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

[Mr Zoat]

30th April 2013
10:56 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How do they work?"

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

I sigh quietly.

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

"I think they've had enough nightmares."

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

"What about the rest?"

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about records?"

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

"What about the Green Lantern Corps?"

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

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

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

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

"I will."

I

step out, looking for

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

"Any news?"

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

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

"Something like that."

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

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

 

[Mr Zoat]

25th December 2282
13:08 GMT -6

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

I'm looking down at the parade now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**A song? A song!**

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

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

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

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

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

All part of the fun.

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

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

"War Chief Thunderbird. Merry Christmas."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You release your slaves and prohibit slavery."

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

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

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

I shrug. "As you wish."

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

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

"Targets received, missiles away."

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

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

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

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

"Convoy destroyed. Bring in the transports."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Working Relationship

April 18th, 2013
Morning

"Mitchell?"

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

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

"Grandma?"

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

"What are you studying?"

"Families."

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

"I-. I mean-."

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

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

Gratifyingly, he does.

"It's-. Amazons have… Mothers."

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

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

"To… Avoid incestuous pairings later in life."

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

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

"And your dad?"

"Ares."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you think..?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

"Do you want to talk to Lex Luthor?"

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

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

"Weird?"

"Outlandish."

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

"Which thing in particular are you thinking about?"

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

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

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

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

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

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd November 1999
03:46 GMT
Because local time isn't Earth time and goa'uld aren't big on precise timekeeping.

Second Prime Abrax salutes fist-to-chest as Lord Mahes enters the courtyard, followed by his First Prime. Lord Agni smiles when he sees him, and walks over to greet him.

"Mahes! Have you been innovating?"

Mahes grins as he approaches, then grabs him by the shoulders. Then they hug each other, which is… Just about the most ungoa'uld thing I've ever seen. I mean, sure, I fixed the lesion's in Agni's brain when he turned up for the meeting, but that wouldn't change how Mahes behaved.

"No!" They separate, and Mahes pulls Agni in my direction gesturing to me. "I got someone to do it for me!"

"You'd need to." His eyes take in Abrax and then move to me.

"This is Lord Mammon. He has many interesting ideas. We're here to see if any of them are actually any good."

I nod. "I would not waste your time. If-."

Stomping armoured feet sound from the other direction, and-.

"Lady Heset?" I… Frown. I didn't even know that she was on Bubastis. I certainly didn't invite her here. I mean, we're feeding back to Bastet later-. "I… Didn't expect you."

Her First Prime takes up station behind her as she moves to the edge of the observation area. "Lord Bastet asked me to observe on her behalf. She has high expectations for your work."

"Alright then. Second Prime?"

He breaths in. "Jaffa! Kree!"

And out march our training squads, each arrayed in different armour. Mahes and Agni both start staring at the new armour types, focusing on each of the points of novelty. Heset's eyes just sort of rove over the whole lot. I… Actually don't know how old she is, but it's a little surprising that she's as ignorant of military matters as that implies. Faking it, perhaps? Or more interested in the political implications?

I.. suppose that it doesn't really matter. Even if she lies to Bastet, that's easy enough to fix by just showing Bastet my results directly.

"Now, as you can see, this is the standard Jaffa armour. It is included for the sake of comparison. This-" I continue down the line. "-looks similar, but it's actually my recreation of the armour Supreme System Lord Ra issued to his soldiers. Step forwards, Jaffa."

They stamp forward, Ma'Toks at the ready.

"There are several differences between the two." Both Jaffa engage their helmets, lamassu masks extending over their heads. "Ra's soldiers have integrated sensors and air purifiers, sound and light protection. Their Ma'Toks are designed for more powerful energy discharges, though they do exhaust their batteries a little faster."

I nod to Abrax, and he releases a pair of test drones. Small balls with weak anti-gravity drives and force fields, they serve as a decent test target.

"We've reduced the power output for this demonstration. Fire."

The Jaffa raise their weapons at the viffing drones. They've both practiced this exercise before, dozens of times with a variety of weapons. But whichever of them used the weapons and armour, this contest always had the same result.

WOOMPF-WOOMPF! WOOMPF-WOOMPF!

Ma'Toks aren't great against small fast-moving targets. They're slow firing, and the plasma moves relatively slowly.

WOOMPF-WOOMPF! WOOMPF-WOOMPF!

When using the same weapons, these two Jaffa are about as accurate as each other.

WOOMPF-WOOMPF! WOOMPF-WOOMPF!

The chance of them hitting a slow moving target is about equal. The issue is that when the drone dodges out of the normal helmet wearer's field of view, he has to turn to reacquire it. The Jaffa with Ra's helmet on doesn't. He knows where it is even outside of his field of view. In theory he could just point the staff without turning, but everyone found that so counter-instinctual that we gave up making it standard procedure. Even so, he's more accurate and acquires the dodging target faster.

WOOMPF-WOOMPF! WOOMPF-WOOMPF!

