it?"

Huh. With Humans -or most other races- I could analyse body language or patterns of brain activity to try and work out whether or not they were lying. With Dominators, the structure of their faces and minds is such that unless they were choosing to signal to me I would be unlikely to get anything. As such, without any physical evidence (beyond the small amounts taken from inconsistencies in the occasional official investigations) there actually isn't much reason for me to speak to them.

Medphyll nods. "It is unlikely that we will need to speak with them. However, I cannot rule it out at this point in our investigation. If they have had contact with the prisoners, we may want to speak with them to give them the chance to contradict the prisoners' falsehoods."

The administrator looks mildly blank for a moment. "If it is.. essential…" He sounds so uncomfortable with the idea that it's almost amusing. "Messages may be relayed to them."

He turns away from us, and for a moment I think that he's trying to force us to stop talking about it. Then the vibrations stop and the door opens out onto a chamber nearly identical to the one below. A couple of Dominators in robes nearly identical to our administrator walks past us, their eyes briefly passing over us. It's fascinating exactly how dim the emotional lights within them are. There's a basic green structure with a few.. pools of red. But that's about it. The other colours are there, but they're translucent and ephemeral. Even making a bit of an effort I can't clearly see what they contain or what associations they have.

That's… Really odd.

Add.. 'study Dominator reproduction and indoctrination' to the slate, I suppose.

"Follow me." The administrator starts down a corridor in the direction the other two came from. "Do not fall behind, even accidentally."

He leads us to the end of the corridor, the door opening as we reach it. The bridge of Starlag is hexagonal, rising from the edges of the room towards a raised area in the centre. A Dominator I recognise as the governor sits in the centre, surrounded by glowing holoscreens. Further out there are another three stations, each of which is manned by other Dominators with red spots slightly smaller than his.

The administrator walks directly towards the central position, stopping-. There's another line on the floor. He doesn't have a big enough circle to cross it. He kneels in the direction of the governor's dais.

And we wait.

A few moments later the governor turns his chair in the administrator's direction. He doesn't say anything.

"Superior, I have brought the Lanterns into your presence."

"Inferior. I will deal with them. Return to your duties."

"I obey."

He gets up and leaves the bridge without backwards glance, while the governor rises from his seat and walks towards us. "Lanterns. I have assembled a cross section of prisoners for you to interview. I assure you that you will not find anything to substantiate any accusations."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
16:29 GMT

Oh, won't we now?

Our current interviewee is a Quahoogan man by the name of Biist. He's due for release in a little under a month and has absolutely no reason to give his captors any difficulty about certain people who aren't on his cell block any longer. His face is shaped a little like that of a Turian, but flattened. Tough looking spines jut out from the back of his prison issue black-with-blue-stripes jumpsuit.

Which is actually pretty stylish. Though given that Dominators have trouble seeing blue… Ring, infrared?

Compliance.

Oh.

That's some fairly impolite writing. Ring, back to normal vision.

Compliance.

"…not a holiday camp or anything, but…" His throat pouch swells for a moment before deflating again. Resigned acceptance. "It's prison."

Medphyll nods. "You haven't heard or seen anything that would give you reason to believe that the accusations are true?"

"People.. leave… People come. Some new guys pick fights and sometimes the guards kill them to stop them. Not often, but it happens. Experiments?" His eye ridges flex. A head shake. "No. Haven't seen anything like that. I mean, even if they were, how would I know?"

"Do you think they are?"

"I heard all kinds of creepy things about them before getting sent here." Another flex. "It's just a prison. Pretty well run, all things considered." He looks Medphyll in the face, then his eyes switch to me for a moment. "There.. anything else?"

I activate a holographic display. "Do you recognise this man?"

I know full well that he does. Quite aside from the fact that I can clearly see his face picked out in yellow in this man's soul, Dominator records state that he was two cells down from our interviewee for most of his stay here.

The pulses in our subject's neck get faster. "Reshulp? Yeah, I… I knew him. What's… I mean, what's that got to do with anything?"

"Do you remember the last time you saw him?"

"Ah… No? I know he's not here any more, but… Morning exercise, maybe? Must have been a couple of years ago. I thought he got released."

I lean slightly closer. "Did you really?"

"Yeah?"

I step back, nodding. "An easy mistake to make. No, he was killed trying to escape through the inner force fields under his own power."

"Oh. Yeah, that… That happens sometimes. The guards find it funny."

No follow up. No 'if you know what happened, why ask me?'.

"Dominators find something funny?"

"No, not the… Not the Dominators. The other guards, the Okaarans."

I nod. "Unfortunately, the injuries on those parts of his body which were returned to the state in which he was arrested don't match those of someone killed in that way."

"I'd never seen his species before..? So… Maybe they just die differently or something?"

I nod again. "I suppose that's possible." I turn to Medphyll. "That's me done. Anything you want to ask?"

Medphyll leans forward across the table. "Do you feel that -having spent time here- you are less likely to continue the criminal activity that led you to be sent here?"

"Huh? Oh, ah, yeah. Totally. Learned my lesson. Straight and narrow from now on."

Medphyll smiles. "I'm glad to hear it." He rises from his chair. "Governor, I believe that we are finished with Mister Biist."

The door we entered through reopens, while the metal clamps attaching Mister Biist to the table by his arms remain in place. Medphyll leads the way out to where the governor is waiting. The gold bordering is present again, this time wrapping around the interrogation chamber. I have my suspicions, but the room was fully cleansed before Mister Biist was placed in there so I couldn't detect any biological matter.

Medphyll nods to the governor as I -apparently accidentally- brush against him. I might not be able to transmit messages to green power rings, but I can send a filament through his environmental shield and manually vibrate his ear drum. And I feel the slight pressure as he does the same.

It seemed to me that he was afraid.

"He said nothing to substantiate the allegations."

I assume that you saw something of note?

The governor makes a gesture, tapping his fingers against his palms. "I am pleased that he has learned honesty during his time here. Do you wish to speak with any further prisoners?"

He saw a Dominator with a large red spot on his forehead accompany the guards who removed Reshulp. Dominators don't normally enter the prisoner areas themselves, and I haven't seen a high caste Dominator since we got here. They should be even more reluctant than the others to enter prisoner areas.

"No, I think that we have a reasonable overview. If you could show us your medical facilities, we will have seen enough to conclude our investigation in your favour."

That isn't proof.

We were never going to find a blood-covered scalpel, Medphyll. High caste Dominators are virtually all scientists. The fact that they're even on a prison is extremely suspicious.

"Certainly. You will find that the prisoner medical ward is the finest in any prison in this Sector."

"I am sure that you are right. I was referring to the Dominator medical chambers." The governor pulls his neck in slightly. Dismay. "If the accusations were true I doubt very much that any studies would have been performed in the prisoner medical ward. Unless you have it equipped for research as well?"

I could try using my plant manipulation abilities to read their records. Once we're closer.

"We.. do not. I will make the request to the high ones. I cannot order them to aid you, but they may decide to in the interests of good working relations."

You were able to infect Mister Biist with the smart algae?

I'd rather you didn't put it like that, but yes.

"We will be quite happy to await their convenience, of course."

"Remain here." The governor turns, heading in the direction of the command centre.

"Thank you."

Have you given much though to what we do if Vril Dox the Second is not here but experiments are taking place?

Wreck the place, evacuate the inmates and.. let the Guardians deal with any surviving Dominators? I'll want any information which could assist me in locating him, but other than that I'd be happy to follow your lead.

I am glad that you said that. Compelling you would have been awkward.

He breaks contact, walking after the governor.

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
17:02 GMT

The Dominator medical facilities are extensive, far more than would ordinarily be required for a garrison of this size. Even one that was trying to prepare itself for the possibility of an armed prisoner revolt. The general layout reminds me of what Tront had on Hny'xx. Efficient. Tidy. Clean.

Suspicious.

Medphyll raises his ring to scan one of the devices, a medium sized tank with complex computer systems attached. "An ultra definition flesh lathe?"

The governor hasn't been entirely at ease since we got here. I don't think he needs to worry about his superiors, though. They've been about five decks down since they received his request. He also doesn't need to worry about us detecting any residue. It was painfully apparent to me that the whole place has been aggressively sterilised. I don't even think they did this for us. I think that Dominator ritual purity just requires it as the default.

"I am not a physician."

"I am a little surprised to find one in a prison medical facility."

"It is not my place to question the high caste's decisions. In the event that I am so injured as to require it, I will be grateful."

Inasmuch as I can read him, I think he's being honest. While ultra definition flesh lathes can be used medicinally, they only really make sense for reconstructing a portion of someone's brain, and that's only if you have an ultra definition scan to base it on. Otherwise, more mundane, cheaper and more reliable techniques are used instead just about everywhere. Flesh knitted together by a lathe doesn't have the sort of automatic correction as 'naturally grown' tissue. Lathes usually have quite a high error rate, which isn't much help if someone is waiting for a transplant. I suppose… If someone was willing to throw money at a place, having a hundred or so of them working on the same thing would guarantee getting a useable component… But this lab only has one.

Which means that it's almost certainly being used for destructive analysis. Taking things apart and recording exactly what went where. There have been enough notable cases of the leaders of crime syndicates using them to dissect failed rivals that a lot of civilised worlds restrict their sale and use. Similarly, all of this analytical equipment has legitimate uses. In a major research hospital or university that dealt with dangerous diseases afflicting hundreds of species. Seeing it in a facility attached to a prison…

Still no smoking gun. Or bloody scalpel. Still, there are a few other things for us to try.

I've spent not a little time trying to work out what the best way to convince Vril Dox II to go along with my idea might be. I know that after breaking out in the comics he started the Licensed Extra-Governmental Interstellar Operatives Network, and I think I remember him being involved in removing the Computer Tyrants afterwards. I know that he hates his father with a fiery passion he displays in no other aspect of his life. So I've been assuming that offering him the resources he needs in order to make those things easier would be sufficient. But the core aspect is the revenge against his father for lowering his intelligence and treating him as a lab rat.

"What's down this way?"

I point to a corridor leading off the main laboratory towards the outer hull.

"A store room and an analytics computer. You are welcome to examine it if you wish."

I nod and amble off down the indicated corridor. The Dominators might not have standard humanoid body language, but I'd be a fool to think that they haven't learned to interpret it. I don't particularly want him to call in a squad of soldiers before we actually get anything concrete.

Oh, listen to the man who dropped the Citadel Complex on a cloning factory being all diplomatic.

The door on my right opens, revealing a computer system different to but recognisable as being related to the ones now being examined by the inhabitants of J. There are comfortable seats, work stations and a holotank for the high caste Dominators who work in here.

And there's a glowing orange shape filled with dying robots on the other side of that wall.

I wave my ring around the room, scanning for any other incongruities. Nothing. I hold out my right hand and generate a model of Starlag, blowing up the area I'm standing in… No, this should be the last room before the hull. And this image is generated based on my own observations, not on the 'official' schematics. I didn't see anyone stuck outside of the station either.

Curious.

I turn my head towards the door. "Lantern Medphyll! Governor! Do you have a moment?!"

Medphyll flies around the corner, not at an unseemly speed but with reasonable haste. "Have you found something?"

"I believe that I've found what I'm looking for."

He takes a moment to look around the room. "Where?"

I shake my head. "Use your… Exotic detection."

His ring shimmers for a moment, and he looks in the direction I was looking in a moment ago. "I see. You're certain?"

"No, but the balance of probability-" The governor walks into the room at a sedate pace. "-is in my favour. Governor, what's through that wall?"

He raises his right arm and presses a button on his wrist-mounted personal computer with his left forefinger. "The wall itself has numerous protective layers. Some wiring. Then the external armour layer. The original plan incorporated a weapon module at that location, but that was not included when this station was assigned for use as a prison."

"Are there any work crews outside there at the moment?"

Another button press. "No."

"I see." Orange filaments launch from my body and latch themselves to the wall in an oval. "So if I ripped a hole through here..?"

"You would be forcibly ejected from this prison. The prison would be unharmed as the hull is designed to withstand such damage."

I shift the end of the filaments into crumbler constructs. "Good-oh."

An oval of the wall dissolves, the centre section collapsing inwards a moment later. And through the gap…

Another room.

A man sits in a chair, naked but for the machinery I assume is designed to deal with his waste products and the cybernetic.. thing attached to his head. His skin is Coluan green while what I can see of his head is shaved bare. Wires from the cybernetic headpiece are collected into a single cable which runs into the floor, and from there my ring is now telling me they connect into the data analysis engine in the room with us.

"I was unaware of that."

Medphyll walks into the newly revealed room, visibly scanning the man with his ring. "Coluan. Locked in some sort of mental interface device." He turns back to the governor. "Explain his presence."

"Perhaps the high caste are.. working on some project with this.. volunteer. I will-."

"You are aware that the planet Colu recently underwent a violent change of government?"

"It is not the Dominion's concern which alien rules over their civilisations."

"Perhaps." Hah. "But it is the Guardians', and you know full well that they have ordered Colu isolated. If you have had any dealings with them then you have violated that order. An Honour Guard taskforce is already being prepared. It can easily stop here first on its way to Colu."

The governor regards Medphyll levelly for a moment, then taps a device on his right wrist with his left hand.

Teleportation detected.

Could jam it -the governor dissolves into a series of shimmering dots- but killing him could be an escalation and this might end up coming before the Guardians for judgement.

The moment passes and he disappears completely. Medphyll and I turn to look at one another.

"You free him and I will disrupt the computers." / "I'll free him, you disrupt the computers."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
17:06 GMT

I bring my heavy armour out of subspace and generate construct armour around myself as I step up to Mister Dox and start scanning. "Though if you should happen to see an 'eject' button-."

"My control is nothing like that precise."

Ultrafine wires pierce his skull in a hundred-

Two hundred and fifty six.

-places, thank you, and interface with various parts of his brain. My relief that they didn't just extract his brain and stick it in a tank or something is tempered by the realisation that I'm really not sure what to do here. I have good data on general Coluan physiology, courtesy of Ms Gozzi. I know what bits the Dominators have plugged their machine into. I also have dozens of types of mental interface technology on file. What I don't have is anything on this specific set up. While -in theory- cutting the link between the intrusion filaments and the main system as a first step and removing the filaments as the second is a sound plan, I don't have any way to know exactly what I'm doing where brain repairs are concerned.

And Dox's brain is kind of the point of him.

Okay, ring, interface with the device and monitor for unusual activity. I don't want a kill switch being activated.

Compliance. Warning: this ring is uncertain that it could identify such a signal.

Just do your best.

Right. Nothing… Obviously kill switchy. No implanted explosives or anything like that. Of course, there's nothing special about computers made of soggy sacks of meat that makes them immune to data infections-.

Partially visible waves of green light radiate out from Medphyll's ring. As I study the points where the brain interface connects with Dox's neurons there's a slight change in the background noises of the station. The lights don't go off and the artificial gravity keeps working, but something just stopped. I guess their sonic masking wasn't covering everything.

Hm. This isn't going to require a huge amount of power, so…

"Jamming teleportation."

"Unnecessary. This station is designed to be hostile to teleportation. They can recall their staff but nothing more. Otherwise an attacker would be able to do the same. And with their main computers down I doubt that they'll risk it."

"All the same…"

Okay, I… I don't know how his brain encodes data but I do know what physical damage looks like and I can repair it-.

Hang on. That.. part appears to be hijacking his sense of touch. It's actually.. relatively simply to tell which filament is subverting what. Between myself, Medphyll and Dox the most intelligent of us is Dox by a mile. He also almost certainly knows more about his own physiology than I do. So I could tweak his nerves in a code I'm confident he could understand. And if he focused his desires in just the right way he could give me feedback without breaking out…

"Based on standard response times, I imagine that the Okaarans will be here shortly."

"I can fight and fix at the same time. Any idea how easy it is for the Dominators to undo what you're doing to their computers?"

"It should be impossible. At least, without one of their sorcerers being physically present."

I nod, sending Praexis Demons… And the Ophidian's Saremite… Out through the corridor, spreading out across this level. We're cutting the high caste Dominators off from the rest of their forces, though I'll need to send Construct Lanterns outside to completely cut them off. Doors appear to have lost power, though the Praexis can still eat through them, given time. The way they do so involves them protruding their stomachs Starfish-style out through their mouths, but at this point I'm rather hardened to that sort of thing. I feel a momentary flash of dislocation as one cluster encounters an Okaaran strike team, the leading Okaaran smashing through the Praexis Demons with his maul.

My eyes move briefly to Medphyll, then I mentally order the horde not to kill anyone.

A tiny film of orange light takes hold of the filaments lying to Dox about what his left forearm is feeling and slowly consumes them, making sure to repair anything that might strictly be regarded as damage as it does so. Nothing like one hundred percent, but the best I can manage. Done? I try tapping his arm a couple of times and get the response from his brain that I would expect. A few odd flares in other places… He shouldn't be experiencing anything more than slight numbness. If he's even noticing it.

Alright, start tapping. There simply aren't enough nerve endings in that part of his body to use some of the more sophisticated Coluan coding systems… I'm going to have to limit myself to six points of contact. Not a problem. Ms Gozzi was quite clear that any Coluan can process data at a rate that makes the rest of us look simpleminded. Go fast. Basic biographic information. Ugh, there are more than a few filaments going into his long term memory. He might not even know who he is at the moment. Can't be helped. Explain the situation, state where we are and who we are… Lanterns, don't specify colour. He probably hasn't heard of Sinestro and so assumes that green is the only colour there is. Describe the nature of the interface. Request that he form a clear emotional reaction-. No, specifically, ask him to desire a particular resolution.

Send.

Compliance.

The Praexis Demons are pushing the Okaarans back. The first response team were led by guards with heavy duty energy shields, but the rest just have regular shielding and mauls. Good against prisoners or even most professional soldiers. Barely adequate against Lanterns. The Praexis Demons are sucking the power out of their equipment with a fury, being destroyed and reforming as the push stumbles and fails. The Saremite… I don't have the same precision of feedback. I think he's obeying my instruction and cutting off the high caste…

There's a minor change in the patterns of activity in Dox's brain. Ah… Not sure what it means. A minor twitch towards fear, coupled with flashes of images from what I assume to be his childhood. This sort of setup isn't entirely new to him. Oh, thanks, it looks like he's more afraid of bungling surgeons than he is of being held prisoner. Well if you'd like to give me some direction-.

Communicated.

No, don't-. Okay, okay, explain… Complete precision but an incomplete understanding of the technology. I can probably pull it all out and fix the obvious damage. I don't have the ability to override the computer…

I take a moment to check the analysis engine. No, not alive enough for assimilation.

But if he can clearly want me to do something in particular, I'll do that instead.

In the corridors the Okaarans are pulling back, missing most of their equipment. In the distance I can see the dull tones of a group of Dominators. Soldiers, presumably.

A shift in Dox's emotional state. Come on, come on, some sort of clear… Alright, the image shows… Sleep? Unconsciousness? Okay, then… An image of a glowing sword cutting a thick cable. Then an image of a hose being yanked out and the site of the puncture being clamped. Sleep, cutting, yanking. The desire pulses repeat and float around one another.

Okay. Can do.

As far as sleep is concerned, Coluan brains work the same as those of other humanoids. A slight change in chemistry… Okay, and I think he's working on that himself. Some sort of meditative technique to change his brainwave patterns. Right, he's out. Next, take a very strong grip on the cables at both ends and take out an x-ionised knife.

Don't pray to Eris because that sort of thing never works out well.

Cut.

The filaments in his brain immediately go dead. Can't.. see anything that looks obviously like a kill switch activation. This part of the system doesn't have its own power supply… Right, start removing them. Long term memory first, knitting back the miniscule holes in his grey matter as I go. Then his sensory-.

My Praexis Demons get a momentary clear view of two advancing Dominator soldiers, then the feed cuts out.

I can't feel them any more and they're not emerging from my ring.

Work faster.

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
17:09 GMT

The last few filaments evaporate, and I turn to look at Medphyll. "Good news, Dox is out of the machine and in reasonable health. Bad news, Dominator soldiers are heading this way with anti-construct guns."

"I have been considering the device that was holding him."

I give Mister Dox another once-over. There are tiny, well healed scars across most of his body and.. slight damage to the nerves of his right hand. Assuming that my memories of his comic history are accurate on the subject of his upbringing, they're the residue of a childhood as a test subject. Certainly, none of them are recent and so the Dominators probably aren't to blame. Signs of exhaustion, but nothing obviously dangerous… "Is that important?"

"The treaties which the Dominators signed with the worlds in this Sector do not permit this sort of experimentation. Nor do they allow them to have dealings with the Computer Tyrants. I have taken the liberty of passing that information on to this Sector's Green Lanterns."

"And that helps us how?"

Another trio of Praexis demons vanish. I redirect the rest to home in on the high castes, with just a few keeping an eye on the oncoming soldiers.

"The Honour Guard taskforce is heading here now. Regardless of what happens to us, the Dominators will no longer have a facility here tomorrow."

"I'll say it again: and that helps-?"

"Any Dominator still here when they arrive will be placed in the Sciencells, either permanently or to eventually be returned to their people in exchange for political concessions. The Dominators know this. They also know that since I ruined their computers anything the high caste have learned exists only in their minds. And should they fall into the Guardians' hands that knowledge will certainly be stripped from them."

"I didn't think the Guardians were telepathic."

"At their level of skill with the green light, I doubt that their natural abilities matter."

A Praexis Demon dodges several red bolts… Nothing about them on file.

"So, what? We-."

"Grab the high caste…" Vril Dox pushes himself into a sitting position. "And you can negotiate your escape."

"Are you alri-?"

He winces. "The answer to that question would not change whether you asked it or not. Please do not waste my concentr-."

"My data on Coluan physiology is not perfect. Are you aware of anything about your body that isn't-."

"Nothing of particular note." He looks around. "Have you located the high caste?"

"Yes, but I can't phase through their walls or teleport, and shooting-."

"What force are they sending?"

"At least twelve Dominator guards with construct-."

"Do you have any non-construct-based weapons?" I take a cold gun out of subspace and hold it out to him. He frowns very slightly at me. "I am in no mental condition to take part in a firefight." I shrug and take it back. "Will it kill Dominator soldiers?"

"Should do."

"Have you tested it against them?"

"No."

He switches his attention to Medphyll. "How long until the other Green Lanterns arrive?"

"Seven minutes to reach the outer defences. I don't know what proportion still function at anything like full effectiveness, so perhaps-."

"The minefields and shield generators won't be affected by their central computer being off-line, and their emplaced weapons will still be capable of firing. Cut through the deck in the direction of the high caste."

"I'm so-?"

"Do I really have to explain-? You want to survive with as many Dominators in custody as possible. The best way to achieve that is to capture the high caste as fast as possible. The Dominators will attempt to evacuate them, then kill you. They know that you will have-."

I generate a railgun construct, load crumblers-.

"A simple railgun won't work. You need-."

I aim at the floor and fire, a hole about forty centimetres across appearing in the deck. Sadly the crumble effect falls off rather substantially ten centimetres down. Coverage from the Praexis is getting patchy. The majority of soldiers appear to be avoiding us, but four are cautiously heading our way. Praexis Demons heading for the high caste are being intercepted by force fields…

"Disassembler rounds?"

"Sort of. Medphyll, shie-."

A flicker of motion as a small grey thing flies into the corridor just outside our room. Medphyll throws out a blast of green light, smashing it against the far wall. He then takes a pouch from his utility harness and throws the faintly green contents into the air before blowing them out of the room with a construct fan. "I will watch our backs."

I form more railguns and load more crumblers. Ring, calculate optimal firing pattern, update as more data is gained.

Compliance.

Fire.

These aren't exactly high-powered constructs. Heck, that was why I started using railguns in the first place: so that I could fight at high effectiveness with lower construct strength. Using the larger sort of crumbler round with shots timed and spaced and the crumbler fields trained for low width high penetration, it takes twelve shots to blast a hole through the three armoured layers on this side, another three to get through the inner workings and a further twelve to get through the three armoured layers of the ceiling of the level beneath.

Medphyll deploys a point defence construct in response to more drones, thin lines of green piercing them before they can close the distance and do whatever they're supposed to do to us. I suspect that the infantry are advancing but I've lost the remaining Praexis Demons in that area.

No need to physically move down to the next level, so I keep firing. Ah, good, the Praexis have closed off an egress point. The high caste are moving… Another layer penetrated. Internal monitoring should be down and most of my Praexis Demons are well ahead of the Dominator soldiers. How do they know? Personal sensors of some kind? They're familiar with Green Lanterns. Did they think that some sort of a raid was sufficiently probable that it was worth preparing defences against?

Another floor gone. It's hard to get precise distance, but I think that they're another four down.

Flashes of red from the doorway as I alter my angle, shooting a hole into the next floor.

"I assume that we can't just transition around?"

"If it were that simple then I would have recommended it already."

"Mister Dox." Another hole made. "We need to-"

A Dominator soldier steps into the doorway, shots from Medphyll's defence construct being neutralised by a red energy field which flares to life around his body when one hits. He raises his arm-mounted gun.

"-g-!"

There's a thump as Dox lands one level down and starts for the next hole, Medphyll hot on his heels.

Then the Dominator shoots me.

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
17:12 GMT

Time slows.

Much like what I tried to do to Nabu, draining a construct of energy entirely will destroy it. That might be how these things killed the Praexis Demons; there just wasn't enough of them to return to the ring.

I keep firing at the floor, smashing my way through another level of the station.

A construct barrier starts to form between myself and the Dominator soldier. It… Yes, it's just about going to coalesce before the bolt of red light hits me. Now, these weapons dropped Medphyll's barrier handily enough but didn't drain his ring at the same time. Or affect his environmental shield. That suggests that it destroys one construct at a time, in the same way that my crumblers do.

Weapon constructs begin appearing alongside me, a cold gun and a railgun.

Dox stumbles for a moment, then sidesteps Medphyll's attempt to support him.

The red bolt howowow!

The construct barrier fails, fading for a fraction of a second before vanishing entirely. Unlike with crumbler rounds, what's left of the bolt keeps going and hits my ablative construct armour. Two layers fail before the bolt vanishes entirely.

And the whole process really hurts!

That's logical, I suppose. I mean, I've got no idea how that mechanism works but intense pain would probably disrupt Green Lantern concentration and therefore their ability to fight effectively. All it does to me is encourage me to dismiss lower lethality options completely.

I start moving to the side as the second bolt gets closer and my railguns fire the shots that will burrow through the next floor when they hit. The red bolt heading my way is currently resisting my ring's attempts to analyse it, which makes a degree of sense. I mean, I've got its thermal and electromagnetic output recorded (it's only weakly interacting with dust and air molecules so it isn't plasma) but I've got no real idea about how it actually works. Or whether my armour can take it.

The second bolt hits, though since I know to turn down my pain response it hurts a good deal less. I think the Dominator soldier is aiming for my centre of mass rather than any particular part of my body. Certainly the shots are going nowhere near the filaments connected to the tunnelling railguns. And I know that he's a dick but I do need to do something nice for Mister Tuttle, these things are insanely useful. My outer ablative layers fail over the left side of my armour's abdomen and I really don't want to try taking more hits there.

Mental pathway damage limit reached. Acceleration discontinued.

Fortunately I don't have to.

The railgun fires, targeting the Dominator's centre of mass.

The cold gun fires, aiming a little lower.

I fly sideways at speed, the third red bolt narrowly missing my armour as the Dominator comes further into the room and a second one comes through the doorway behind him.

The crumbler round hits home as I keep flying, causing his personal shield to flare and undulate. Holding but weakened. The cold beam has rather more effect, making the shield -some sort of plasma shell?- visibly fail, though the armour appears to be thermally insulated enough that the cold effect doesn't kill the wearer immediately. However, I can see hoarfrost appear on the outer surface and the Dominator wearing it stumbles. The next crumbler round strikes his breastplate unobstructed, releasing energy in the fashion I've become accustomed to as the crumble field interacts destructively with whatever super advanced material that armour is made from.

And with the flesh beneath.

The Dominator falls as the second charges into the room. I take a hit to my right shoulder as I retrain the guns, aiming the cold gun-.

I fall to the ground as a wave of red energy passes through the room. Constructs failed, armour still functional. My legs thump heavily on the deck as I trigger automatic targeting, my right arm coming up and firing the manual cold gun at the Dominator's head. A red bolt hits my faceplate at the same time-. Something about my kinetic barrier causes it to fail to do very much. Good to know, I'll give spares to Medphyll and Dox when I have a moment. The cold beam strikes home, collapsing his shield and making the soldier fall to the ground. Colours… Not disappearing. I take a moment to fire crumblers at both of their guns and then use the armour's built-in flight systems to head down the hole.

I land heavily-

"Keep firing!"

-on the deck and immediately get heckled. Ring, status?

This ring is undamaged. Power reserves currently at seventy three percent.

Bit.. much for a couple of guns and construct armour. I'll have to keep an eye on that. I generate two new railgun constructs and point them down the next hole, while flicking the cold gun in my hand over to 'cold zone generation'. One shot back into the room above me, one at the hole and one at each end of the corridor. Given how good their armour's insulation appeared to be I'm not sure that will actually harm the Dominator infantry, but hopefully it will slow them down. Shoving the construct railguns further forward I amble over to the next hole and step down, landing with a slight flare of my kinetic barrier.

What are the Praexis Demons up to? Okay, yes, heading in the right general direction-. I feel several blink out in the direction… Yes, most likely Dominator soldiers attempting-.

"This would be faster if you joined in."

"Railgun-fired super projectiles are not standard issue."

"Then at least-."

"I am attempting to gain better access to their computers. Splitting my concentration-."

"Fine."

Down again, the other two a couple of decks ahead of me. Defensive cold fields deployed. And again…

"Nearly there! Medphyll-."

"Pass me a freeze ray!"

I branch a filament off a construct railgun and use it to deploy a cold gun from subspace into his waiting left hand. Down again, and through the ruined decking I get brief glimpses of my colleagues. Medphyll's glowing.. reasonably, and Dox is at least moving under his own power.

"Orange Lantern, can you tell where the nearest soldiers are!?"

"Not reliably. They're destroying my Demons." Down again, this time dropping two levels. "But the Dominators-."

"Stop firing!"

I cease firing my railguns, dropping down another level to come face to face with Medphyll and Dox. "Why? We're nearly there."

"Because we're close to the hull here."

"Yes?"

He winces, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "While I am perfectly capable of ignoring minor injuries, Coluans have no special ability to survive a vacuum while naked. Any halfway competent commander-."

A grey and somewhat frozen drone falls to the ground just behind me.

I attach a filament to Dox as the ceiling explodes!

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
17:14 GMT

A glowing green barrier appears between us and the outside of the station as the follow up shots slam into our position. Dox looks exceedingly tense for an instant before he spots that he's now covered in an environmental shield. The weapons they're shooting at us are standard particle cannons rather than whatever that red thing was. I…

Right, he's the wrong shape for-.

A space suit forms around Dox, then I shove him out of the way and ready cold gun constructs. Three of the small patrol ships I saw coming in are floating about two kilometres away, firing in sequence. The governor must have dropped shields around this part of the station. Or they failed due to Medphyll's actions. Actually, the shots are-

Another shot splashes against Medphyll's barrier. He glances at me and moves it slightly to the side so that I can fire past it.

-coming far slower than my database says they should be. I imagine that they're having to calculate and aim the shots manually rather than use a targeting computer.

Take aim. Fire. The cold gun beams cover the intervening distance in next to no time,-

"Why are you-"

-passing through their shields and supercooling-

"-attacking them? They have hundreds-"

-their armour. Since there's no real kinetic energy involved in the strike the patrol boat just stays there-

"-of those ships and they won't dare fire if-"

-but I can scan the fried interior systems and the frozen pilot.

"-we were in close proximity-"

Medphyll moves his barrier and I shoot at the next two ships.

"-to the high-."

"High caste, yes, Dox, I had considered the issue. I had also considered the issue that with the central computer down they wouldn't know-."

"They don't need to. Starlag's armour will fail without being penetrated after one hit. If the high caste are inside they could send a signal out without using the central systems!"

I spot another squadron of patrol ships heading our way as the two I fired upon start drifting. "Are you sure about that?"

"To a high degree of probability, yes!"

"Fair enough. Medphyll, can you hold that barrier?"

"That depends on whether you wish to repressurise this corridor or not."

"Mister Dox? Do high caste Dominators keep breathing equipment on hand?"

He turns away, taking hold of a piece of debris and throwing it down the corridor away from us. It travels about six metres before it encounters an atmosphere barrier. The air on the far side is still breathable while we're exposed to space. "This whole section has that system. It probably isn't working where you've punched holes-."

"Understood."

Alright, based on the sections I've seen -both personally and via the Praexis Demons- the atmosphere barrier would probably be-.

Somewhere around the stem of the station other patrol boats fire at the hull. Moments later a Praexis Demon falls out of my ring and I get a flash of what happened. The Dominators have sent drones ahead of the soldiers, but since they don't have any arcane presence the Praexis don't instinctively react to them.

Whatever else is happening, the high caste are two sections below us and in more or less the same place and none of the Praexis Demons can see any soldiers closer to them than we are. Railguns and fire.

Another particle beam shot splashes off Medphyll's shield. "Medphyll, are you alright with that?"

"Yes, though I have abandoned my efforts at complex manipulation of the Dominators' systems."

"Fine." A circular section of the deck falls down to the level below us. "Ready to move?"

"After you."

I nod inside my armour, then send the recently returned Praexis Demon through first. It drops down… Another store room. No Dominators in sight and if there are any automated defences they aren't activating. Good show. Two paces and then I jump down, taking an x-ionised blade out of subspace as I go. Minimal atmosphere left, but the room still has gravity and one atmosphere of pressure isn't really enough to move any properly secured object. I slice through the side of the closest box… Looks like.. some sort of noodles. I suppose it makes sense that 'ritual purity' would require separate food storage.

"Clear. Ready to shoot down again."

Dox peers down the hole, then turns and lowers himself from the rim before dropping the rest of the way. "Down."

Hm. Ugh, cold fields don't persist in pure vacuums. The walls where I shot will still be super cooled but I doubt that will stop anyone. Not much point creating another. I add another four railguns to my construct and point them at the floor below us. "Medphyll?"

The green glow from above us intensifies as Medphyll moves away from the exterior hole. He floats over the hole for a moment then drops down, his barrier at the ready for when the patrol boats try shooting through the exterior wall again. "Ready."

"Firing."

Hm. The lack of air might actually improve our odds of them not detecting us. Crumblers eating deck plate isn't quiet, but without air around sound will only be transmitted through the deck itself. Didn't actually think to test that. And on that subject, a filament attaches itself to Dox's suit and gives him a kinetic belt.

"What is this?"

"Terminan technology. Completely nullifies kinetic energy. And lets you fly, though if you haven't practised with-."

"I will manage. Why not give me a standard force field?"

"Because my kinetic barrier stopped those red pulses dead and from what I've seen all of the Dominator soldiers are carrying them." The deck plate is almost gone. "Medphyll, you're on rearguard. Make sure Dox survives."

"I remember."

There's a final puff of air as the last circle of deck plate falls free and I form a construct impellor on the back of my construct armour to shove me forwards faster, blasting through the hole and into the corridor below us. The high caste are actually a good deal further in than we are, and there are several doors between here and there. On the plus side, at this point they're surrounded on all sides by Praexis Demons.

I fly straight on, then around a corner and open fire with crumblers and cold gun. Though armoured and shielded, the blast doors are far less thick than an entire deck. The force field doesn't even trigger as the cold beam hits the metal beyond, and it collapses as soon as the first crumbler hits home. The crumblers weaken the structure enough that I don't bother slowing down. I just manually trigger my kinetic barrier and slam into it fists first, exploding a ragged chunk of it into the room beyond.