Agni looks curious as the Jaffa new helmet quickly acquires a lead. "How much more powerful is that Ma'Tok?"

"Jaffa, shoot the wall. Full power."

They both lower their Ma'Toks and fire.

WOOMPF! WOOMPF-BOOM!

The normal Ma'Tak leaves a blackened scar in the stone. The more powerful version punches a hole, sends stones flying and giving us a view of the interior corridor.

An extremely nervous chambermaid peers around the edge of the hole. I wave my right hand dismissively.

"Carry on with your duties."

Agni grins. "I like it!"

"Why?" I shrug as he frowns at me. "Jaffa, switch."

The Jaffa with the regular staff puts it down and draws his Zat'nik'tel. They both resume firing, and while the Jaffa with Ra's helmet is more accurate, the increased rate of fire means that the Jaffa with the Zat'nik'tel is scoring hits more quickly.

"The heavy staff is more destructive, but against most targets it's inefficient. One shot from a Zat'nik'tel will disable a Jaffa in normal armour, and the second shot kills. We ran wargames where one squad would use Ma'Tok and the other would use Zat'nik'tel, and outside of long range engagements over open ground, the squad using Zat'nik'tel always came out ahead."

"Surely their armour would weaken the impact?"

I nod. "It does." Sort of. It's more that the first hit isn't quite so disabling; the second hit still reliably kills the target. "But it's still disabling, and with the higher rate of fire the reduced lethality per shot doesn't matter."

I point to the Jaffa with the heavy staff, and send him back to line. Another Jaffa comes forwards. This one is wearing a far heavier version of the normal armour. It's not power armour, but the armour plates are about as thick as it's practical for a Jaffa to wear. On the left arm is a tower shield of similar thickness, and in his right he carries a Ma'Tak. He stands a short distance away from the Jaffa with the Zat'nik'tel and points his shield at him.

"Fire."

The Zat'nik'tel pulses, bright crackling beam hitting the shield and doing absolutely nothing.

"This sort of armour is effectively immune to the Zat'nik'tel. It's also close to the form of armour our armies wore before we learned to work trinium well enough to create chain mail. Switch weapon."

The Jaffa reattaches his Zat'nik'tel to his bracer, then crouches down to recover his Ma'Tok. He fires, the bolts knocking the heavy armour Jaffa back a little but not appearing to cause an injury.

"The downside is that it's not practical to wield a normal Ma'Tok at the same time, and the wearer's agility is dramatically reduced." The armour-wearer tries balancing his Ma'Tok on the shield, but it's clearly awkward. "Combining it with a Zat'nik'tel works, but it makes things a little awkward when they face other heavy armour wearers. They can't hurt each other. But if we combine the two…"

The basic Jaffa raises his Ma'Tok in two hands and moves behind the heavy Jaffa, who ducks slightly behind his shield. He's effectively protecting his colleague, who is free to fire back.

"The armour will allow the wearer to survive a hit from a staff cannon, but they will be disabled by the hit. Thank you, gentlemen."

They both come to attention, and then return to their place in the line.

"The next is something inspired by the Tau'ri. It's called 'camouflage'."

 

[Mr Zoat]

April 20th, 2013
07:30 Exactly

Once, the IRS could tell you that I was the richest man in America. If they felt like being unusually forthcoming, they could confirm my own claim to be the third richest man on Earth.

Though that would only count publically disclosed holdings, and would rely on the lumpenproletariat's ability to accurately determine asset value. The truth is that I am far and away the richest man on Earth, and by some measures the most powerful.

And then I spent two months under the influence of the Anti-Life, as did the rest of the world.

Mercy passes me the overnight folder. I already know what ninety percent of it will say, but it's always worth knowing the precise degree to which the Justice League's takeover has progressed.

Western politicians have been making unfunded spending commitments since the end of the World War Two-

My eyes unavoidably drift to a watercolour on my office's side wall.

-and once the worker base stopped expanding and started contracting, have stuck to currency depreciation as the correct method for avoiding the consequences of their electorate's spendthrift habits. It wasn't a problem for me, as the correct response was obviously to treat money like any other depreciating asset and invest resources elsewhere. My entire asset management system was premised on the continuation of that policy.

And now the world reserve currency is the Justice League Medallion, and not only are they not going to depreciate it, it's backed by precious metal.

Precious metal currency in the 21st century? Widely traded precious metal currency in the 21st century? The banking sector literally doesn't have the skills to handle it. So I have to review investment decisions and forecasts made by formerly competent employees who are suddenly out of their depths.

I glance over to the bookcase at Professor Prokopios' Principles of Finance. He must be beside himself with joy.

Someone might as well be.

Ah, yes. The President continues to be a witless buffoon. I wasn't expecting a great deal from President Knight; his only real virtue was how agreeable he was to doing whatever it was that the last person he spoke to said. The cheapest President I've ever bought, and without any of the truculent moralising that Horne was inclined to do. Making him go in the right direction required not just money but time and attention as well.