The Dominators inside raise their weapons as the air wafts out.

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
17:17 GMT

Purple and black robes, larger red spots on their foreheads -which are bare of any adornment- and respirator facemasks which cover their eyes and mouths. Dominator bodies are notably better at dealing with low pressure environments than those of Humans but I doubt that this is comfortable for them. It's a little surprising that they don't have personal environmental shields… I suppose they assumed that they could teleport such devices to them in the event of an attack.

I generate an ablative shield-construct between myself and them, and instruct the ring to connect to their personal communicators. "Parley."

All five keep their guns pointing at me, and two activate personal force shields. Literal shields, ovals generated by devices on their left wrists.

"Speak."

The respondent is a Dominator with a small vertical line in the upper part of his red spot. The senior one, presumably.

"If you'll lower your weapons I'll restore atmosphere to this chamber. I imagine-."

"Agreed. We will lower weapons once atmosphere is restored."

Not quite what I said, but alright. I generate a construct airlock to cover the hole behind me, then take nitrogen and oxygen gas cylinders out of subspace and open them. Four to one ratio should be fine, though-. Ah, the automated systems are designed not to bother trying to repressurise an area exposed to vacuum. That makes sense. Once it detects that pressure has been restored it should start up on its own.

"Good enough?"

They maintain aim for a few seconds, then simultaneously lower them.

"You were permitted to board this facility to investigate rumours of medical experimentation. None has taken place. Explain why you have attacked us."

"Two main reasons. Firstly, no experimentation? I found a man with virtual reality brain implants a few decks up. Were they there for legitimate medical reasons? Because I read your treaties with the worlds that authorised this place, and there's nothing about using anything like that to punish misbehaviour."

"It is a special case."

"Really. Because as I see it there are two possibilities. Either, you've violated your terms of reference, or -moving on to the second point here- you've come to an alternative agreement with the Computer Tyrants of Colu. Which would mean that the punishment was legitimate, but would get you in a great deal of trouble with the Green Lantern Corps because that world is under an Edict of Isolation for a very good reason."

"The subject of the study is legally 'property' and as such not a prisoner. Furthermore, regardless of their species they were acquired without contact with-."

"Do you really think that admitting to trading in slaves makes your situation any better? And do you really think I can't recognise Vril Dox the Second? Or that I don't have a recording of a Coluan ship flying here?" I make eye contact with each Dominator in turn. "You're been caught out. The faster you accept that and start negotiating in good faith, the faster we can all get on with our lives."

"Hshshshshs." The Dominator's eyes narrow slightly. "What terms do you seek?"

Ring, connect to internal communications.

Compliance.

I stop projecting my construct shield and extend a filament to the lead Dominator's facemask. "Tell the governor to stand down pending negotiations."

"Release your hold on our computer-."

I shake my head. "That's not happening. I don't know this station's full capacities but I'm certainly not returning them to you. Tell him to stand down."

The Dominator stares at me for several seconds, and I see Medphyll approaching with Dox.. flying quite well for a beginner. I open the outer airlock door to allow them access.

"Inferior functionary. We are unharmed. You will return any militia to their stations and begin repairs."

"Superior, I must warn you that-."

"The Lanterns are no longer your proper concern. Address yourself to your duties."

"I obey."

The high caste opposite me waves his right hand through the filament, and I let it fade rather than reinforcing it. "What else?"

Medphyll and Dox are inside the airlock, so I begin cycling it. Have..? Yes, the station's systems have started replenishing the atmosphere in this room. I return the gas cylinders to subspace.

"You've got a bit of a choice to make. My colleague Medphyll-" I indicate him with my right arm as he comes in through the inner door of the airlock. "-is a dedicated and extremely moral Green Lantern. If you like, you can surrender to him. If you do that, you will be invited to make full confession and then you will be punished in whatever way the Guardians think best. Most likely, you'll be spending a few decades in the Sciencells. That about right?"

"It would depend on the results of a more exhaustive investigation than we have so far performed. If convicted, you may receive a sentence of between thirty years and the remainder of your life. There would also be an element of re-education, and positive steps you make towards addressing the defects in your character that have led you to commit these acts would most likely be taken into account when deciding your tariff."

"Or they might sell you back to the Dominion in exchange for political concessions. They don't mind the Dominion running prisons, but… You know that you crossed the line here, right?"

"What is the alternative?"

"You could surrender to me. But I wouldn't recommend that." Ah, finally. The door on the other side of the room begins deforming, then a Praexis Demon falls mouth first through the resulting hole. The Saremite walks through immediately after, bending awkwardly through the gap and then standing up straight. "Unfortunately, the Orange Lantern Corps' facilities aren't ready for prisoners as yet. So far I've… Had to administer summary justice. One group of traders won't ever leave the world where I marooned them. And a group of soldiers I mind controlled… They wouldn't take a chance when it was offered to them, so I had all eight hundred gunned down. In your case, given the nature of your crimes, I imagine that I'll do that to at least some of you."

The lead high caste Dominator stares at the Saremite. "What is that?"

"It used to be a living creature. Then it invaded my home, and I horribly violated its body, mind and soul. Now, it's a construct, and everything it ever was or knew exists only as part of me. Quite a good deal for me in your case; I imagine that there are all sorts of things which a high caste Dominator researcher would know that haven't made it into the public domain yet. Or perhaps I could do something a little less invasive? Just reach into your soul and rearrange your priorities a little? How would you like to have your loyalty to the Dominion replaced by loyalty to… A local prisoner rehabilitation charity, perhaps?"

"We could kill you."

"I'd have given you reasonable odds if your computer was still working. As it is, the Green Lantern Honour Guard taskforce that was planning on heading to Colu is coming here. And you'll certainly become my pawns before I die. How far do you want to escalate this?"

The Dominator continues to stare at me for several moments.

Then he turns away from me to face Medphyll. "Green Lantern. I require you to take us into custody."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
21:56 GMT

"In forest dark or glade beferned
no blade of grass shall go unturned.
Let those who have the daylight spurned
tread not where this green lamp has burned."

The Dominators stand in order of caste in the cube construct which the Green Lanterns are going to use for the journey back to Oa. All of them are refusing to even acknowledge that the Lanterns are there, eyes front without the slightest deviation or uncertainty. Kind of impressive. Lantern Lee turns towards the viewing window I'm watching them through, taking the opportunity to give me the evils one more time before he and the three others he assigned to prisoner transfer duty vanish in a wave of green.

Next to me Medphyll lowers his right arm as he returns his personal lantern to subspace. "I was pleasantly surprised at how you handled the conclusion."

"What, did you think I was just going to shoot them?"

"While we won't know for sure until their debriefing is complete, I expect that high caste Dominators have committed unique and imaginative evils beyond the ken of mere pirate thugs."

I nod. "I can chase after them if you want."

"I was wondering if you could explain why you decided to treat them differently."

"Hmm."

I look over to the asteroids, where a Green Lantern whose name I didn't hear is replacing the Okaaran gang master in watching over the prisoners. Perhaps part of the reason why Lantern Lee isn't all that impressed with me is that they're going to have to take over running this facility until they can either find someone else to handle it or get the resources together for a marooning colony.

"The obvious reason is that this was a joint operation. Orange Lanterns and Green Lanterns are going to need to be able to cooperate in the future, so I wasn't going to do anything to unnecessarily alienate you. The Dominion is still a going concern, and simply executing a group of their elites could… Probably would cause all sorts of blowback."

"Where the summary executions of eight hundred members of a military you have already largely destroyed would not."

"Not more than killing the half-million or so that died when we destroyed most of their fleet, no."

"Koriand'r did not mention the number of dead. I assumed that it was lower."

"Koriand'r is a good person. But she grew up in Vega. She's far more ruthless than you. Those died in combat, so she doesn't worry about it."

"Do you not worry about the eight hundred?"

I shake my head. "Medphyll, I'm enlightened. I have achieved harmony and peace with my desires. When I decide that I want a particular result and pursue a rational method to get that result… No. And unless you've got significant new evidence that my assessment of the feasibility of doing.. anything else with them was inaccurate… I'm not going to start worrying about it. I didn't have anyone available to guard a prison and I didn't have a prison. Low level officers are intelligent but mentally inflexible and I've yet to hear a Citadelian grunt communicate in any fashion other than a grunt or a roar. And neither has anyone else in Vega; I checked."

"Then why not simply kill all of them, or command them to kill themselves?"

I exhale. "I'm.. an empath, but what I did to control them altered their emotional responses. Until I let them go, I couldn't be completely sure how they would respond. I had hoped that they might take my offer of mercenary employment. When it turned out I was wrong… Amalak's guns were already pointing at them. What would have been the point of killing them myself?"

"The survivors?"

"Free to make lives for themselves. Or not. It was never my objective to exterminate the Citadelians completely, or I'd have attended to that before coming here. Maybe they'll turn themselves into something not completely vile. Or maybe they won't and I'll end up killing the rest too. Up to them."

His eye narrows. "All that you have said, and you are still not considering alternate custody arrangements?"

I smile. "If it troubles you, you know what you have to do." His ring glows a little brighter. "Earn such acclaim that the Guardians promote you to the Honour Guard, then request that they remove the ban on operating in Vega and send you there."

He blinks, surprised, the glow on his ring fading as his fist unclenches. "Hah!"

"No no, it's not a joke. I'm sure that.. if you put your mind to it… And do crazy things like leave your Sector without authorisation and pick a fight with the Dominion at the instigation of an Orange Lantern… The Guardians might do that rather than firing you."

"You want.. me to get promoted?"

"Yes. I don't want all Lanterns to be like me, and I don't want a Corps of yes men. If you can find a less harsh solution, then I'll say the same thing to you that I said to Koriand'r: good luck to you. I don't think there is one, but I've been wrong before and it could happen again."

"I will consider the issue." He turns away from me and looks back into the interior of the station. "This has been a… Not unpleasant change of pace."

"I'm glad you think so."

"It is fortunate, considering that Salaak has assigned me as temporary governor."

"Yes, yes it is." I step away from the window as well, walking past him in the direction of the Dominators' former command centre. "I'd offer to keep in touch, but with me barred from ring communications…"

"I will ask Koriand'r to contact you on my behalf when I return to my Sector. I hope that more of your future missions go as well as this one did, rather than as brutally as your sojourn into Vega."

I glance back as I walk up to the door. "That would be nice. Good luck with the being-surrounded-by-hardened-criminals-who-hate-you-on-principle thing."

"Thank you."

I turn away, shaking my head as I walk through the door. A short stroll takes me into the command centre where Dox is sitting at a command console, hands moving rapidly over the holographic interface. He's wearing a pink shirt, grey trousers and white boots, which he recovered from the store of his personal effects the Dominators were keeping hold of. That's… Pretty much all that was there, actually. The only other objects were a few written notes and a diadem of red disks and silver wires that he crushed as soon as he saw it.

One of the remaining Green Lanterns is here too. Partially, anyway. Five of the small green spiky balls which make up the body of Lantern… Lantern Collective. Since we can't get full control of the central computer, they are standing in for internal monitoring. Apparently, they are one of this Sector's Green Lanterns, which just goes to show that you can be a distributed intelligence with hundreds of bodies and still completely miss an evil AI taking over a planet and enslaving it's population.

"Mister Dox, do you have a moment?"

He doesn't look up from his work. "You may speak."

"Looking at anything interesting?"

"Yes."

Ah, of course. This is 'minimal social experience' Dox, before he had to run Legion and learned how to pretend to be able to relate to people. And.. he has no particular reason to like or to trust me. "I have an.. offer to make you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th August
22:00 GMT

"Obviously."

He turns away from the screen to look at me with an expression of cold indifference. What I actually see is rather different. The colours inside him aren't faint as they are in Dominators, but… The lines are rigid, flows prevented from moving from place to place by the harsh imposition of logic. A scene of.. his father performing surgery on his right arm without anaesthetic isn't allowed to connect to other memories or guide his actions. I'm actually… This is the first time I've been worried about whether he can do the job I want to give him, at least without having some sort of breakdown part way through.

On the other hand… That technique should work just as well for orange, and he doesn't need to be an outstanding field Lantern.

"I understand that-."

"Just state your demand. I am in no position to refuse and I have little use for either obfuscation or unnecessary social interaction."

"Mister Dox, I'm not going to demand anything. It would be a violation of my personal philosophy and.. rather self defeating to demand anything of you, even if the Green Lanterns would let me." I glance at the closest ball. "Lantern Collective?"

"Inmate Vril Dox is recommended for immediate release, and is to be accommodated and protected in the intervening period."

"See?"

"I find it highly unlikely that out of all of the Dominator-run prisons in this galaxy you chose to investigate the one holding me by chance."

"No, I'm here because I was pretty sure that you were here."

"How long did you know I was here?"

"Um." I frown. "I had information which suggested that you might be in a Dominator-run prison about a year ago, but I was only able to get it authenticated twenty one days ago. After that, rushing in seemed like a bad plan, preparations took time..."

That appears to pass muster, though I can see why he might be peeved. He doesn't nod, but he does unclench very slightly.

"Would you mind me asking-?"

"Just ask."

"Your background. Would I be correct in my belief that you are a clone of Vril Dox the First, also known as Brainiac?"

"He doesn't style himself 'the First', and I imagine that the title you gave him is a crude approximation of the Coluan word. Otherwise, yes."

"And your upbringing? Cruel, harsh, somewhere between slave-assistant and test subject?"

"Yes. It is unlikely that I would be able to provide you with further data on him. After he uploaded himself he stopped acknowledging that I existed."

"Oh, I.. don't really care about him. I'm more interested in the sort of person that such an upbringing would create." I smile. "Can I assume that you hate him with a fiery passion?"

"Passion is irrational. If my objective were his destruction I would remain cold and calculating."

"But if you could make one being in the universe suffer an agonising death..?"

"I would select him."

I nod. "Glad to hear it. And may I say that -speaking as an empath- the way you compartmentalise your emotional responses is really quite impressive."

"You just did."

I smile. "What would such a person want? Presumably you've considered the fact that as a clone you would probably behave in the same way he did, given the same circumstances. But, you hate him. You want to reject everything about him. Yes?"

"It would be foolish to pretend that my genes don't exist."

"So what do you want to do, now that you're free?"

"Why are you asking what you already know? Clearly you have already reviewed what the Dominators took from my mind-."

"No. I haven't. Feel free to check with the Green Lanterns who have been continually monitoring me." He frowns. "What made you assume that?"

"The Dominators were attempting to use me to better model my father's behaviour. Since my brain is the closest thing they have to his brain, they ran me through various scenarios. In some of them I believed that I was him."

"Ah."

"In others I attempted to plan what I would do in situations like this. But you think that you already know."

"Coluans are unusually intelligent, but emotionally you mostly conform to predictable humanoid norms of behaviour. You value order and security, two things long denied to you. You have your primogenitor's intelligence and drive, but you don't want to repeat what he has done. A number of possibilities would make sense, but my first guess would be a private security firm of some kind."

He watches me for a moment. "It was a possibility."

I nod. "There are plenty of people who would pay to have certain places dealt with. The galactic economy will certainly support privateers and bounty hunters… Even mercenary armies, if you get the PR right. Bring order and justice to the region." I look directly at him. "Is that what you want?"

"You know that it is. I thought that my mental defences were better than this."

"I want to offer you an alternate approach. I can get you a lot of resources up front. Raw materials, shipyards, skilled personnel. A central power battery." That warrants a frown. "The drawback is that you wouldn't be in complete control of what the organisation did."

"Shareholders."

"A steering committee. For the project as a whole. With the Green Lantern Corps finally getting organised the fall of the Computer Tyrants is inevitable. I have another foe that needs to be fought, one with far larger holdings than a single planet. And you're the man whom I want to lead our efforts."

"Who?"

"The Reach."

His eyes unfocus slightly. "Maltus."

"Indeed."

"My father had files on the Reach. He considered them inefficient, though he was rather interested in the physiology of their Scarab Warriors." He focuses on me again. "Precisely what requisition authority would I have?"

"Whatever you can negotiate from the Controllers. Bearing in mind that they're well past the level of a scarcity-based economy and really want to beat the Reach."

"And what authority do you intend to maintain?"

"My knowledge of the safe use of the orange light is superior to that of anyone else. Presently, my intent is that I would act as the Illustres to your Clarissi. You would administer and organise; I would train, teach and lead the Corps into combat."

"And be my subordinate within the Corps." I nod. "A Lantern Corps wouldn't be enough to defeat the Reach. The Reach has anti-Lantern weaponry and combat doctrines, and the relative small size of the Green Lantern Corps suggests that recruitment is likely to be a bottleneck."

"You would be free to build a conventional fleet as well. I have a list of worlds which may be willing to provide portions of their military to act as a training cadre. Does this sound like something you want to consider?"

"I will want more data before reaching a firm conclusion. But you may consider me provisionally interested."

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th August
14:53 GMT

I look away from where Hinon is giving Dox an explanation of what a fully operational Central Power Battery is capable of, focusing my attention on the images of the Tamaranean princesses floating over my ring. "When you say 'gone', are we talking about them all performing hara-kiri, or..?"

Komand'r scowls. "Alas, no. We found abandoned sublight ships and bases… But the majority of Citadelian ships have left."

Koriand'r seems more sanguine. "Vega will be spared the harm they would have inflicted in their death throes. I do not see this as something to bemoan."

"Lantern Green Man tell you anything?"

Komand'r nods. "Yes. That he cannot be expected to be everywhere at once. He was concerned by Amalak's fleet movements-."

I nod. "And ended up being in the wrong region of space to intercept the Citadelians." Darn. Still, that should be good for Vega at least. "What are the other Vega powers doing?"

Koriand'r's face disappears, being replaced with an image of a cluster of Branx ships. "Branx consortiums have taken over salvage operations at the former site of Citadel Complex."

"Peacefully?"

Her face reappears. "With one another, yes. Others are fired upon."