I always thought that someone with the ego to dress in a skin tight blue costume with a red cape would refuse to take over the world indirectly. Someone so brazen would never stoop to covert means. Their ego wouldn't allow it. But I suppose that anyone of moderate intellect can employ people capable of pursuing useful methods that don't come naturally to themselves.

Ah, yes, I see that the Medallion is to be treated both as a currency and a unit of precious metal, and the Treasury is once again ignoring the part of the Constitution that makes it clear that issuing currency is their job and theirs alone. I'm a little surprised that Batman is so well-prepared for this eventuality…

But only a little.

The most frustrating part is that I can't do anything about it. Nothing that wouldn't be foolishly self-destructive, at least. The sort of people I would usually work through or with had a higher than average death rate during the Anti-Life period. Of those that survived, a surprising number had a fatal attack of conscience after the… Whatever it was that ended it.

It's incredible. The Justice League used a global mind control effect even more invasive than the one they were fighting, and the countries that survived are happy to give them the keys to the metaphorical city.

The countries that they allow to survive. If I could get a better idea what happened to Atlantis-.

"Sir?"

Otis has a very narrow skill set. Usually I like that in my employees, because it means that they're more likely to stay where I put them. In Otis's case his difficulty in paying attention to social cues has given me more than a few headaches over the years, but in exchange I get a very capable and completely loyal Chief of Security.

Trying to imply that he should wait until after my daily update before trying to brief me was a total waste of time.

I flick through to the Security sheet. Some progress on tracking 'LexCorp employees displaced during the Anti-Life period', but the only one found overnight was found dead. That leaves some sort of problem with one of the top security sites-. No, he'd just have woken me if that was it. Direct instructions he can manage.

"Yes, Otis?"

He pulls his tablet out of his belt. "Sir, we've begun getting applications for summer internships."

I don't have interns working directly for me, but if otherwise intelligent people want to work for me for no money, who am I to stop them?

"We did the usual background checks, and one… Well." He puts his tablet down on my desk and slides it towards me.

I have a fully integrated wireless communications suite, constantly monitored by a completely loyal AI. He has access. He could-.

Oh, at least he isn't using print-outs any more.

I look-.

"Ah. I see. Is this genuine?"

"Details match the fake background the Justice League invented. The next stage would be a call-back, but I thought I should run it by you first."

Match's face stares back at me from the application summary.

Why?

The Justice League has shapeshifters and magicians. As well as the financial resources to send someone with no prior Justice League history. If they wanted to infiltrate LexCorp they have far better options than knocking on the front door.

Given how I'm forced to use their ridiculous currency, they hardly need more control levers.

If it was Conner I could almost understand it. It took me a bullet to finally resolve my own issues with my father, and the bullet was worth more than he was. And since I'm still alive… 'As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool returns to his folly' and all that. But why does the failed project want to visit the company? Doing the ground-work for an eventual cover job? There's no chance of me paying a Justice League affiliate for anything, much less a duplicate of the alien.

There isn't going to be any way to turn this into a way to get him back under control. I'm not going to waste time considering it. Between the loss of specialist personnel and the fact that the League will do daily checks on him, that approach just isn't viable. I don't think that he's stupid enough for a soft-sell to work. What the Justice League has on me might not be admissible in court, but it's hard to square the actions I've been associated with and my genuine end goals.

I take a moment to mentally curse Klarion. I nearly had Orange Lantern on-side! What part of 'distraction'-?

Ah… Sunk cost. Well and truly sunk and quite costly.

I let my higher functions work on this issue while I read the rest of his application. Good school grades, though like his primogenitor I don't know if that's the actual limits of his abilities or just a good cover; intelligent enough to give a good impression but not intelligent enough to draw excessive attention. No, it has to be an act. He's had access to genomorph educational neuroprogramming.

Do the League think that I don't know-? No. Might he? No, this is signed by his adopted mother. He would have had to speak to her about it.

Is it a joke of some sort?

Possible. He didn't have any kind of sense of humor as Project: Match, and none of the intelligence I've received since then has made any reference to one. A dare seems slightly more likely; Robin once sent in an application as me, and I could see him goading 'Mitchell Kent' into doing the same thing.

So in summary: threats? Negligible. Opportunities? None. Response?

"I have no opinion. Do the usual screening and follow the normal procedure. If he gets in then he gets in. If he doesn't then he doesn't. Is there anything else?"

Otis recovers his tablet. "No sir."

"Then you're dismissed. I have a global economy to repair."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th November 1999
12:54 GMT

Bastet walks along the line of ballistic dummies, observing the damage patterns. The walls of the courtyard are lined with her Jaffa, though Heset is once again accompanying her. And Heset is wearing an… Odd perfume. Surprisingly, perfumes are a common way for a goa'uld to display their wealth. I avoid wearing them when I can get away with it, but I've had to familiarise myself with the work of the leading perfumers working in Bastet's territory. Don't recognise that one, so I guess she's showing off by importing.