"And they're not trying to muscle in on territory anywhere else?"

"They are… Marking out areas of interest. Though they are much less brutal in their dealings than the Citadel were."

"Right. I suppose we can live with that. And the Gordanians?"

"Those that are trying to seize territory are mostly fighting one another." Komand'r grins predatorily. "I considered helping the weaker groups with the aim of getting more of them killed. But when my ring nearly turned itself off I realised that I had no stomach for working alongside such creatures."

"And the Psions?"

The images of the sisters' heads turn to face one another for a moment. Then Koriand'r turns back to me and shakes her head. "Nothing. The ships that were close to the Citadel have returned to their Motherworld. We have neither seen nor heard anything about them becoming more active."

"Any good news?"

Komand'r affects a mildly strained air. "The energy barrier around Euphorix still remains in place and the Okaarans are still selling themselves to anyone with goods to trade. And we haven't heard from our brother or his friends." Koriand'r shoots her an irked glare. "Though -to be fair- we have been moving around a good deal."

I nod. "Alright. I trust you to manage the Gordanians. Let me know if you need any assistance." They nod. "Two Eight One Four out."

I close my left hand, the construct heads disappearing as I drift back towards Hinon and Dox.

"…could probably throw a ship or two together for you, but I doubt that many of us would be prepared to spend the sort of time on it that would be required to assemble a fleet capable of launching a conventional invasion."

"I was under the impression that you were better motivated."

"My good man, what is the point of having minions if you have to do all of the grunt work yourself?"

"You achieve your objectives faster and more reliably."

Hinon huffs. "Alright, yes, we could throw ships together, but it wouldn't be all that fast-."

"And do you really want to make yourself that dependent on Controller good will?"

They both turn to include me in their huddle. "Good news from Vega?"

"Things are surprisingly peaceful. I'm just not sure why."

Dox considers my previous comment. "What did you mean by that?"

"Simple. The more someone else does, the less this is your thing. The more authority you give to someone else over the enterprise. And you only have finite time. Do you want to spend it arguing with Controllers or organising the fleet production networks of the hundreds of inhabited worlds being threatened by the Reach?"

"I am surprised that they expect me to argue with them at all."

"You don't see the Guardians making ships for Green Lanterns."

"There are nine Guardians left to cover the entire universe. I doubt that they could make enough ships to be worthwhile. We will be operating over a far smaller area. I already have enough data to begin the design work but I need a fleet in the field as quickly as possible, far faster than tributary shipyards can be brought into alignment. As things stand I'm not certain that I understand what it is that the Controllers bring to this arrangement."

"If I may..?"

"Oh, go ahead. We're talking in spirals at this point anyway."

"Controller Hinon, how many Controllers have joined with the orange light so far?"

"Four. I believe that the rest are waiting to see if we go mad or explode before taking the leap."

"The point Mister Dox is making is: what's your buy-in? A conventional military force doesn't really need Controllers at all. Lanterns need you to keep the Central Power Battery in good working order and to make personal lanterns and rings. But we don't really need the thirty or so Controllers who are planning on aligning themselves with the Battery. What is the faction as a whole doing that we should want to give you authority?"

"And I take it that you expect us to engage in manual labour?"

"Needing ships into being is hardly that. My suggestion is that we agree a tariff. The Controllers agree to provide a certain amount of labour. Nothing offensive, but enough to get us in business faster and to encourage them to feel a bit proprietary about our forces."

"At the very minimum I'm going to need a large enough fleet to convince potential allies that I'm worth listening to. It would take a considerable amount of time to turn the relatively small shipyards I saw when we approached into something large enough to build such a force."

Hinon nods slowly. "I may be able to persuade them to accept such an arrangement. But it would help me immensely if I could present the final command and control structure as something that would salve their egos?"

"We're going to be doing most of our initial recruiting from the Darkstars, then from people the Controllers have already helped escape the Reach. They'll be naturally inclined to accept Controller authority. As for the.. steering committee, my thoughts were that it be formed of a group of seven individuals. Three Controllers, the Director of the Darkstars, the Clarissi, the Illustres and the commander of the conventional military organisation, whatever that ends up being called. That gives the Controllers the largest say without giving them an absolute majority."

"I thought that you recruited me to organise this endeavour."

"Certainly. You'll have two votes as Clarissi and commander, and complete control of both organisations. Except where you've agreed a compromise in exchange for something you want in return. The whole point of the exercise is that it is always better for us to cooperate than compete with one another. Things should be run by compromise and consensus rather than majority votes in any case, and as your parts of the organisation have more to offer your negotiating strength will increase."

"And that of the Controllers will tend to decrease."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"But it will hopefully nudge them into doing more in order to maintain their influence. Please note that I am not insisting. This is just a suggestion."

"One which is not without merit. So, Clarissi Dox, how exactly do you plan on starting our counterattack?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Do-Over

13th August
08:57 GMT -6

I bend my head to the left and try turning to look at my right shoulder. No, no, it's not happening. I can't even feel the G-Gnome it weighs so little, and my neck just doesn't bend far-.

"Grayven!" Sunset strides into the workshop area, a heavy looking satchel over her shoulder. "I'm going to spend the weekend at Zatanna's!"

I give up on meeting the G-Gnome eye to eye and turn towards Sunset. "Sunset, I like to think that at this point we've developed a reasonable interpersonal relationship-."

She puts her hands on her hips, staring up at me in mild frustration. "You told me you didn't need me. You told me there weren't even any decent magic users in the Vega Systems. You can't possibly have-."

"And while Zatanna is in many ways an excellent match for you, I feel obliged to point out that her religion is rather down on same-sex pairings." Sunset cringes and then freezes, a look of delicious mortification on her face. "So make sure to use spells of concealment and sound deadening when her father is-."

"Stop. STOP!" She stares at me with furious incredulity in her eyes. "Where did THAT come from!?"

"While I don't have all that much to contribute to your arcane education, I feel that as your primary adult caregiver-"

"You-you're-you think you're what?"

"-it falls upon me to see to your moral instruction. Since Celestia was making such a hash of it-" She makes an amused snort and semi-nods. "-and your natural parents aren't here-."

And the funny's gone. She holds out her right hand in a Roman salute style. "Stop."

I stop.

"I'm not doing… Anything like that with Zatanna. We're friends. Good friends, who share a common interest. I still don't find Humans attractive like that-."

I tilt my head slightly towards the G-Gnome. "You know that internet access here is monitored, r-?"

She blushes slightly, but rallies immediately. "I was briefly curious. It was a phase. A short phase. That has nothing to do with Zatanna."

"Okay, well, you girls have good, clean and exclusively thaumaturgy-based fun without me."

"I-." She closes her eyes and shakes her head in an effort to throw off me. "That's not why I came in here."

"You can't use my car, you haven't taken lessons."

"I'm trying to be serious, Grayven. I read your files on Vega." I nod. "How.. many..?" She stops, looking down for a moment. "You're going to kill a lot of people, aren't you?"

"Yep. Probably.. like…" I make a gesture with both hands of mildly frustrated uncertainty. "Five..? Million? Maybe twenty? The Psions and the Citadel basically have to go, but neither has particularly large populations. The Gordanians… Yeah, don't know. I'm mostly planning on leaving that up to Michael."

"He eats people."

"Not often. It's more that his mouth is a weapon than a dietary decision."

"Look. I.. know.. Humans and Apokoliptians have a… Different attitude to killing than Wilsonian Ponies, but-."

"No we don't. You don't have Windigo reserves, do you? You don't let Discord out for a day every year. You don't let Nightmare Moon eat a few children every Nightmare Night. You live in an age of peace because in ages past somepony stabbed more than a few very nasty people to death with her forehead spear."

"And how many of those twenty million are going to be innocent?"

Ah. "Like, totally innocent, or.. below-?"

"Grayven." Ghia'ta walks into the workshop behind Sunset, taking in her obvious frustration. "Are you being… You, again?"

I grin. "Hard as I can! Oh, and Sunset wants help asking out Zatanna." Sunset's eyes widen as I stride past her. "Bye!"

"You do?" / "Grayven!"

I upgrade my stride to a jog. I've got to be honest here… At least with myself. This whole Vega expedition thing will be a lot simpler if I leave as many morality pets as possible behin-.

Vrrrrm.

Curses, foiled again. "Sphere." She rolls out of a side passage, frontal lighting section shimmering. "I thought that you were in New Hampshire."

Beep rev chirp.

"Now… Come on. The only reason-."

Beep.

"I did not. I was simply aware of her particular skill-."

Rev rev.

"Fine! Fine. You can come, but it's a planet full of DeSaad fanclones. Hold me back and I will laugh in your…" I point vaguely at her… "Front.. blob… Thing."

Beep.

"Really? Oh, that's actually helpful. Okay, we're assembling in the embarkation room-."

Rev beep.

She turns and accelerates ahead of me, heading towards the chamber where my troops are mustering. And doesn't that just sound splendid. I follow on behind her at a stroll. And… Ugh.

**Jean, checking connection.**

**I hear you, Mister Grayven. I do hope that wasn't too painful?**

**I'll live. Everyone assembled?**

**All bar you and Miss Ghia'ta. And I see that the Sphere has returned.**

**Yeah, I'm-** I glance back. **-kind of hoping-.**

There's a flash just in front of me as Ghia'ta appears. **Hoping what?**

I smile as honestly as I'm able. **Hoping that you were able to give Sunset the tutoring she requires without feeling that you need to rush.**

Corpsman, are these people really necessary?

That actually brings me up short.

Yes, Sinestro. Frustrating as they may by turns be, yes they are.

I can't talk to you when you're like this, Corpsman.

"Sunset refused to speak of her love to me." Ghia'ta drifts along besides me. "I fear that I simply haven't bonded with her as well as you have-"

Ghghahahahaghrhaha!

"-in the time that I have been here."

"I'm.. sure that she'll come around."

The doors are still flapping from the Sphere's passage, but I make a point of stepping heavily into them and throwing them wide.

**My people!** My people!

On the right Michael stands towering over the Redcap-Breed G-Elves and G-Gnomes he's going to be taking to Karna. Given that he basically looks like a Karnan demigod I suspect that he'll have little trouble integrating himself into their resistance movement. That and his absolute lethality. The Redcaps were a side project of mine when I considered the fact that G-Elves are worse fighters in almost every regard than Humans, as they aren't designed to handle guns. A few visits to some perhaps-not-entirely legitimate Martian arms dealers saw me trade some Earth-made laboratory equipment for some rather neat psychoreactive biotechnology. That, and quite a lot of laboratory time resulted in a breed of G-Elf with telekinetically augmented claws and a telekinetic defensive shield. And a nifty red skullcap thing that gives them the ability to actually control their new additions. Like I told Dubbilex: you don't need new breeds, you need to improve the ones you have.

In the centre, Miss Amane twirls her scythe like a demented giggling gothic majorette… Which.. I.. suppose is actually a literal description of her. The Sphere rolls to a halt in front of her and gives her a warble, prompting Miss Amane to stop and crouch in front of her and pat her on the top of her dome. And on the left…

Ahhh…

I walk over and pick up the techno-seed in my right hand, then heft it onto my shoulder as my drone swarm swarms. Since I'm not completely sure what sorts of weapons we'll be facing I made drones capable of countering just about everything I could think of. And Sunset Shimmer's work on the techno-seed is sublime.

I smile at my assembled forces.

**My people. Let's go do some good.**

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
09:11 GMT -6

Michael looks through the hush tube just in front of us. "Our target?"

I nod. "The Gizzard Spiker clan were the first clan to sell out to the Citadel. It was that alliance which resulted in the progressive, unified, Karnan-dominated society that used to control the planet being violently overthrown and replaced with the current morass. Even most other Gordanian clans don't like them."

Ghia'ta frowns. "If they find them so abhorrent, why did they follow their example?"

"They were winning." I shrug. "It's amazing how popular that makes an idea."

The Sphere warbles.

"No, one of their few universal cultural prohibitions absolutely forbids using orbital weapons against targets on the surface of Karna. Anyone breaks it, all of the other clans would unify to destroy them. It's actually happened a couple of times." Gordanian data security isn't particularly good, but then neither is their record keeping. Took a while to get corroboration, but it was there. "Plus, a hush tube to safety will be a button-push away."

Michael grunts in satisfaction. "I will see you again with Gordanian blood on my lips and victory in my jaws."

"Go get 'em, Tiger."

He swivels his head my way to sniff at my phrasing, then sprints full tilt into the hush tube. **Hunt!** Hunt!

The G-Elves and their G-Gnome passengers stream through after him, and for a moment I dare to hope that Ghia'ta or Sphere might be going to go with them... After a moment I turn my head towards Ghia'ta and then tilt it in the direction of the hush tube entrance.

"Not… Going to go with him?"

"Though participating in a campaign of liberation in which a negotiated settlement is possible is far more appealing to me than helping you with… What it is that you intend to do, I was sent here to ensure that helping you was not unleashing a great evil upon the universe. As such, I feel that it is my duty to stay with you."

Ah. Well.

"If you insist." The hush tube shuts down and another opens, this time leading to the Psions' planet of residence. Not actually their homeworld; I don't remember where the Guardians originally found them, but they don't have a sufficiently close genetic relationship to anything on it for it to be that place. "Just remember that Psions almost certainly have all kinds of anti-Lantern weaponry and I don't want to have to explain your death to your aunt."

Ghia'ta strikes what looks worryingly like a Sailor Moon pose, showing off her pink crystalline armour to best advantage. "You do not need to worry."

"No." I smile and pat her on the right shoulder with my left hand. "But I like to."

She smiles. Stupid… Morality.. pet.. freeloading people. Mellowing my harsh.

"Okay." I step away from the Warrior of Love and Justice, moving closer to the far more reliable Miss Amane. "Your job is simple. Find where they're keeping test subjects, slaves, vital pieces of infrastructure, things like that. Engage if you have to, take a hush tube out if you're in danger of being overwhelmed. A lot of the Psions you'll be running into won't be soldiers but that doesn't mean that they haven't done enough truly revolting things that they thoroughly deserve being killed. If you're in doubt, use a G-Gnome."

Miss Amane grins that creepy grin of hers. "Do not worry, Master. If you say that it is right to kill them then that is what I will do!"

She spins her scythe and then does a sort of.. back flip cartwheel thing whose effect is such that if I were a male anime protagonist the sight of it would leave me unconscious due to olfactory blood loss. As it is… All it does is worry me. No, no, she's super fast and reasonably intelligent. She should be able to handle herself.

"Give me three minutes, then start your reconnaissance."

Ghia'ta nods while Miss Amane does a bow-curtsey thing. I stride forward-.

And the Sphere zips in front of me and beeps.

"Really? Okay, fine, go on then."

The Sphere unfolds into a configuration I can actually sit in. A bit pointless now, given that I've got two power rings and integrated aero-discs for flying… Maybe I should encourage her to spend time with Lynne instead? None of the girls have flight after all… Problem for another day. I throw my right leg over her saddle and take a grip on the handlebars. "Hi ho Sphere, away!"

My environmental shield intensifies as we shoot out through the hush tube and into the skies of the Psions'… Ugh, 'Wombworld'. I have no idea why they call it that. I'd have left the name in the Psions' own language but the ring translated it the first time I heard it and now I can't unhear it. I had a few test drones fly through a few days ago so I've got a rough idea on the Psion military's response times. In fact… Three, two-

Jam teleportation.

By your command.

-one.

There are three flares of pink in the air about a hundred metres above me, then it briefly rains mashed machinery. The Psion military has a combat drone focus so those were all non-sentient… Eh, Psions, probably non-sentient. I don't have any records of Psions using machine intelligences but they do have the capacity if they really wanted to. Teleportation assault having failed their next step is launching drone transports from gravitic accelerators from the nearest settlement complex, pooosibly with an oversight barge containing actual Psions. Ship-based assault is possible but unlikely; the Psions are far more happy to fire on their world than the Gordanians are but they wouldn't do that for a curious but limited incursion.

Transport detected.

Best hurry up, then. I float the techno-seed out in front of me. Double check.

All systems as per specification.

Mother Box?

Ping!

Excellent. And now the one thing my artificially intelligent accomplices can't check… I pour my soul into the network of enchanted metal which makes up Sunset's contribution. I still can't cast spells worth a damn, but after that mess with Mister Doom I've had Sunset's help training my arcane senses. This… Feels right. I angle the techno-seed so that the solar siphon is pointing directly at the Wombworld's star, then in a single fluid motion remove the suppression charm and throw the techno-seed into the air. The solar siphon attached to it begins shining blindingly at once as it forms a sympathetic link to the star.

Sunset had wanted to become an Alicorn since she was old enough to understand what one was. And with nothing written on the subject of ascension in any book she could get access to and with the one Pony who might have information on the subject constantly trying to get her interested in 'friendship' rather than giving her a straight answer, she decided to try studying Celestia herself to see if she could learn something. I suppose her next step was pretty logical; the sun is a very powerful thing, maybe Celestia used it to trigger her own ascension? So Sunset studied everything she could find on the legends concerning pre-Unification Unicorn mages raising and lowering the sun and moon collectively and then used a bunch of spells whenever Celestia raised or lowered the sun in an attempt to understand the link.

It didn't turn her into an Alicorn -and rather implied that Celestia didn't get any power from the sun- but it did teach her a great deal about arcane solar manipulation.

Solar plasma blasts out of the siphon and begins clouding out the sky as the Brimstone begins to form. Not only will it continue to grow constantly, but it will also shrug off electromagnetic effects like the one I used to shut it down last year. The Psions can probably take it -you don't become the premier mad science race in a region like this if you can't think on your feet- but it will do a decent amount of damage in the meantime and certainly keep their attention focused.

I tug lightly on the Sphere's handlebars, turning her towards the closest Psion city.

Let's make sure he knows which way to rampage.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
09:14 GMT -6

Four, three, two-.

The light from the glowing shape forming in the air behind me flares for a moment and then dims.

"Behold the fallen angel known as Brimstone!"

And while I did try to change that announcement, I suppose I… Get it now, in a way I didn't last December. Big, bold and bombastic is how New Gods work, and there are perfectly sensible reasons relating to spiritual mechanics why the walking sun announces itself in those terms.

Honest.

"My dark master has cast me out!"

"Brimstone!" I turn the Spherecycle around so that I'm facing him. Plasma servitors actually have really good vision in all directions so the fact that from his point of view I'm tiny won't matter. "Attend to me!"

A direct order should snap it out of 'general rampage' mode. Still a bit up in the air as to whether it will actually obey me, but it can't get off-world and virtually everyone here is a Psion, so, no loss.

"Grayven! The son of my dark master!"

Oh, he does remember. Sweet.

"Suzerain of Earth! I will serve you in his name!"

Don't… Remember it being told that, but okay.

"The people of this world are my enemies! In my father's name, strike them down and destroy their works!"

"So shall it be!"

His eyes begin to glow, and I wheel the Spherecycle around before the blinding beams of solar plasma lance out and effortlessly burn through the oncoming drone transports and onwards into the city behind them. A faintly pink energy field flares to life and the plasma batters against it, the generators visibly straining to contain the sun beams. They cut out a moment later as Brimstone begins its advance.

Hm. Let's see. It shouldn't take the Psions all that long to work out more or less what it is that's attacking them. Exotic matter shields are good for general purpose defence but they'll probably try switching to magnetic barriers just as soon as someone with the authority to do so is alerted.

"I am the instrument of justice of a dark and angry god! His terrible swift sword!"

As Brimstone is a man-shaped lump of sun held together by magnets, Apokoliptian technology and magic rather than a flesh being… He's got a surprising turn of speed. Even if its designer didn't give it the ability to fly… And to be honest I think it would have probably been easier to do that than to prevent it. I mean, power rings let their wearers fly by putting a field around their bodies and then lifting it and a.. Brimstone is basically plasma being lifted by…

No, not thinking about it. Anyway, the lack of flesh means that it can move with far greater agility and speed than a person might-

The light is momentarily blocked as Brimstone runs at full sprint over my head.

-assume. This time the lance of plasma comes from his 'mouth', far narrower and more focused than the first bolts. The shield defending the city flares, buckles and-

"Feel now, sinners, the wrath of Brimstone! And let the universe forever be rid of you!!"

-fails, the beam carrying on into a burning… I don't know, some sort of… Oh, come on, an automated workshop!? This isn't a Saturday morning animation aimed at the young by their weak-of-stomach parents! I want blood, damn it!

Ping!

No, it's fine, they don't do their biological research here. The only inhabitants are Psions-.

Ping.

Well, technically-.

Ping.

And you wonder why I wanted to leave you behind.

Ping.

Okay, yes, you're right. That was too much. I'm sorry. But the point I'm trying to make is that-

Brimstone fires again, the plasma slamming into… A magnetic barrier. Quick work.

-I can't destroy repugnant societies without destroying.

Ping.

And look how well that worked out! Uncle Drax is either dead or in a pocket universe, Izaya's wife got murdered and father has gotten further with his Anti-Life research than grandfather ever did with the Source! The universe is actually more imperilled than it would be if he'd drugged father's drink and then stabbed him in the eye socket!

Ping.

I know that, but while I like existing I can't help but think that as far as the universe as a whole is concerned it probably-.

Ping.

Gh-. Did Himon put you up to this?

Ping.

They almost certainly can't. They're not exactly clones, but they mix genes in laboratories, the resulting Psionlings get raised and dehumanised -or whatever you call it- in mechanurseries and then join the labour force in a monstrous society that actually bred most of the species in this region just to perform long term biotech research. It's like… Like DeSaad and Granny Goodness -and here's a mental image spawned from the Anti-Life- had a baby which took over some planet in the Waste and started playing god. More than we normally do.

Ping.

Even if I wanted to -and I don't- I strongly doubt that they'd go for it.

Ping.

Look, can't you just let me enjoy wanton destruction? Father Box wouldn't-.

Ping.

Yes, and right up until that happened we had a connection. I'm barely even looking forwards to this any more. Do you understand what you've done to me? I just sent a giant made of plasma to destroy a city full of robots and 'evildoers' while my colleagues rescue their slaves -and I don't mean slaves in the 'technically-owned-peasants' sense, I mean test subjects for whatever bizarre and depraved experiment whatever Psion drew the long straw feels like performing- and I'm not even going to have fun-.

Ping.

Okay, I'll tell you what. Brimstone is doing really well at the distraction and Sphere and I are immune to magnetic fields. If we can go there and find ten Psions who aren't total monsters, then I'll make sure that the species keeps existing. Ten. Abraham had to negotiate Elion down to ten and I'm starting there. Does that sound reasonable to you?

Ping.

No, I'm doing that anyway. But I can shut down Brimstone, and once the slaves have been evacuated I'll… Come up with something else. Not that I expect I'll have to, mind you.

Ping.

Good. Settled. Now I don't want to hear anything else about it.

Vroom.

I should have known.

Bah.

I turn the Spherecycle around, harness the fear being felt by the organic inhabitants of the city behind me as Brimstone strides through their magnetic barrier and generates a colossal ball of plasma between his hands to generate a booster construct and set course for the next city over as Brimstone superheats the area around him to fry the drone weapons systems trying and failing to harm him.

Bah.

What's the point of mass killing if you don't get to enjoy it?

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
09:31 GMT -6

"Alright. You."

The Psion who had frantically been trying to reactivate the gravity sled raises his hands and backs away from the control panel. "Me?"

"Yes."

I heft my daiklave over my shoulder and step over the wreckage of the trailers it was towing. Psions use tunnels like these to transport bulk materials between their cities. Since the city Brimstone is busy incinerating mostly exports machine components, there's next to no chance that any biological sample has ever come this way. Which means -since I want to be completely fair to Mother Box here- that the Psion who operates them has probably had the least opportunity to do evil of just about anyone on the planet.

"I was wondering-." Ah, no. Be polite. "What's your name?"

"Tren?"

"You don't sound very sure there, Tren." I keep walking closer and he keeps backing up until he bumps into the railing. I crouch down so that I'm more on his level.

"I'm sure. Ah, I'm sure."

"Glad to hear it. Now, as I'm sure that you're aware, there's a walking sun up there turning the city to glass."

"Uh huh."

"But you don't have to worry about that, because I need to ask you a few questions and I can't do that if you've been incinerated, can I?"

"You mean-." He makes a sort of rasping/coughing noise. "You mean, like the other guys?"

I look back to where what's left of his late colleagues is lying on the ground. One got mashed against the wall when the carriages jack-knifed and the other bled out when I fired at the train with my fusion cannon.

"To be fair, they haven't been incinerated. But yes. If you answer my questions there's a reasonable chance that you will live."

"O-okay?"

"First question. You're in a desert, walking along in the sand when all of a sudden you look down and see a Tortoise."

"I-it just appeared?"

"It's not really-. Let's assume that it was there all along but you didn't notice it."

"Um. What's a Tortoise?"

"It's a type of quadrupedal reptile native to Earth. It has a heavy shell around its torso which provides protection at the cost of mobility."

"Oh. Okay." The scales around his forehead move. "Is that meant to be a metaphor?"

"Only in the sense that everything can be. So as it crawls forward-."

"What do you mean 'everything can be a metaphor'?"

I squint. "Really? It never occurred to you that you can stretch a comparison from anything to anything else as long as you don't mind it becoming increasingly nonsensical?"

"Creative writing is really something that aliens do. I mean, I know what a metaphor is, but… Why would I use a comparison if it didn't make any sense?"

"Some species find that makes it easier to understand things if they can compare them to things they already understand."

"Heh. Aliens."

"… Yes. So, the Tortoise crawls closer and you reach down and turn it onto its back. The tortoise lays on its back, its belly baking in the hot sun, beating its legs trying to turn itself over. But it can't. Not without your help. But you're not helping."

"Of course not. I wouldn't have turned it over if I was just going to turn it back again. That would be a wasted effort."

I nod. "Logical. So why do you think you turned it over in the first place?"

"Probably so that it can't get away while I cut it open and find out how it works."

"Wouldn't non-invasive methods be a better place to start?"

"My overseer wouldn't let me take those sorts of tools out into a desert. And if I brought it back a biological researcher with their own laboratory would probably take it off me. No Psion has ever encountered a Tortoise before. Even great scientists like Fon and Tront started their working lives in tunnels like these. If I could bring them novel data, they might take me on as a lab assistant!"

"You're interested in the biological sciences?"

"Of course! We Psions created the whole of Vega civilisation to make sure we'd always have test subjects, and I want to get my slice of it one day! I practise on Morrocks sometimes, and I can keep them alive and whole with thirty needles through them! Most Psions my age can barely manage twenty five. And I do it freehand!"

"Is that generating novel data?"

"No, of course not. Look, you're clearly from an advanced civilisation. You know that the lives of primitive barbarians don't actually matter as much as the data we can get from destroying-."

I bring my daiklave down, slicing him in half.

Ping.

Like I said: mini-DeSaads. And this is just some train driver. Given Psion lifecycles he was probably only nine or ten years old.

Ping.

Yeah, welcome to the real world.

Ping.

Hey, it's up to you, but I really doubt that they'll be any better.

I wave my right hand and the Sphere flies up alongside the gravity sledge I'm standing on, the G-Gnome in the back sensibly keeping its head down. I swing my daiklave through the sledge's control system and then sheathe the blade before climbing aboard the Spherecycle and continuing down the tunnel. Okay, yeah, that guy might not have been representative of his generation, but…

Ping.

I generate a fusion cannon on my left forearm and raise it in the direction of the oncoming drone swarm. Another reason for taking the tunnels is that they're comparatively well protected. The assumption during the design process appeared to be that a city under siege would probably be able to protect its network entrances up until its defences collapsed completely. As such, the tunnel is heavily fortified and only has internal defences at either end as you approach a city. But so they can quickly and efficiently send reinforcements, it has rather good access to their drone reserves.

I generate point defence and barrier constructs. That's the downside of attacking a city with a walking sun: plenty of fear around but most of it isn't directed against you. And I still haven't gotten the hang of making the two rings work together. Fear and avarice just don't.. mix.

The drone pack rearranges itself as they begin their attack. Hyperkinetic smart munitions are fired first, launched from around the corner as soon as the drones get into optimal firing range. I can scan.. most of them. Viral loads won't work on me, poison gas is worthless, pinhead singularity yep shoot that… More conventional munitions start slamming into my construct barriers, which… Appear to be holding as the point defences deal with anything that could kill me easily. A thin mist begins settling around the lower part of the tunnel as one of the chemical munitions pulls the oxygen out of the air, but I have an environmental shield. I could reinforce my construct barricades further, but focusing my desire on the gun seems to be a more productive focus.

Laser drones coming around the corner… Any… Moment…

Fire.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
09:35 GMT -6

I fire first, a brilliant beam of super hot ions burning down the tunnel. The drones aren't even in sight yet but the explosion as the beam hits the far side of the tunnel sends vaporised… Whatever these tunnels are made of into the drone swarm. The damage from that combined with the fact that the beam heated and ionised the air that it passed through means that the drone swarm that opens up with its direct fire weapons at me is somewhat less devastating than their factory specifications suggest that they should be.

Lasers lance through the air towards me as the Spherecycle starts flying in an evasive loop. Most are still on target, construct shields absorbing or reflecting about ninety five percent and the rest tracing lines across my body armour. Nothing like powerful enough to hurt me. Charge the gun and fire-.

AGH! Right in the-! Ow! Right in the eyes! Technically a vulnerable spot but not vulnerable enough! My construct barriers fracture, their shards flying at the drone swarm with absolute precision as I fire again and again!

Ping.

This is exactly why we don't do it like this! It's so inefficient! Gods do not fight mindless, soulless drones!

A handful of drones survive and fall back. A few of them are the ones with hyperkinetic launchers who expended their ordnance early. The others… Heavily shielded. Command relays or monitoring drones.

Hm.

Grapple.

The clamp construct flies away from me as the Spherecycle stops evading and accelerates down the tunnel. The drones attempt an evasive flight path but construct tethers move at the speed of ring calculation. A drone that's slightly bulkier than the rest is yanked out of the air and there's a crackle as its motor systems overheat and fry themselves. The Sphere fires her onboard weapons at what's left of the swarm as I drag the captured drones back towards us while simultaneously connecting the ring to Mother Box in order to get control of the thing. If this is a monitor drone it should have a connection to a control room somewhere…

Ping.

Good, thank you. Is it two way or are they just monitoring it while the drone follows a pre-programmed behavioural pattern?

Ping.

Use one of their low-grade encryption systems. I don't want them not understanding this.

Ping.

I generate a construct phone handset. "This is Grayven, who am I talking to?"

There's a brief pause as the Sphere hits another drone with her guns.

"I am General Farrn. And you are the short lived alien insect currently scurrying beneath our planet."

I dismiss the fusion cannon construct with a waggle of my arm. "Point of fact, I'm a New God from Apokolips. New Genesis is the place with the Bugs."

"I will bear that in mind. Please remain where you are so that our next wave can locate you."

Mother Box, any chance we can track his location?

Ping.

"While you're getting them ready, I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me?"

"I have no idea what a Tortoise is either. I do not perform dissections myself. Though I may condescend to spectate when a specialist goes to work on you."

"Alright, not Tortoises. How would you characterise your relationship with the local alien species?" Boast of your conquests.

"Useful brutes and test subjects, often both together. Is that why you're doing this? Altruism?"

"Sort of. I suppose that I have different ideas about the best way to operate a stellar nation."

"We created these species. We created their gods and their goddess. Their lives and civilisations are our property-."

"I doubt that's how the Citadel sees it."

"Even the new breed Citadelians are exactly what it is convenient to us that they are. And when our fleets reach.. Apokolips, I'll be certain to mention your name when I see to the slaughter of your people's armed forces and the subjugation of the survivors."

"Hah!"

"Laugh all your want. That plasma creature is already being brought down-"

Quick check. Ah, some sort of exotic matter projector. It's causing momentary flares of energy to be emitted from Brimstone's body but doesn't appear to be affecting the techno-seed at all.

"-and the tunnels are being sealed and more powerful weapon systems are being activated. And is that a power ring on your finger?"

"Yes. I wasn't sure whether using it in Vega would summon the Beast to wherever I was or not, so I thought I'd start in a place no one would miss."

"We'll be sure to be careful when we take it from your corpse. Though I will offer you a deal, alien."

"Oh?"

"It might be instructive to have your body to study. I will give you time to kill yourself. If you do that I will guarantee that your offspring will be kept alive indefinitely."

The clamp disappears and the drone drops for a moment before a new one appears to replace it.

"My offspring?"

"The small alien in the rear of your vehicle. The resemblance is obvious."

I hold the phone slightly away from my ear as I look.. back at the expressionless G-Gnome. Huh. Yes, apparently all grey people look alike.

"Does 'keeping him alive indefinitely' indicate that you'll be holding him prisoner, or that he'll be put back together every time you dismantle him?"

"Probably the latter, but it's all that you're getting."

I face front again, pressing the phone back to my ear and patting the G-Gnome lightly on the head with my left hand. "Hard luck, little guy."

"A cold and rational approach. I approve. When we take your brain apart we'll try to work out what allows you to think like that."

"I thought that you Psions had already engineered yourselves to think like me."

"There is always room for improvement. The educational phase of our lives may be essential but it isn't particularly productive."

Ping.

Yes, I spotted the implication, thank you. "You spend a great deal of time on ideological indoctrination?"

"Enough. Every single Psion would gladly cut you to pieces, and every single Psion has the intelligence required to solve the problem you and that plasma thing represent. Enjoy your last few minutes of life, alien."

He hung up. Alright, I'm not going to find anyone who fits the 'not totally evil' category in these tunnels. Mother Box, hush tube to that building we think holds their neonate culture laboratories. Let's take a look at what they look like before the indoctrination takes hold.

Ping.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
09:43 GMT -6

"A few years ago now I read a book. I don't remember what it was called, something in the Dune series. Wasn't particularly good, wasn't particularly bad, but what struck me as odd was the author's choice of focus. Previous instalments in the series had been focused on intrigues and battles for control of the planet Arrakis. In the novel I read, the planet was destroyed in a single line as part of an empire wide attack. How? Why? There were any number of possible methods and reasons which.. I would have assumed warranted a paragraph at least, something about how the forces stationed there to defend it were… Betrayed? Outnumbered? Overwhelmed by technological superiority? If the story is about a war, the reader needs enough of a description to get a sense of the war, surely?"

Neither the facility's chief educator nor the three subordinate educators appear to have any comment to make.

"So that you're aware-" A construct image appears in front of me. "-Brimstone is currently in the outskirts of the city he attacked, having bypassed the external shields-" By shoulder charging them. "-fried all of the local combat drones and incinerated the first relief force. Since there hasn't been a second relief force yet, I'm assuming that your top physicists and technologists are examining the telemetry from the previous attempts in order to try and come up with something clever."

"Which means that they're not paying attention to what I'm doing."

I fold my arms behind my back, Darkseid style, and walk over to a nearby observation window. Below, young Psions are lying in baby loungers while educational programs play on the interior of masks covering their eyes and ears. The Citadel goes in for cybernetic data uploads but it seems that Psions eschew that for something a little more low tech. Curious.

"I couldn't help but notice that you appear to have expanded your facility lately. Quite aside from the building work, your records indicate that the most recent batches are considerably larger than past batches." I half turn to face them. "Why is that?"

The senior educator glowers at me. "You're going to die, alien."

"Almost certainly." I nod. "But not today, and not by your hand. Why are you expanding?"

"I will not betray my people by giving an alien invader information."

"Why ever not? Either, I believe myself to be a moral and heroic individual and hence will not attack a non-military target, or I'm a monster and will slaughter your next generation in order to undermine your civilisation regardless of what you tell me. As such, your answer will make no difference to my actions and the most loyal thing you can do is keep me talking. Give people a chance to work out that something is off."