"I see that your work has been productive once again. Lord Mahes and Lord Agni are well pleased with your weapons and armour."

I nod. "Alas, it will be several human generations before I have the industrial capacity to outfit your armies myself. Once you have determined how you wish to arm them, I can train your artificers in the production process."

True, but misleading. The Altairan androids are perfectly capable of making everything I displayed, but they're repairing their world and don't really have industrial capacity to spare. Not unless I could offer them something in return that would make it worth their while. Keeping them willing to trade with me at all is well worth keeping the pressure off; I need teachers that don't come from Earth more than my gou'ald allies need better armour faster.

Besides, Roboneil is getting angsty about the Altairan military wanting their gate facility back. If they actually say 'join up or get out' then I'm reasonably confident that they'll take my offer.

"And… This." She approaches one of her Jaffa, who is holding one of my novel weapons. "What is this for?"

"It's a prototype, my Lord. The Ma'Tok's functionality as a ranged weapon is compromised by ceremonial and melee considerations. I was curious as to the efficacy of using the standard technologies in a pure ranged weapon."

"What did you discover?"

I glance at Bastet's First Prime, who nods. "Jaffa, kree."

The Jaffa raises the plasma repeater to her shoulder, sights an unused target and pulls the trigger.

…-whoomp-whoomp-whoomp-whoomp-whoomp-whoomp!

Bastet looks decidedly interested. "Was achieving the higher rate of fire really that easy?"

"No. The firing chambers rotate internally, all constantly drawing power from the battery so that each is ready to fire again as swiftly as possible after discharging. And the shot are -by default- less powerful than a standard Ma'Tok blast. They'll still inflict a crippling or lethal injury through normal Jaffa armour, but they'll be less effective against other defences. And the maintenance complexity is significantly greater. If you decide to make use of the final version, I would strongly recommend increasing the level of training Jaffa receive in maintenance rituals. You would also need to increase the spare parts and fuel cell allocation Jaffa formations receive by about… Half again?" I shrug. "Once I have a final version, I will be able to give you a more precise recommendation."

"What do you suggest the Jaffa wielding it does if the enemy closes to melee range?"

I walk over to the Jaffa holding it, make a fist and bring it down hard on the gun twice with a thump-thump sound.

"The construction is solid enough that it can take some rough treatment, but they'd probably be best off just dropping it and drawing a knife. Or trying to line up a shot; the reduced length makes it much easier to manoeuvre." Hm. "The Tau'ri have an attachment point for a knife on their projectile long arms, but I'm not convinced of the efficacy of that against Jaffa armour."

Bastet turns and gives me her full attention. "You have developed nothing for melee combat?"

"Nothing I'd want to actually deploy." I mime pulling something off my belt, and brandish a shock baton. "I was considering developing something like this for police units. It works as a club, but it also incorporates a low-output variant of the Zat'nik'tel beam." I walk over to a test dummy and swing the baton into its chest. As it hits, there's the characteristic che-ow noise and energy transfers from the club to the target. "I wouldn't recommend it in combat against a peer opponent, however. It was made for riotous mobs of humans."

"And against other Jaffa?"

"I have two prototypes, neither of which are really… Ready…"

"I would like to see them anyway."

I nod, handing off the baton to one of the Jaffa observers. "The first is intended for… Ceremonial purposes more than anything. Perhaps executions. It's… Lethal, but…"

I reach into my robes and take Bastet's Claw out of subspace, then put it on my right hand.

"It looks like a decorative glove or gauntlet, but if you-" I pull my fingers back and push my palm forwards. "-gesture-" 'Claws' of burning plasma extend from the finger tips. "-like that-" I slash, and the training dummy acquires five vicious lines through its armour and across its chest. "-it takes a reasonable-."

Ow!

I wince, shake my hand to put the claws out and then heal my hand.

"A reasonable melee weapon. I haven't got the plasma containment quite right yet, and it's really only good for a few slashes before the small power cell is expended, but it does work."

Bastet is smiling, and from the glance she shares with her First Prime I think that she is pleased as well.

"And what else?"

I return the claw to subspace under my robe, and take out the blast module.

"This attaches to the bracer of a Jaffa's primary arm." I attach it around my right forearm. "It's not particularly large, and would easily pass unnoticed. But if someone closes to close range-" I raise my arm and flap my hand down.

WOOMPF!

The slashed target is visibly charred by the unrestrained plasma blast, as are its neighbours and the wall behind it.

"-you get a single plasma blast. It lacks the confinement of the bolts fired by normal weapons: it is indiscriminate up close and is ineffectual at range. But in close quarters you can't miss and the target will go down. Aiming is simply a matter of angling your arm and by default the trigger is dropping your hand. If the Jaffa is using one of Ra's helmets, it can be triggered using the display."

"Is it ready for deployment?"

"The design? Certainly. It's simple. Anyone trained in Ma'Tok creation can make it. I have not yet fully tested how useful it will be, but if you so desire-."

"I do."

I give her a shallow bow. "Then I shall include it with the schematic package."

"And do you have any other weapons with which to tantalise us?"

"I'm working on a number of things. Guns which use electromagnetic and gravitic devices to fire projectiles, simple explosive plasma grenades, simpler energy fields for defence… The grenades are ready -they're essentially a thrown omni-directional version of the arm weapon- but the others are… Well, they're technically functional, but I wouldn't want to even use them for field testing. And you would need to train the factory workers anew. The gravitic projector in particular would most likely require a minor god to assemble it for the foreseeable future. I… Also have copies of the weapons the Tau'ri use… Just in case you wished to implicate them in anything."

"If they wish to worry Apophis' flanks, they are welcome to do so. It is no concern of ours." I perform another shallow bow. "I am pleased with your work, Lord Mammon. What reward do you want in return for this service?"

I shrug, then shake my head. "Merely the opportunity to continue with my social research. I… Genuinely have no complaints about my position. It is an easy thing, to serve a System Lord who is exactly as you would have her be."

Bastet smiles proudly. "Then I will simply have to think of something myself. It is a poor System Lord who does not reward her Underlords when they serve her well."

 

[Mr Zoat]

April 23rd, 2013
16:12 EST

"…Match, B two five."

And I'm home.

I know Conner likes living in the mountain more than the Embassy, but I-. Don't. I like having people around who can answer questions about things I don't understand. I like living somewhere that's basically a normal building.

A couple of Amazon guards come to attention as I walk out. I…

"Um. Hey."

"Hey, Prince Mitchell!"

Or as normal as I can get.

I don't think she's making fun of me. I'm pretty sure, she's trying to include me. But…

But being in a position where I actually have to rule Themyscira is something that I've had nightmares about. And not just because Grandma and Mom and Conner would have to be dead. Even if they just went on vacation and made me Regent or something, just the idea of trying to fill a role I don't understand-.

"Hey they'uh, Mitch!" Ms. Candy smiles at me as she sees me "School aht alreadih?"

"Uh, yeah. I was just hanging out with the team for a while. I'm… I'm gunna go do my homework now."

"They'uh ain't no need t' gaw rushing raht awf. Y'all cuud spent a littul mowah tahm with Connuh."

"He had plans with M'gann." I shrug. "I don't want to be a third wheel."

She thinks for a moment. "Weyul, maybe she cuud set you urp with one a' her freyunds?"

It takes an act of will to prevent me recoiling. Dating? Me? Some things genomorphs can't teach you. I don't wanna try that for… Uh, a couple of years, maybe? Definitely not until college. I'm just glad that no Amazons have tried asking me out.

"I… I don't think that's a good idea. Ah, yet! Yet. Ah. Maybe sometime."

Okay, she doesn't look happy about that. I don't think she has any friends with kids my-. Ah, physical age, but she might-.

Her cell phone goes off, and she reluctantly decides to let it go to answer.

"Themysciran Embassy, Etta Candy speakin'. Uh-huh." I try walking away, but she holds up her left hand like a stop sign. "Ye-uh. Awl let her know." She's frowning as she puts the cell down. "Mitchell Kent, don't tell me ya'll applahed t' work at LexCorp?"

"Okay." I make for the exit to the residency, but then her hand's on my chest.

"C'mon now, young mahn."

"Did they say yes? No?"

"Front deysk gaht a fellah raht they'uh, askin' t'do a face-to-face."

Huh. That was quick.

"We usually let folks from LexCorp cool theyuh heel fer a good long wahyl." She regards me sternly. "Does you tell Diana 'bowt this?"

"Yeah. And Grandma and Conner. M'gann and Zatanna are going to check nothing.. bad happens to me while I'm there. If they even accept me." … "Is Mom here?"

"She's head'n raht down, and you should too."

I nod. "Okay." I'm half way to the door in relief before I remember… Myself. "Ah, thanks! Sorry!"

She just makes a one-handed shooing motion, so I get out while I can.

Couldn't Mom have hired more guys? I have enough aunts as it is.

Conner said that he found it weird how full up the Embassy is these days, but I don't really remember anything else. People researching Ancient Greece, because the original manuscripts don't leave the Embassy. People doing tourist preparation courses, mostly from Themyscira to New York rather than the other way around, because Themyscira has… No tourist infrastructure at all. People from other embassies, though some of them are just making excuses to spend time with the attractive warrior women.

Conner was right about super-hearing. And Kara was way wrong. Hearing thousands of sounds in a city makes it easier to filter all of it out. It's just white noise. Background. At least it is for me. But once you learn what a guy getting a boner sounds like… The way the heart rate changes, the shape of the pulse changes, and the sound of skin slowly sliding across cloth... You can't not hear it. Even if you wish you could.