"I'll tell you."

I raise my eyebrows as one of the subordinate educators pipes up. Wasn't expecting that, though I suppose it's true that Psions don't have the same rigid hierarchy that some mad science species have. His superior turns his glower on him.

"You will not."

"Or what? The chance of us surviving is minimal anyway, and he's right about there not being much chance of what we say making any difference to the thing we're actually responsible for. We're resources too. Our creation, education and experience has a value and shouldn't just be discarded."

I nod. "Rational self-interest. Well done that man. So?"

"We're increasing production. Most of the children here will be sent out to create pioneer colonies in order to reduce our dependence on-"

Ping.

"-alien traders for information and test subje-."

"Lying."

"What do you mean, lying? How do you know?"

"I don't, but Mother Box is pretty good at picking up lies." I turn fully back to face them, walk a few steps towards them and crouch down. "Tell me the truth, or my telepathic little friend gets to shred your mind for the information."

He matches my stare for several moments before looking away with a snort. "Everyone will find out in a few days anyway. We finally cracked the technique our ancestors used for making X'Hal and her children. The Citadel has an army of intelligent Citadelians and a fleet prepared for a war outside of the Vega Systems. We're upping our own growth so that we can continue to serve as the technological arm of the Citadel Empire as they expand."

"I had assumed that tales of the Citadelians' simple mindedness were exaggerated."

The senior educator shakes his head. "Trust me, they're not. We were assigned to do feasibility studies on improving their indoctrination uploads. It was painful, trying to get them to learn anything. If a batch of Psions ended up like that we'd euthanize them and execute everyone else involved."

"So, the Citadel Empire expands." I create a construct image of the local stellar region. "Taking the territory of mostly single-world civilisations already in hock to one pirate group or another, then eventually running into the Crown Imperium. I thought that the pirate groups were semi-unified."

"They were." Apparently the chief educator doesn't consider it treacherous to give me information on other people. "Then the Spider Guild tried to muscle in. The Guild lost, but the weak-willed freebooters didn't want to try and take their Nest World by storm."

"No, that could be quite costly for people only interested in fighting for money."

"So they told the Queen that they'd negotiate a settlement, lured her to Rashashoon and shot her dead. The Spiders retaliated and killed the pirate leaders and now the whole area's descended into anarchy. Most of those mongrels will probably jump at the chance to work for the Citadel Empire."

The junior educator snorts. "Which is why any of that is our problem."

One of the other juniors shrugs. "Not that the Citadel needs other people for raw muscle any more."

I smile. "Or other people to do their research and development any more. Not if they're intelligent."

The senior educator rolls his eyes. "They may not be stupid but they're still Citadelians. They don't have the attitude for proper science, or even precision engineering. They'll-"

I raise my right hand and generate a construct shield.

"-need us-"

The particle beam hits my shield, flares of white, blue and pink burning and biting at the construct barrier as the drone projecting it drops stealth in order to redirect power to its weapon. I reinforce the shield and nod to the Sphere. She aims and fires repeatedly until the offending drone ceases fire and falls smouldering to the floor.

"-for…"

I dismiss the shield construct. "Reasonable effort with the weapon but I'm marking you down for the stealth." The one junior who hasn't spoken yet mutters something that might be an obscenity. "Did you think I was wearing these goggles to shade my eyes from the sun? Did you think these power rings were fakes?" They nervously watch my face. "No more talking around the subject. The indoctrination techniques you use on your young; how much direct uploads do you use?"

The lead educator makes an expression of distaste. "None. There's no way to do that sort of thing without compelling their mind states to adopt rigid structures which are completely unsuitable for our purposes. Psions need to be able to reflect on the information they're given in order to integrate it properly."

"And your cultural indoctrination?"

"It happens gradually and rationally. We teach them to value things that Psions have and other species don't. We're better than almost everyone, and we'll eventually overhaul everyone else as well."

That's… Curious.

"Who would you say is… Better?"

All four of them take on an expression of profound distaste. After a few moments pass, the senior educator raises his head slightly. "Your people clearly have advanced technology, and your physical abilities are quite remarkable. But there's only one of you, so either you're few in number or you're enhanced much further than the rest. You may be strong but your civilisation is probably weaker than ours."

Yah-huh.

"Then there are the Dominators, but their social structures are too rigid. We'll surpass them eventually."

"How about… The Guardians of the Universe?"

He shakes his head. "We have nothing but admiration for their science and technology. But they waste their time trying to nursemaid weak civilisations, and that means that their armsmen are too spread out to enforce their will properly."

Hm.

Ping.

No, but it is an opening.

"Thank you, gentlemen. You've given me a lot to think about. I'm going to leave you alive. Continue your work with my blessing." I turn away, a hush tube opening in front of me. "And do try not to get incinerated while I'm gone. I may still have a use for you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
09:48 GMT -6

Ping.

That was a little quick.

I sit on the Spherecycle, looking through a drone's sensors out of a building that was once part of the facility owned by the Psions' latest stars of biotechnology research. Now, it's a charnel house. And given that the bodies appear to have been torn apart by a long blade of some kind I think it likely that Miss Amane was responsible. Hm, yes. Ghia'ta isn't above killing people, but she stabs or shoots rather than bisecting. Or trisecting or quadsecting or… However many.

Outside, Psion drones, static defences and several of what the Psions call Variable Response Units fire, glow or otherwise radiate exotic energy. VRUs are the first step towards the New God multi-cube, an attempt to fit as much mad science as possible into something you can deploy in the field. Drones on steroids, not all that much more firepower but a whole lot more flexibility. At the moment they're throwing out a weak graviton distortion field. Not powerful, not significantly harmful, but frustratingly good at throwing off hush tubes. Amusing thing is, I think whoever is running them is just 'throwing science at the wall and seeing what sticks'. The modulation is all over the place. A boom tube is still doable, but I'd have to build a proper terminus here in order to be certain we would avoid… Misses.

Mother Box? Any predictable pattern?

Ping.

Fair enough. Keep working.

I take another look around the plaza. There's a bit too much firepower down there for me to want to just charge in and start swinging. I learned that lesson from the Thanagarians, thank you very much. Hitting and running is… Iffy. I suspect that the Psions have ways to prevent Lantern FTL, and if they haven't deployed one yet they will if I hang about. I need to get in touch with my team.

Fortunately, I have a form of communication which the Psions aren't attempting to block or monitor. I reach down, picking up the G-Gnome from the Spherecycle's back seat and then putting him on my shoulder. **Girls? How goes the work?**

**[Brief glimpse of a hurt leg.]** Miss Amane is too earnest for telepathy, really. She doesn't want me to… To think that she can't help me. **Not as easy as when we first arrived, Master. We have freed as many of the prisoners as we can, but some of the vaults are very secure. And… The hush tubes-.**

**Aren't working, I know. How many drones do you have left?**

**I… I don't know, Master. [Shame.] Ghia'ta was-.**

**Fine. You can't do everything. Ghia'ta?**

**[A kaleidoscope of a thousand instances of kindness and fellowship. Training, sparring, talking and debating. The warm oversight of their mothers and the warm familiarity of her friends.]**

I wince. Mental communication with a half-Zamaron completely devoted to love is… Not comfortable. Almost unavoidably I find myself thinking of Jade-

My environmental shield fades to almost nothing.

-every time. When we practised I.. tried to prevent Ghia'ta noticing exactly how uncomfortable an experience it is for me. I either succeeded or she was polite enough not to mention it.

**I set them to automatic. I am focusing my energies on breaching the vault where the remaining prisoners are. Your assistance would be appreciated.**

**Any sign of the princesses?**

**No, Master. Some of the other prisoners said that they were taken for final stage testing, and I assume that means they are in the place behind the vault. I.. tried to walk [shame] through it, but-.**

**Many advanced civilisations have ways of blocking that sort of thing. Do not concern yourself.**

**Yes Master.** Reassured by me, her mental voice picks up immediately. **Is it safe to use the purple ray drones on the Tamaraneans? Many of them are not in good health.**

**Probably. Ask for a volunteer. And if you have time, use one yourself; don't think I didn't feel your pain.**

**Yes Master.**

Okay. We need a tube to evacuate everyone, and once the Psions running this place… What did he say their names were? Fon and Tront, yes. Once they realise our exact capacities I imagine that they'll abandon precision and technique and just use overwhelming power to level the place. Probably holding off until we breach the vault, that's rather the point of no returns on their investment. How can I best aid our side? Given that the vaults are keeping Ghia'ta and Miss Amane out I imagine that they'll hold against an overwhelming external attack at least for a little while. Brimstone is.. over the horizon so I can't just ask him for fire support-.

Ping.

Hm. Unsurprisingly, Psions are now using weak graviton distortion fields worldwide. Bothersome. That'll make it rather harder for me to approach them…

Ping.

Yees. But without the power of the Mountain, you're rather -and I mean this in the politest way possible- short ranged.

Ping.

I was rather trying to avoid-.

Ping. Ping.

I smile.

Well. Listen to you.

Ping.

Alright, that's not a bad plan. Haven't practised much using my yellow power ring in this way-.

Corpsman. You've remembered that I exist, I see.

Tell me, Sinestro; are you able to detect the fears of those around you?

Certainly, Corpsman. Are you ready to begin your study of xenopsychology now, or would you like me to provide you with the reading list first and allow you to prepare at your leisure?

I meant, by using the yellow light.

Only when they are at the very forefront of the mind of someone within a short distance of me.

Hmm. Hopefully, the princesses are in that vault. I remember them getting powers via Psion experimentation in the comics, but… It is of course possible that I got here too late and they've been killed. Psions don't generally feel any particular need to be physically present during dangerous experiments… X'Hal was biologically Tamaranean, and from Okaaran myths and those records that survived I've got a rough idea of when she underwent apotheosis -or at least the next best thing- and it completely flattened Psion civilisation.

What would a Psion mucking around with Tamaranean physiology fear more than anything else? Another wipe out, presumably. No, no, he'd have a rough idea what happened last time too, and would have made a point of having a lot of contingencies in place. Psions are rational. Would they be worried about their place in the universe as the Citadel expands and gets its collective IQ into double figures? No. Augmented Citadelian officers are intelligent but they still don't do their own research and development. The Citadel doesn't hire Branx for that sort of thing and I doubt that the citizens of the Crown Imperium will be queuing up to take their place if their state falls to the Citadel.

Oh. Of course.

Why do the Psions even bother with the Citadel? Why do they create legions of drones? What would a Psion who had lived around Citadelians for years have become afraid of that his homebody fellows would not, having never had their comfortable confidence undermined by wider contact with other civilisations?

They'd be afraid of getting punched in the face.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
09:53 GMT -6

No matter how sophisticated we become, the psychology foisted upon us by our evolutionary history stays with us, lurking in the primitive parts of our brain. The surge of panic-soaked adrenaline that allowed Thog the Caveman to wrestle a boar to death is painfully maladaptive where modern combat is concerned, where a clear thought process and patience are more likely to be rewarded.

So, is the facility likely to have a reserve force? Probably not. I doubt that wherever their command centre is it's undefended, but I would be surprised to encounter a force capable of prolonged combat. After all, most of the facility has already been overrun and most of the slaves are… If not free, then certainly no longer confined. How far away would the overseers be? I don't think that the facility is a new build; the implication was that the owner's return to the Wombworld was a recent event but the complex has been here a while. Repurposed, then. A Psion scientist who'd newly moved into his laboratory wouldn't go on long trips away from it, not while there was science to do. They also wouldn't leave in response to a small incursion that was apparently contained, especially if the people carrying it out looked interesting.

So, still around. Focused on the action, but still worried about getting hit themselves. I bring up a map of as much of the local area as I have on file, discounting those locations which Miss Amane has already rampaged through. Psions dig, but they wouldn't have had all that much time to move without being seen… Probable locations there and there, possible places for other locations I don't know about there, there and there.

Sinestro. Show me where they're hiding.

The room discolours as my eyes shine yellow.

I'll do my best, Corpsman.

Nothing from the drones, of course. Those are either nothing like sophisticated enough for emotional resonance or in the case of the VRUs directly controlled by either the two owners of the place or their immediate subordinates. I ignore the glimmers from the slaves and sweep my gaze in the direction of the first potential hiding spot. Nothing there-. No, something. Fear of failing to achieve anything of note. Someone took a stray shot and believes themselves to be dying. Fine. Irrelevant.

Second location. Empty. Third loc-. Ahhhgh.

I stagger for a moment, blinking as I try to-. I see my home ravaged by a deranged goddess, the ancient Wombworld of the Psion's imagining flickering and being replaced with first Earth 16 and then with Earth Prime, the faces of the Psion scientists and engineers being replaced with those of my friends and family. Burning, burning all burning and screaming and running and there's nowhere to run-!

Ping.

And then I see the same thing happening to Apokolips, with Lynne's psychic might utterly humbling Darkseid and all of his court.

I stand upright, patting Mother Box with my right hand.

I knew there was a reason why I kept you around.

Ping.

It seems I was wrong about them being most afraid of being punched. Though that does raise a rather uncomfortable question. Sinestro, did you ever find out where Parallax ended up?

No, Corpsman. I did not. Until you persuaded me otherwise I had assumed that even Ion was a myth conjured up by the more theologically inclined Green Lanterns so that they could associate the green light with a divine being. Why do you ask?

Because seeing desires never had that result. I never found it overwhelming like that. I had rather been hoping that Parallax was safely contained either on Oa or Qward. But if he felt that…

Corpsman, I fear that you're suffering from delusions of grandeur. If my alter ego has been untroubled despite using a yellow ring for… Eight years now? Then I doubt that you have too great a cause for worry.

True, I suppose.

I climb back aboard the Spherecycle as I unsheathe my daiklave and generate a fusion cannon construct. I can't duel with the daiklave when wielding it one-handed but I very much doubt that will matter.

Mother Box, boom tube to that location.

Ping.

No argument this time, I'm pleased to note.

"Sphere, go."

I so often use hush tubes these days that the raw fury of the boom tube takes me a little by surprise. The sound would be deafening to a normal Human in narrow confines like these, and the brilliant flash as it opens near-blinding. And more than that, more than whatever trick the design plays with gravitons, it… Feels weightier in a way the unassuming hush tubes don't.

The Spherecycle surges through the tube aperture and a second later I'm in a storeroom of some kind that has been haphazardly converted into a command and control centre. Psions in light armour turn from their holographic interfaces and optical harnesses to stare at the glowing hole in the air. Fingers moving rapidly over drone control systems in an all-too-late attempt to recall some forces to defend them.

I raise my fusion cannon. Pulse fire only. Mother Box should be-.

Ping.

Will be perfectly capable of seizing control of these computers once their controllers are dead, but the computers need to be at least somewhat intact for that to occur. Three Psions have their chests burned to ash and cinders while a fourth has his head and left arm part company from his body with the assistance of my daiklave.

A tiny personal defence drone shoots me in the left shoulder, the particle beam being effortlessly absorbed by my environmental shield and armour. The Spherecycle pirouettes, annihilating two further drones with her blasters while I shoot a fleeing Psion in the back of his head. Two of the remaining Psions drop to their knees, tossing aside anything that could be a weapon or control device and then waving their hands to draw attention to the fact. I run the last active Psion through his chest -active really only in the sense that he was slower to remove his interface goggles and so wasn't as aware of his surroundings as his fellows- and dismount the Spherecycle, kicking his corpse from my blade and slamming it point first into the floor.

Mother Box, get to work.

Ping.

"And who might you two be?"

"Fon." / "Tront."

"Ah. You own this facility, do you not?"

They look at one another, then turn back to me.

"Yes." / "Yes."

"Good show." I pick up the G-Gnome from the back of the Spherecycle and deposit him on my shoulder as glowing yellow chains wrap themselves around the Psions and hoik them off the floor.

Mother Box, do you have control of the VRUs yet?

Ping.

Good. Use their graviton systems to block the wider area effect version from the planetary defence systems, then open a hush tube back home.

Ping.

They're the reason why the Citadelians are now clever enough to wipe their own arses without a map. They enabled the war that will be starting in a little while and they've been experimenting on enslaved sentient beings.

Ping.

No, not this time.

**G-Gnome.**

**[A-lert-ness]**

**Take everything of value from their minds, then shred whatever's left.**

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
09:57 GMT -6

Drones irrevocably sent to seek and destroy Psion manufacturing facilities, check. VRUs keeping gravity as it should be,-

Ping.

-check. Lock the instruction in place, would you? We'll be leaving shortly and I don't have any other use for them.

Ping.

Good show. Hush tube to the biotech labs.

Ping.

And last but not least. A plasma converter appears in my left hand. I give it a quick check and then toss it aside. Mother Box has done her best to erase every trace of data she could access through these systems, but I find that physical destruction pleasantly underlines the matter. That little device will suck in and fuse matter until its containment field is overloaded, at which point the whole room will be incinerated. Should be enough to eat through the first set of armoured walls as well.

I take a grip on the Spherecycle's handlebars and she accelerates through the hush tube.

Slave pens torn apart, dead Psions and destroyed equipment all decorated with a smattering of violet crystals. A small cluster of my own drones are on overwatch but I don't see-

"What is that?"

-the Tamaraneans we're here to rescue, who appear to have ducked into cover the moment I appeared.

"I'm the man organising your liberation." Mother Box, boom tube.

Ping.

And Sinestro, scan them for me, would you.

I've seen worse, Corpsman.

Considering what they've been through… Of course, these are the pre-operation slaves.

The boom tube explodes open behind me and Miss Amane precipitates out of the air in front of me even as my mouth starts to open to explain it, beaming at me with the delight of a religious fanatic before her god.

"Master!"

"Iname. The tubes are working again and I've dealt with the Psions who once ran this facility."

She nods. "As expected from you, Master."

That's one of those Japanese things, isn't it? Never mind. I point to the tube with my right arm. "I've got meals, medicine, baths and beds set up for you through there." In the room in which I usually have G-Dwarves answering my fan mail, but draw a veil over that for now. "Get going, because we're not going to be able to hold this position once the Psions pay it serious attention."