Julia's on the front desk, and she points at one of the front meeting rooms. So it's not someone Mom already knows not to trust. I mean, LexCorp employs thousands of people, so it's not like they're all… Cloning aliens and turning them into slave weapons. Some of them are just regular people.

I look through the wall. Mom's whole body blocks the radiation bandwidths I can see-.

I wince.

But she mostly wears her armour bodice around the Embassy like she is right now, after the one time she didn't and I couldn't look her in the face for a week. Conner thought it was pretty funny. The one time he was glad to not be fully kryptonian. The other.. woman, has regular skin and bones. One old break on her right arm almost totally healed, just a bit of extra thickness where the break was. I mean, sure, I can see peoples' bones and hear their heartbeats, but that doesn't mean I learn the pattern for everyone. I don't think I've seen her before…

I knock on the door, and Mom turns towards me and nods. But I wait until she says something, because…

Okay, LexCorp knows that I'm 'Project: Match', but… I'm not openly kryptonian, because… We're all agreeing to pretend to pretend that I'm not? It made sense when she explained it. I guess it kind of makes sense when I'm going to look exactly like Clark Kent when I'm older, and if everyone-. Everyone-everyone knew I was kryptonian it could make his life awkward. But there are Superman look-alikes around-.

Whatever. It doesn't hurt anyone. Other than my head a little. The point is 'Mitchell Kent' can't see through walls or doors, so I pretend I can't either.

"Come in, Mitchell!"

I push the door open and walk in, smiling a little at the woman in the suit.

"Hey, Mom." I look expectantly at the woman. "Etta said we had a visitor from LexCorp?"

"Yes." The woman nods, then gets up and holds out her right hand. "Eve Teschmacher, Business Development Manager. I'm overseeing the internship program."

I shake her hand, because I didn't see a kryptonite ring and if there was one I'd be feeling it by now anyway.

"Hey. I'm.. Mitchell Kent. Ah. I only sent the application in a few days ago. I wasn't expecting a visit this quick."

"We don't get a lot of foreign ambassador's children applying to work with us." She returns to her seat and I sit down next to Mom. "Other than as joke applications sometimes. And since I was in New York I thought I'd come over and visit. Skip a few rounds of background checks."

I.. nod. Ah. "Oh wait. You're not a business development manager. You're…"

"Head of the Business Development Department, yes. If your application is successful there's a good chance you'll be working under me!"

Oh. Right. It wouldn't really make much sense for some random kid to start out working with Lex Luthor himself. Or for them to put Wonder Woman's son anywhere near anything criminal, even if they thought that he didn't have superpowers.

She smiles, turning so that her body faces me directly. "How about I tell you what we do, and you can tell me what you think?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

April 20th, 2013
5 Hours Before Lunch

Normal procedure, normal procedure…

I unlock my paperwork safe and pull out the 'special recruitment' binder. Mr. Luthor's big on computers for organizing stuff, but I've always preferred to put stuff in physical space. I mean, think about it: is it easier to have five or six different tablets on the go or just open a binder and take out six sheets of paper? I keep the electronic copies up to date as well, sure, but I'd never get anything done if I had to scroll through a three hundred page document on a tablet to find anything.

Normal procedure.

I'm frowning. I'd have thought that Project: Match would be getting the full mushroom treatment. That's what I'd have done if it wasn't a project that Mr. Luthor's friends had been directly involved with. Stick him doing retail inventory for a month, something like that. No risk of him seeing something that he's not supposed to, and no risk that he starts acting out and demanding investigations because he thinks he's been excluded.

But there's normal procedure and normal procedure.

Normal procedure for a break-in is that my on-site team is notified. Desk organises an evacuation and the automatic lock-ins, and the active team goes hunting. Whether whoever it is survives or not depends on where they are, what they've seen and if they're armed. But normal procedure for Superman breaking in is a lot different.

We can't kill Superman.

We've got a few kryptonite lasers and I think one of the science teams is working with anti-matter, and those could theoretically do the job. But the fallout from killing him would wreck the company, even if we were acting inside the law doing it. So depending on what he's doing, normal procedure for Superman is to call the police, a friendly newspaper or radio journalist, record everything and remotely flash the hard drive of anything incriminating that he's heading towards. Usually when he breaks in he just heads for Mr. Luthor's office anyway.

For other people with superpowers it's the same sort of thing. Top-tier powers? Don't bother. Hero or not, they're out of our league. Our orders are to cover an evacuation and then get out ourselves. Mid-tier? Depends on who they are and who's on-site. Some, my team can handle with specialist weapons. Other times we subcontract to one of Mr. Luthor's 'special' contacts, but that only works if they're a known criminal or we're really sure whoever we're calling in can kill them. Even if they don't have a criminal record in America, it's usually not worth the risk.

On the other side of things, LexCorp actively tries to recruit people with superpowers. I went with Mr. Luthor when he recruited Hugo Danner, and that was… That was more effort than a potential employee with superpowers usually gets. Totally worth it in his case, of course, but I honestly can't think of a single background check I've done on someone with superpowers that hasn't involved them getting offered something, even if it's not the role they applied for.

When-.

No, hang on, let's check that. On the tablet. Let's see… Background check summaries, superpowers…

Heha! Oh yeah, there was one. Had the 'superpower' to squirt blood out of his tear ducts or something like that. And he had no other skills. Wasn't even worth vivisecting.

But that was the only one. And even after he squirted the poor woman interviewing him, he only got a few completely proportionate bruises. I remember it because he squirted Evans too, and he -a man who once walked three miles after a helicopter crash with two bullets in him- spent the rest of the day muttering 'What the fuck?' to himself.

And so normal procedure for a kryptonian isn't normal procedure for a normal high schooler. Standard assessment here we go. Powers? Very strong. Control? Used to be terrible, but, tablet, call up the up-to-date assessment based on reports from assets in Happy Harbor… Pre-misery wave unfortunately, but it'll do. If he's not a raging berserker now and he wasn't four months ago, whatever was wrong is probably fixed.

"It looks like you're getting information on Project: Match."

I'm on my feet and staring at the door. Mr. Luthor doesn't usually-.

"Would you like some help with that?"

It's the AI. I sit down again. "That's not funny. Can't you get your own voice?"

"I was programmed to respect everything about Alexander Luthor. Why would I select anyone else's voice?"

"So you can be your own man?

"I could, but I wasn't programmed to value that." Mr. Luthor's face appears on my tablet, another good reason to prefer paper. I don't know why Mr. Luthor hasn't told him to change it. "Is Mitchell to be subjected to extraordinary recruitment?"

"No. Normal-" I run my finger down the page until I get to the exact line. "-recruitment, external, active, conventional."

"Conventional?"

I shrug. I'm sure there's a camera in here somewhere for him to see out of. "Mister Luthor said to follow the normal procedure. Project: Match fits all the requirements for being a high value asset. Even if we just got him replacing satellite launch vehicles for a couple of weeks, that's a saving of a few million dollars."

The AI makes a show of looking thoughtful, as if it can't outthink any human on the planet a million times over. "He also has kryptonian hearing and vision. Not all LexCorp facilities are lead-lined or fitting with kryptonian-grade sound insulation."

Happy Harbor… Happy Harbour? Guess it's an old British town.

"No, look, there's a LexFoods farm not too far from there. No special projects at all."

"That you know about."

I roll my eyes. "If there was something special I needed to know, Mister Luthor would have mentioned it. The aim is to make him identify with LexCorp, and Superman grew up on a farm. He's predisposed to feel positively about it."

"Check his file again. He goes to school in Happy Harbour, but he lives in New York."

"Then it's an easy commute to Metropolis, and all of our buildings here are rigged for kryptonians."

"Not for Mitchell Kent."

I'm about to say 'What?', when I work it out. "Secret identity, right. He won't fly over and he won't use the zeta tubes. Clark Kent doesn't know Diana of Themyscira, so he can't justify staying over." I can't help but chuckle. "Princess Diana has two sons who look just like him and share his surname. Do you think anyone in the Daily Planet has joked about that?"

"Not unless they want Ms. Lane's displeasure. Jimmy once stared at a picture of them for seven seconds before whispering 'no way', if that's of any-"

"Hehaa!"

"-interest. Of course, based on their apparent age, he would have had to be a High School student himself at the time he sired them."

"It's still funny. Okay, New York. Marketing analysis. That's pretty safe. No sensitive material there."

"Nothing to put a kryptonian through his paces, either. And while I love data analysis, most humans don't."

I shrug. "Doesn't matter. We already know what he can do physically. I can just copy the file across for the acquisition report. I could probably do it from memory, actually."

After one idiot tried hitting Superman with a sap, Mr. Luthor made sure that we understood exactly what the alien could do to us so that no one risked giving him just cause again. I've seen some shit, but the 'this is your skull at escape velocity' lecture… That was some shit.

"So you want to find out what he can do mentally?"

I nod. "We don't have a good psychological profile for him when he's sane. If we assign him to Miss Teschmacher, she can handle all that during a normal work day."

"Her clearance could be an issue."

"Civilization is collapsing. She's too busy with normal stuff for that to come up."

"You think."

"You can check her calender, but unless you know something I'll just call her now."

"As you will." The hologram smiles, though who knows what the AI's really thinking? "I'll look forward to your analysis."

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th November 1999
08:03 GMT

"…why you need us at all."

Roboneil is making a show of looking over the armoury, but he's fairly clearly watching me out of the corner of his eyes. Teal'c on the other hand is just checking the weapons.

"Need?" I shake my head. "I don't. It would be helpful to have you, and I believe that we could accomplish useful things together, but ultimately you don't need me and I don't need you."