They hesitate. Huge and splashed with Psion blood as I am I doubt that I'm a reassuring figure. Miss Amane noticed it too, an almost comical frown appearing on her face as she moves her fists to her hips. "Master brought us here to free you from the Psions! Why are you refusing to let us finish rescuing you? Do you want to stay here?"

There's a brief nonverbal conversation between them, then they emerge from cover and walk towards the boom tube. Though their flesh is mostly intact -I imagine that's the result of the purple healing ray drones- there are numerous cybernetic plugs on severed limbs and empty eye sockets. The cybernetics that were presumably once attached are absent; missing legs are replaced by simple rod-and-spring prosthetics and arms and eyes are not there at all. One man has both eyes missing and is guided by one of his fellows, old and badly healed scars visible on both of them. I don't know much about how Tamaraneans age, but I'd guess… They're probably old enough to have fought with Tamaran's navy in its failed attempt to preserve their world's independence. Speaking as the Apokoliptian God of Conquest, I have to say that I consider their efforts to have been bordering on stupidity. With a token tribute to the Citadel they could have maintained their fleets and eventually simply out-produced the Citadel. As it was, they chose pride.

Predictably, that didn't end well.

"Excuse me?"

I look down. This one is younger. With burns rather than shrapnel scars and is shy one arm rather than her eyes. "Yes?"

"The princesses and.. some of the others are in the vault. Can you-?"

"Look a bit of a prat if I did all this and then left without them, wouldn't I?" Let's draw a veil over the fact that I'm mostly here for them, secondly to give the Psions a bloody nose and the other prisoners are third on my priority list at best. I climb off the Spherecycle. "Sphere, reconfigure yourself into something that can conveniently carry casualties. Iname, get the Tamaraneans settled in."

Miss Amane dashes through and the Sphere beeps, lands and curls up into a ball as I use my aero-discs to rise into the air. Now, to the vault.

The slave pit was arranged in a cluster of four hemispheres with individual cells built into the sides. From the wreckage and Psion corpses I'm going to assume that the column in the centre was a control post of some kind before my people smashed it. A heavy duty.. 'lid' has been blasted apart and the plasma shield generators still have the violet crystals which destroyed them embedded in them. I fly over a few Psions with the distinct bruise pattern which indicates they died from a purple death ray shot and head in the direction of the glowing violet light.

"For Zamaron!"

Ghia'ta shoves her crystal spear at the vault door point first, a wave of violet energy passing through the material to no apparent effect. Wisps of violet light dance around her as she continues to exert herself.

"Any joy?"

"Not yet."

Odd. She's had time. Psion technology shouldn't be-.

That isn't Psion technology, Corpsman. I told you that you should have consulted with the Weaponers. It appears that the Psions did not share your reservations.

Wonderful. And the walls, floor and ceiling are all made of the same material. Mother Box?

Ping.

Can't boom tube or hush tube, can't hack it, can't easily break it… Knowing the Qwardians qwa-matter would probably do the job… The Weaponers have been fighting Lanterns for so long that I'd be astonished if emotional spectrum-based technology did anything very much…

A hush tube appears next to me and a blaster drone floats through. I lay my hand on its chassis as its gun deploys.

Cast down their fortresses.

A beam of brilliant orange lances out… And achieves precisely nothing.

"Okay, I guess we're doing this the stupid way." I draw my daiklave-.

Ghia'ta frowns. "Wouldn't your god-killer sword be a better choice?"

"Qwardians don't use magic and this vault isn't alive." Almost certainly. "'Killing' it wouldn't make it crumble and cutting through the mass would probably take longer than we have. Stand back."

She floats back, spear held in a guard position.

NONE SHALL DEFY ME!

I take the daiklave in a two-handed grip and swing it into the vault door, the Nth Metal edge biting a good fifty centimetres into the material of its construction before being arrested. I pause for a moment before pulling back, letting the ring show me the state of the surrounding streets. The drones I sent on the rampage have attracted a response but that response isn't coming this way yet.

I draw the blade back for another swing.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
11:11 GMT -6

Infuriating.

Clunk!

Turtling.

Clank!

Psions!

Clang!
I am unstoppable!
Fina-fucking-lly! I drop my daiklave to the side, raise my right leg and kick the section of the door I've been working on, sending it sailing into the room beyond! Ignoring the Sphere's warbles I duck my head and stalk forward into the chamber beyond, raising a construct tower shield to block any potential attack.

Mother Box, seize control of the local-.

Three turrets fade into view, one on the wall to my right, one to the left and one on the ceiling. I move to fortify my environmental shield as the turrets activate. A wide.. turquoise.. wavy aura thing links them to one another for a second and then they fire, surrounding me in that same aura. Okay, doesn't seem to be doing any-?

I'm lifted off my feet almost gently, my movements becoming more and more difficult. And there's a weight on my skin. Not painful yet, but certainly… Strange. I move my right hand up so that I can watch my fingers as I make a fist. It's not so much hard as it is awkward.

Alright, bored now. My victory is inevitable!

My armour surges with orange light as I throw my arms wide, dropping to the ground as I overload whatever that was. The turrets crackle and burn out as I drop to the ground. Mother Box, what was that?

…

Huh?

I look down at my left hip where she's attached to my faulds. Ooh no. Her outer case is cracked and slightly crumpled and her lights are dim. Shit. Ah, Sinestro?

Completely beyond me, Corpsman. I suggest focusing more on current events.

Right. Damn.

"Are you hurt?"

I half turn, frowning as I take in Ghia'ta's concerned expression. "No, but Mother Box is. I don't suppose you know anything about-?"

"That.. was a graviton field. Qwardians use those to bypass environmental shields. It was most likely intended to crush you."

"I am pretty tough, even without the rings." I turn back to the vault and start onwards. Nothing I can do for Mother Box for now.

The first room on the left appears to be a morgue, storage for the slaves they've 'used up' but not gotten around to dissecting. Some have injection plugs in their arms and on their chests. Others look like they've been burned all over, the skin blistered and... Burned from inside?

I drop another plasma converter and then turn away. I know what the princesses look like and they're not here.

The room opposite is the dissection laboratory. Oddly, it seems to have been in recent use but there's no body. Perhaps they'd just finished work on someone? M-. Sinestro, can you access their records?

If power rings could subvert Qwardian systems, Corpsman, our conflict with them would have been far shorter.

Wasn't ring-you made by a Qwardian?

Yes, but he didn't give me unlimited access to all of his systems. He wasn't an idiot.

A reasonable point, but I would have thought that accessing them wouldn'toof!

The fist catches me in the left of my chin, knocking me sideways and forcing me to do a sort of stagger-hop in order to remain upright. What the-? I swing my left arm in a wide arc, trying to hit whoever that was-. No, no one towagh! My face slams into the wall hard enough for me to actually feel a small amount of pain. Something hit me in the back of the head and knocked me forwards. I'm more irritated than hurt. Turn around. Predictably, no one. Okay, the goggles would pick up most forms of invisibility, phasing and shapeshifting. Sinestro, teleportation jam.

As you wish Corpsman, though I suspect that it will not be that easy.

And armour.

"Ghia'ta, be careful. There's someone-." She hurtles past the doorway out of control, cracks clearly visible in her armour.

I don't bother running or changing my posture, I just have the ring drag me into the corridor. For a fraction of a second I see the figure of a man standing there, then there's a faint waft of blue as he vanishes. Sinestro, I thought we were blocking teleportation.

I am jamming most commonly used forms of target acquisition and reassembly, Corpsman. That is not the same as blocking everything.

Can you block some more stuff?

Naturally, Corpsman. But without knowing exactly what we're facing there is very little point. The probability of me selecting at random the form of teleportation which your opponent is using is minimal, and it will drain me at a far faster rate than that to which you are accustomed.

I put my back to the wall, trying to watch both directions. "Ghia'ta? Are you hurt?"

"Only a little." She rises, armour glowing as it mends itself. "Was that a Psion weapon?"

Sinestro, show me what I saw.

A ghostly construct image appears to my right. Standard pattern humanoid, tall… There's a decent amount of muscle there, along with the signs of malnutrition. Details not good enough for scars to appear. No hair on his head… If he's here then he's probably Tamaranean. I suppose it would have been foolish to assume that the princesses were the only ones they experimented o-.

The figure appears directly in front of me, right fist swinging for my face. His skin is a dull red-brown, his eyes glow a dull green and I use my ring to shove myself into him! His fist misses my head by the narrowest margin as I knock him back and then a beam of violet light strikes him in the side of his chest. He doesn't wince as he fades into blue mist.

"Check the other rooms now!"

She's on my heels as I fly down the corridor, then breaks left as I break right. Some sort of bier with multiple radiation emitters pointing at it, a shielded area for the ones performing the experiment-.

I see a tiny puff of blue in the corner of my eye and I'm already yanking myself out of the way as he swings his right fist at me again. I fire two yellow beams from my eyes and he vanishes once more as they hit him.

"He was here!"

No prisoners or information. Next room. I fly back into the corridor-

"Stop!"

-as a wall of violet crystal erupts from the room Ghia'ta was checking. The man appears to have his left arm and leg trapped on the room-side part-. Excellent. I go past that, down the corridor and into the next room on the left. A Tamaranean man-. Yes, it's him. He's suspended in a tank with some sort of neural interface attached to his head. Some sort of psychic projection device? Don't know, don't care.

"Why are you attacking us?"

Killing him would be quickest and safest-

-but…

Sinestro, do you understand this technology?

Not perfectly, Corpsman, but there are only so many ways to control a humanoid brain..

Disconnect him.

A beam of yellow light punches through the transparent force field covering the front of the tank as a new gun forms on my left forearm. I point it at the man's chest. No sense in taking foolish risks.

Sinestro?

Disconnected, Corpsman. But he's had quite a bit of work done. I don't know whether or not his mind is whole..

Have to do. "Ghia'ta, has he vanished?!"

"Yes."

I nod. "Good. Sphere!" I hear her revving, then a moment later she rolls in through the doorway. "Give him full medical aid, but do not take him to the Mountain until we know that he's compos mentis."

She beeps, then unrolls into some sort of vaguely insectoid clamp thing. She floats up and attaches herself to the tank the man is imprisoned in, her lights flickering in time with those of the device. Fine.

I step out into the corridor as Ghia'ta does the same, crystals decaying and flaking in her wake. Only one room left. I lead the way inside, grinning as I see the two animation suspension tanks containing the two women I came here to rescue. Excellent.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
12:37 GMT -6

"Excuse me! Hello!?"

The Okaaran encampment on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest of Weeds would appear surprisingly deserted to anyone who lacked a power ring. As it is I can clearly see the terrified forms of the garrison as they huddle in the fortified cellars each of the buildings possesses. I'm not sure whether doing that would actually put off a wandering Construct Lantern -much less Larfleeze himself- but I suppose that getting out of sight would give the hider a degree of psychological protection.

"If someone doesn't answer me really soon I'm going to drag someone out!"

My aura switches from orange to yellow for a moment, but swiftly turns back. I suppose… With the Central Power Battery so close, I shouldn't be surprised. Sinestro has been uncharacteristically quiet on this leg of the journey as well. Ah, a camera! I turn to face it and raise my right hand in greeting. Honestly, I thought that Okaaran soldiers had a bit more grit than-.

A trapdoor over to my left is thrown open and an Okaaran male hesitantly clambers out. And given how big Okaarans are it's an almost comical sight.

"Finally, some service!"

His hands cradle his particle beam while his stance clearly indicates that he believes that it will avail him exactly naught. He doesn't even bother pointing it at me as he finally puts his fear aside to face me.

"B-beast. What do you want?"

I frown. "Beast? Oh, yes, that's what you people called him, wasn't it? Here." I toss the slightly soggy sack to him. He fumbles the catch, nearly dropping his gun as well as he momentarily can't decide between grabbing the bag and letting it fall. He pauses, then clamps the gun to his armour before crouching down to pick up the sack. "I think you'll find everything in order."

He opens the sack and immediately relaxes. "Heh. You looking to turn in a bounty?"

"Among other things, yes."

"We don't handle that here." He stands, pulling Larfleeze's severed head out of the sack as he does so. "You'll need to head west about forty miles, there's a bureau in Kasagn that can arrange payment. Who was he, anyway?"

"The Beast."

He looks at me directly, his eyes narrowing. "Fuck you. Yeah, it's all very funny, walking up here with glowing orange armour and scaring the spit out of us, but the joke's had its day."

"Oh, I'm not joking." I raise my left fist so that he can see the sigil on the orange ring around my ring finger. "See?"

He manages not to drop the head, but that's mostly because his hands have locked up, along with the rest of his body.

"The head belongs to a man named Larfleeze who made his home on this planet long before your species existed. He was essentially a sort of insane, super-powerful Lantern. But he was also kind of stupid and didn't have anything blocking teleportation into his cave."

I was a little worried when his eyes opened as I stepped through, but his reflexes weren't anything special and the Sword of the Fallen turned off his orange light abilities as soon as it pierced his skin. At least, I assume that it did given that he didn't use them. I seem to remember that in the comics what he really wanted was to be rid of his orange ring permanently, so, maybe that had something to do with it. Don't know, and.. it probably doesn't matter now.

"I… That's, ah…"

"But I'm going to have to ask you not to check it yourself for a few days. I don't think that I got all of his slaves-" Though I did get most of them. They became quite indolent after Larfleeze himself fell. Perhaps it would have been worth keeping a few for their knowledge, but… I don't think that the potential gains outweigh the sheer horror of keeping someone in that state. "-and there are one or two other items that should be made safe by someone who knows what they're doing."

Like the Orange Central Power Battery. I stared at it in a trance for several minutes until Ghia'ta created a pink crystal around my head. Definitely something that needs careful handling by someone who knows what they're doing with power ring technology. In case the Okaarans -or anyone else- don't heed my verbal warning I left the drones which survived my attack on Wombworld with instructions to shoot dead anyone who isn't on their 'friends' list.

"Yes, of… Course." He hesitates again, then covers the head back up. "I… Once we've… Confirmed that what you say is true, we can authorise payment. I.. have.. no idea how much the bounty on the Beast is. Think we.. kind of assumed that no one would ever claim it."

"That's fine. I'm not in a rush. But I remember a clause about becoming the owner of his property?"

"Oh, yeah, you now have legal title to the whole lot. Whatever's there, it's now yours. Assuming you can hold onto it."

"I am somewhat familiar with the politics of the Vega Systems. Do you need anything else from me?"

"Ah…" He looks away from me in the general direction of one of the shelters. Probably the one where his commanding officer is hiding. "Who.. are you?"

"My name is Grayven."

"And… Your species? Where are you from?"

"Various places." I look around. Still no one else sticking their head out. "Though I intend to spend some time on Tamaran while I'm in Vega." I turn away, walking towards the forest edge. "I'll let you know when you can do your inspection."

Sinestro, connect to the Mountain and order a hush tube.

… Yes, Corpsman.

A hole in space opens in front of me and I step through into the space station the Gordanians were using to enforce their control of Tamaran. I can see three bodies, the armour covering their torsos burned through by the sisters' 'star bolts'. No stun effects here, thank you very much. If Koriand'r or Komand'r throw plasma at you then you get burned.

And speaking of the devil. Koriand'r flies into view, her newly granted solar-powered abilities making her hair look like it's on fire. Green plasma churns around her hands without burning them, a fascinating phenomenon which I will ask to study at some later time when it isn't quite as massively insensitive as it is now. When she sees me she halts in the air and adopts a more upright position. "Is your work done?"

I nod. "Larfleeze is dead, his slaves are at rest. I've got my drones looking after his cave. You?"

"My sister and I have placed the remaining Gordanian slavers in the cages from which we rescued their prisoners."

Quick bit of mental maths… "Not that many surrendered, then."

"If they had wanted us to make efforts on their behalf then they should have treated us less monstrously."

"Oh, I'm not criticising. I said 'do what you like' and I meant it. Is Komand'r around?"

"She is with our prisoners."

I nod. Sinestro, another tube. if you please.

Certainly, Corpsman. Is it too much to hope that you may be planning on offering either of these women yellow rings?

If you know where your alter-ego keeps his reserves I'll consider it.

In front of me the hush tube opens and I step through, Koriand'r floating in behind me.

I seem to remember that you intended to offer me to Miss Nguyen.

I knew her better. And I already have orange rings. But, if we happen across any yellow rings then I will give them due consideration.

Very well, Corpsman.

Komand'r stalks between the cells in the slave holding area, purple plasma crackling around her hands. I'm not sure why the two sisters generate different colours. Logically, the method used to give them both the ability would be the same, so shouldn't it be the same colour? Most of the Gordanians in the cells are either very young or very old. I always assumed that Koriand'r would be the nicer of the two, but I suppose that doesn't mean that she would be inclined to have mercy on the undeserving.

"Princess Komand'r, good to see you again. I have another offer for you and your sister that I'd very much like you to consider."

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
16:25 GMT -6

King Myand'r watches me from the settee on the other side of a low-set table. I lean forwards and pick one of the small… Nuts? Seeds? Out of the bowl resting on it. I hold it just in front of my face for a moment, taking it in. It's pale purple in colour and it feels quite tough. I slowly push it into my mouth, chewing contemplatively as I raise my eyebrows in King Myand'r's direction.

Out of the formal setting of our initial meeting he's dispensed with his ceremonial armour. I had wondered about that in the comics; supermodel girl Tamaranean goes around in a bikini. What do the men wear? Because I know how that sort of thing usually goes. It's like: if Apokoliptians are all bisexual then why is it that the only one we ever see being bisexual is the hot female Amazonesque one?

And now I know. Thongs. No double standard here at all. There are thigh boots and a cape and a strange sort of half-mitre hat and a truly colossal beard -seriously, you could lose a sheep in that thing- that is loosely bound into a plait beneath his chin and a veritable bush of red hair exploding outwards in all directions from the top of his head. He very nearly has the physique to pull off the look, rugged without having bodybuilder definition.

I keep chewing. It's got the texture of a hazelnut, but the flavour is… More… Apricot? The oil has a definite fruity tang to it. It's nice. Could be an export market there.

"What do you want with my people?"

Some of that Tamaranean directness, there. I reach forward to take another of these snack things. "What makes you think I want anything?"

"Bitter experience. Tamaran has a wealth of experience with alien warlords." No anger, no fear. Just… Resignation. And crunchy apricot. I reach forwards again and take two-. "Just take the bowl."

"Thank you." I pick up the bowl and deposit it in my lap. "Alright, what do the… The Gordanians get out of it now?"

"Five hundred units a year. Their years, ours are slightly shorter."

I nod. "Okay. And what do you think I'm going to ask?"

He regards my face for a moment. "The optimistic voice in my head says four hundred and ninety nine. The pessimistic voice says five hundred and one."

I pantomime curiosity. "Five hundred and one?"

"A Thalox cannot pull a mountain, no matter how many sticks you give it."

"Wise.. words indeed." I have no idea what a Thalox is. No Apokoliptian or Kryptonian has ever studied Vegan natural history. But having flown over Tamarus the meaning of the metaphor is clear enough. It's a crumbling third world dump. And this is their capital. As they are, they literally can't pay more. "But I'm not going to demand five hundred." He tenses slightly. "I'm going to demand two hundred-" He relaxes slightly, believing that I'm reducing his tribute by more than half. "-billion. Yes. Two hundred billion units." Whatever they are.

His eyes widen, bushy red eyebrows doing their best to hide themselves under his fringe. "Two hundred billion?"

"Two hundred billion."

We stare at each other for a moment.

"Tamaran does not have two hundred billion units, nor anything like two hundred billion. When I was a youth, I was taken to Citadel and shown their treasure vaults as an intimidation tactic and I do not think that they had two hundred billion units. I do not think that I can imagine two hundred billion units."

"I'm not asking you to imagine it." I swallow the oils and try to work out if the flesh has any significant flavour. Slightly.. salty..?

"I can't give you what I don't have."

I nod. Do Tamaraneans nod? Koriand'r did, but she might just have been trying to mirror my body language. "So..? You're a king. Presumably your elevation didn't come as a complete surprise. Presumably you had some sort of education in economics. You need to acquire two hundred billion units. How do you intend to go about it?"

He blinks heavily, head pulling back slightly. "It.. would.. require a complete revitalisation of the Tamaranean industrial base."

I nod encouragingly. "Okay..?"

"Educational programs would have to come first. The Gordanians destroyed anything that looked like a school."

"Really?" Accursed space barbarians. Ex-space barbarians.

He nods unhappily. "We adapted. Small classes for primary education, held in people's homes. Apprenticeships for higher education. Our remaining libraries are more secure than our armouries. But there just aren't enough people with the knowledge we would need. And those who have it… A lot of it is just theoretical. Building anything that looked like an industrial base was an invitation-."

"To an orbital strike." I nod. "I'm seeing a pattern. And Komand'r told me about…" I turn my head to the right, looking out of the palace window and across the city to the area where the buildings just… Stop.

"We would have to rebuild our electronics industry, revitalise our transportation… And those are simply the economic matters. Holding the state together during the transition would be extraordinarily difficult with all of the new pressures that would inevitably develop. I cannot imagine that Kalapatt would meekly accept the concentration of knowledge and expertise in Tamarus that the program would require."

I hold up my right hand, my left ferreting around the bowl for more crunchy thingies. "Focus on the economic."

"As an industrial state, Tamaran might be able to pay two hundred billion units eventually, but-."

"No, keep going."

"We were not permitted to keep any spacecraft, and the Gordanians were thorough in their destruction of all space orientated technology. It could take twelve generations before we could build back up to our former levels. Is that what you want? I had assumed that the Gordanians would have mined out the asteroid fields by now."

I shake my head. "They made a cursory effort in a couple of places. Negligible, really."

"Is that where you're expecting us to get it from?" He stops focusing on me quite so intently. "I suppose there might be two hundred billion units' worth of wealth in the asteroids. We never surveyed them in any great detail."

"So if I want to get paid, you'll need a way to spread higher education very quickly, you need heavy industrial equipment and.. maybe a space based shipyard or two?"

"Oh yes. And perhaps if X'Hal is feeling bountiful she could return my brothers to life while she is raining down her blessings. What do you want from us, Lord Grayven?"

I tap the fingers of my right hand against the surface of the table. Some sort of polished stone, I think. "As you are now, you cannot give me anything I want. Therefore, as an investor in your civilisation, it behoves me to assist you in extracting yourself from the pit the Citadel and their Gordanian friends dropped you into. Among my allies are a species who can telepathically deposit information in people's minds. I believe that I can persuade them to make themselves available to you."

"And what do they want?"

"Do you have an island you're not using? I'd like to give them their own world, but I don't have one of those at the moment. An isolated region where they can learn to live self sufficiently would be the next best thing."

"There… May be one."

"Excellent. One problem down. I'm confident I can lay my hands on some advanced equipment… The occasional alien expert or two… To assist with the reindustrialisation. Your daughters caught three ships in orbit, and once we're done with them you can chop them up for parts. Or put them to use yourself."

King Myand'r shakes his head. "The Citadel would never tolerate-."

I look at the back of my right hand, having my yellow ring flare. "Why don't you let me worry about the Citadel? I'm certain that we can… Come to terms."

He takes a deep breath. "Even if you can provide that aid, it could well be generations before we can pay you such a sum."

"My life span is indefinite. And I think that I can make something of this place."

He regards me once more. I suppose he hasn't previously experienced anyone behaving in quite the way I am. "'Make something' of Tamaran?"

"Yes." I nod thoughtfully. "How would you feel about me basing a Lantern Corps here?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
18:57 GMT -6

Hm. I walk out into one of the courtyards that form part of the palace grounds. That went… Reasonably well. I take another Deca seed out of the bowl with my right hand and put it into my mouth. Then I hesitate. I've eaten rather a lot of these. Okay, in my youth I could finish off a packet of chocolate fingers in a single sitting, but now I'm…

Mother Box, can New Gods get-?

Ah.

Yes.

Well, that killed the mood. I'll get Scott to have a look at her just as soon as I'm finished here. I put the bowl down on the low wall running around the fountain in the centre of the courtyard and take a proper look around. It's a big place, but it's mostly bare stone and I strongly doubt that property or land prices are particularly high around here. It's lit by braziers of burning wood. There should be… I don't know, mosaics or something. A fresco showing scenes from Tamaranean mythology. I'm not exactly Mister Conspicuous Consumption myself, but… Really, if your palaces aren't at least a little ostentatious, how can anyone take you seriously?

You know, I think-.

"You were talking to Father for a long time." I look up as Komand'r descends from the sky, hair billowing around her as if buoyed up by a bonfire. It still strikes me as chimeric; where her sister's hair is a uniform red-orange Komand'r has different tones, orange darkening to brown-amber towards the edge of each curl. As for the rest of her… Her hair is kept from her face by a plain steel tiara, while the rest of her clothing might generously be described as a mini-dress made of blue cloth. Something she owned from before her enforced absence? It's not really traditional Tamaranean fare. Her feet are covered by wood and hide sandals. No stiletto heel, but the back is slightly built up.

"We had a good deal to discuss. And he's.. quite pleasant company." I look her over once more as she lands, her hair falling about her shoulders as she stops exerting her abilities. "Given up on the ring already?"

She turns her nose up slightly, looking back into the palace. "I want my people to see me flying under my own power as a Tamaranean should."

I nod placidly. The wonders of Psion medical research. "May I ask if you have made a decision on whether to keep it or not?"

She jerks her head back around. "Why do you ask like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like the result of the decision is not totally in your power."

I close my eyes, shaking my head. "That is not how I -or the orange rings- work." I look to the side, sighting an open area of the plaza and then wanting a construct-chair into being. I really do get on better with an orange ring for things like that than I do with Sinestro.

Simply a matter of practice and application, Corpsman.

I sit down, taking a moment to get comfortable before looking up at Komand'r. Her arms are crossed just under her breasts, pushing them up and inwards slightly. Her weight slightly more on her right hip than her left, emphasising the lithe muscularity of her physique.

…

No, no, it's not working. Stage 2 is still some way off.

"The ring empowers you to do what you want. To be what you want. Demanding obedience from another ring user doesn't work."

"You think that I would hesitate to do whatever Tamaran needs?"

I shake my head. "Why would I want you to be weaker than you could be?"

Her face hardens, her eyes glow and her hair roils in the air around her head. "You dare call me weak?"

"I did not call you weak. Though purely as a point of information, if I thought you weak I would most certainly dare to call you weak. I asked, why would I want you to be weaker than you could be? If you served me under sufferance your constructs would be far weaker than if you worked with me because you want the same end that I do."

He hair calms slightly, though her eyes still glow lime green. "And what end is that?"

I lean back into my chair construct, relaxing fully and closing my eyes. "A resurgence of Tamaranean strength. I see a.. potential, here, that is not being productively channelled."

"What, you wish for us to become your.. warriors? As the Gordanians are for the Citadel?"

I smile. "Oh, no. I would have fallen beyond all redemption if I failed that badly."

"Speak plainly then. All Tamarus knows that you spent the day negotiating our future with my father. What did you demand as the terms for our new servitude?"

I narrowly open my eyes and hold out my right hand, palm upwards. "If you want an artisan to carve you a stone bench, do you give him a chisel and hammer..? Or… A plasma cutter, or.. whatever Tamaranean masons use? Or do you instead break his arms and legs and put out his eyes?"

"You give him tools, of course."

"Give him tools." I nod. "Princess Komand'r, at my worst, I would recognise that fact. I am the Apokoliptian God of Conquest and the Gordanians and their Citadel masters offend me most profoundly. They have had you under their guns for.. two generations now? And they have done nothing with you."

"They have done many things with me and my sister."

"That is not what I meant. I mean, with your society. They have brutalised you but they have not conquered you. They have not even tried. They have made no attempt to integrate you into their society at all. They have not even attempted to exterminate you and settle your world for themselves. All the resources you possess and they take… Paltry amounts of money? All the things you could productively do for them and all they can think to do is keep you too weak to do any of them. Pathetic, barbaric stupidity."

I shake my head. "No, they've got to go. The whole pack of disappointing failures have to go." I look her in the eyes and smile faintly. "And then your lot can have a go at it instead."

Respect to her, she takes a moment to consider what I'm saying. "With you as our ruler?"

"Though that could work -the Gordanians are effectively ruled by the Citadel Emperor and they've flourished- but… No. I'll be.. around, I have my own interests to serve… But as I said-."

"If we do not want it for ourselves, we would not be able to use your rings as well." I nod, and she frowns. "But you claim to be a God of Conquest."

"There are more ways to conquer a place… A people, than with brute force. I will be a shaping force in Tamaranean society, encouraging it to develop in ways beneficial to me. A more subtle application of my domain than perhaps you are used to."

She stares at me for a moment, then shakes her head. "Even if you could destroy every Gordanian ship in the Vega Systems, you would still have-."

"The Branx, the Psions and the Citadel Fleet itself to deal with." I lean forwards. "The Branx have the best organisation and discipline. The Psions are scientists and engineers with few peers and the Citadel has an entrenched position and excellent fortifications. All together they stand between Tamaran and greatness. So I ask you, Princess Komand'r: what do you want?"

"I want them gone. I want their worlds to burn, their people dead or dying. I wish to place my boot upon the neck of the Citadel Emperor and-" The area around her right hand crackles with glowing purple plasma as she balls her hand into a fist. "-burn off his face for what he has done to my people!"

"We can do that." I nod. "We can do that. What else?"

"Tamaran needs to be stronger." She opens her right hand, allowing the energy she'd built up to dissipate. "I will not tolerate us ever being in this situation again."

"And to do that?"

"Industry. Technolo-" A mote of orange light streaks through the air as her ring comes to a halt just in front of her. "-gy."

"I was thinking of taking some of that from the Citadel Complex's smouldering remains." I raise my eyebrows. "Interested?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
19:27 GMT -6

Recruitment stage two.

I had assumed that my Corps could limp on without a Maltusian, just staying in the Vega region and recharging directly from the Orange Central Power Battery. Guy told me that he never had any problem recharging from the Green Central Power Battery, and I've never had much of a problem with the orange light's addictive qualities. Personal lanterns would be better and we'd need them eventually, but they weren't a priority.

Having actually encountered the Orange Central Power Battery now, I'm forced to conclude that that isn't a viable option. If the blasted thing could entrance me then I'd dread to think of the effect of putting it on an inhabited planet.

…

Maybe that's a bit much. The Okaarans have had it on their planet for the entirety of their history and while I don't consider their present civilisation as something I'd want to emulate they aren't crazy avarice monsters. But I want to put it in -or at least near- a major city, and that will be rather different to Larfleeze's hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere.

So. While Koriand'r oversees the disbursement of the prisoners and Komand'r reviews Tamaran's census records, Ghia'ta and I step through a hush tube and out into a Maltusian street. Airborne vehicles fill the air above us and tall buildings form a respectful circle around the Controllers' centre of operations, and through windows or just walking around I can see individuals from -quick head count- seventeen different species. Armoured caterpillars appear to be the most numerous, but the partial database I took from Jordan marks several of the others as belonging to species whose worlds the Reach has overrun.

"You're confident that this is the right place?" Because wouldn't that be embarrassing.

Ghia'ta nods, taking in our surroundings without much concern. "Yes. The building was constructed before the peoples of Maltus separated. My aunt told me that she used to visit it frequently."

I take another look around. We don't seem to have set off any alarms… "Remind me: what sort of terms are the Zamarons and the Controllers on?"

"We have little to do with one another. I have never met a member of another Maltusian faction." She gives me a nervous smile. "I am looking forward to serving as an Ambassador between our peoples."

"Well spoken, sister."

I look up as a blue skinned man in red, orange and yellow robes descends from the sky. And why his robes aren't flapping around his face due to air resistance I don't know. I suppose that when you're as powerful as Maltusians are supposed to be little things like that are just beneath you. He lands lightly, smiling at us-. No, at Ghia'ta as he does so.

"Or should I say niece? I hadn't realised that our Zamaron sisters were breeding."

"Niece would be more accurate. I am far less powerful than my aunt or her sisters."

"Your aunt?" He tilts his head slightly to the side. "Aga'po?"

"Yes!" Ghia'ta's smile is almost painful in its earnestness. "Do you remember her?"

"I never knew her well, but I do remember her. Tell me, are you-?"

"Sorry to interrupt-" I'm not. "-but I'm here to speak to the Controllers. Are you one?"

He focuses on me, and I can feel something push against my divine resistance. "And an Apokoliptian." And he looks notably less happy about it. "Curious. Is your maleficent overlord turning his attention in our direction?"

"Don't know, don't care. Controllers?"

"You are aware that the Controllers represent only a minority of the Maltusian population? "

"Fine. Do you know anything about orange power rings?"

"Power rings were never my field of study. You should probably talk to Krona, that was always more his sort of thing."

"I'm reasonably sure that the Guardians executed Krona for trying to look at the alpha event and fucking up the universe."

"Oh." He negligently waves his left hand. "Then try Ganthet."

"Ganthet's a Guardian, I'm an Apokoliptian. If I go to Oa with an orange ring and a yellow ring they'll thank me for my time and destroy them both. And possibly me along with them. They certainly wouldn't help me."

"And Hinon can't help so it looks like you're out of luck. Oh well, never mind." He returns his attention to Ghia'ta. "Do you intend to stay long? There are some lovely parklands to the south of here where we've recreated the original-."

"Hinon who?"

"Hinon Hee Hannanan, and I doubt very much that my Controller brothers would let you see her, especially carrying a piece of the Anti-Life Equation."

"Never heard of her, and if you can get it out of me you'll have my thanks."

He shakes his head. "I'm afraid that isn't my field of study. If you would like-?"

"To talk to someone capable of being helpful?" I turn away, striding in the direction of the Controllers' building. "Yes. Have fun, Ghia'ta."

I hear her sigh. "Grayven, you are being you again."

"Yeah, well, this guy just told me he didn't know anything useful and couldn't help. I've got no reason to waste time on him." Hm. There's been some nice landscaping here. The colours of the leaves and flowers are a nice complement to the-.

The Maltusian man zips through the air to take up station just ahead of me, floating backwards to maintain the distance between us. "They won't let you in, especially if you try treating them as rudely as you are me."

"They're useful, you're not, I have a Central Power Battery."

He stops in surprise, barely managing to drift out of my way as I stride past. "You have a what?"

"The Orange Central Power Battery. It's mine, I own it, but it needs a service. Three billion years, one careless owner. I assume that you're incapable?"

"I don't know enough about the Central Power Battery, no. You would need to speak to Hinon directly."

"Excellent." I take the steps up to the front entrance two at a time. "Then I'll know who to ask for. Thank you for your help, you may be on your way."

He flits ahead again-. I'm not going to get rid of him, am I? "I can take you to her, but I doubt that she'll be able to give you what you want."

"If a leading expert can't make a power ring then I'm never coming back here because you're all totally worthless."

"She's been in a coma for… Let us say three billion years."

"What a remarkable coincidence." I reach the front door and give it a push. No, not moving. Hm. YOU WILL NOT DEFY ME!

The doors explode inwards, granting me access to what looks like a fairly generic-looking office lobby. I smile smugly to myself as I stride inside, two… Oh, that's what proper Controllers look like, looking up. They don't appear to be alarmed. Actually, they look somewhat vacant. Bah, I have the name of the one I want.

"You, purple guy on my left. I'm here to speak to Hinon Hee Hannanan. Which way?"

"Our sister is not here for your entertainment, Apokoliptian. And I-." He stops for a moment, the jewel thing on his forehead glimmering. "Or perhaps I am mistaken. Please, follow me."