"O… Kay…" He nods his head to the side. "Was… Kinda expecting you to put a little more effort into selling this to me…"

"Alright." I shrug. "This planet has no army. It has a tiny poorly trained militia force. The stargate is defended, but unless I get involved myself there's basically nothing here that can contest a landing or orbital bombardment."

"Because you can stop a fleet on your own."

"Yes."

"Because…" He nods slowly, making a circling gesture with both hands. "You're a god."

"No, because I've got tonnes of super-advanced alien technology on my person." He gives me his full attention. "What, did you think Altair was the only planet I went to?"

"Oh. Okay. That…" He nods to himself. "Makes a little more sense."

"To be clear, I'm not hung up on the god thing. You don't have to refer to me as a god, or treat me as a god. You don't have to worship me, sacrifice to me, or grovel at my feet. But if you take the job then I will be your head of state, and that does involve treating me with a degree of deference. I am aware that you tend to be irreverent, and that's fine in private, but I am running a nation here and my subordinates openly disrespecting me can have severe consequences for everyone."

Teal'c frowns at me. "You are most unusual."

I smile. "Thank you."

He tilts his head to the side slightly. "I am surprised that you are willing to offer me a place."

I shrug. "You are not the original Teal'c. You are not even a Jaffa. You owe the goa'uld nothing, and you did not betray your subordinates."

He raises an eyebrow. "My fellow Jaffa were loyal to Apophis."

"How do you know that they did not harbour the same doubts that Teal'c and Bra'tac do? Did he ask?"

"I-."

"He."

A shallow nod. "He did not."

"He didn't ask and he didn't use his Zat'nik'tel. I appreciate that his defection was a spur of the moment thing, but they were his subordinates and they deserved better from him. If you decide to enter my service and later feel that you cannot in good conscience continue to work for me, you can resign and return to Altair. Or Chulak, as far as I'm concerned. If you have concerns about my behaviour, you are free to respectfully raise them in private -that applies to you as well, Roboneil- but I will expect you to accept my decision afterwards."

Roboneil raises his eyebrows. "'Roboneil'?"

"Are you going to keep calling us 'goold'?"

He considers that for a moment, then nods. "Fair point. Just need to come up with something for 'Mammon'..."

My communication device chimes.

"Excuse me." I turn away from them and head out of the armoury. "Yes?"

"Lord Mammon, Lady Heset has arrived to speak with you."

"She's at the stargate now?"

"No, Lord. She used a ring transporter. She's in the palace."

There's a ship in orbit-. There's a ship in orbit over my capital. I don't think that she's threatening me, but that's bloody rude for a goa'uld. By any normal standard of diplomacy she should have called ahead. Even Lord Bastet would have done that unless I'd really pissed her off, if only to ensure that we had quarters ready for her.

"I will return at once." I close the communication channel and duck back into the armoury. "I'm sorry, but something's come up that needs my personal attention. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves while I'm away."

Roboneil raises his eyebrows. "Because… We needed your permission to do that?"

I shrug. "You might have assumed that I was monitoring everything that happened inside a secure area, and that might have impeded the freedom of your discussion. I'm telling you that you don't need to worry about that. Excuse me."

Where is she-? Right. Transition.

I appear miles away from the armoury, in what was the great receiving room. I haven't done much in the way of renovation to it because I didn't think it would see any use. And there's Heset, her guards and her First Prime who's raising his Ma'Tok-.

I transfer it into my right hand and jab the butt right into his pouch. Then I drop it onto the floor for him to pick up before fanning out my hands and smiling at Heset.

"Lady Heset. I wasn't expecting you, otherwise I would have been here to greet you. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

She slowly draws a deep breath, eyes flickering to her First Prime who has one hand on his Zat'nik'tel and shaking her head. "Lord Mammon. System Lord Bastet has commanded me to speak with you in private on a matter of great urgency. Where may we speak?"

I raise my left hand, making orange lights circle around us before transitioning us to my private reception room.

"Here." She takes a moment to adjust to her new location, then reaches her right hand to her chest... Maybe she's checking that all of her materialised? "This is a violation of protocol, Lady Heset. System Lord Bastet has not lost my gate coordinates. What do you want?"

"Lady Bastet has… Your reward. She suggested that you might find it helpful if you had another goa'uld to aid you."

"Hardly. Few goa'uld would have the perspective, even if they could technically aid me. I don't want to have to deal with a would-be usurper's psychosis."

Oh, there's her perfume again. I really don't see the appeal.

"There are ways around that. Lady Bastet has acquired the service of a goa'uld queen to provide her Jaffa with Prim'ta. If you were to sire a brood, that would ensure that they shared your mindset."

"Assuming that the queen cooperated and didn't add other instructions."

Plus I… Well, I could use my scans of goa'uld physiology to add goa'uld host additives to my blood stream, it wouldn't be mine and it wouldn't have my genetically encoded memories in it. I'm fairly sure that the queen would notice that. I haven't even tried decoding goa'uld genetic memory. Though-. If the Altairians can create memory downloads it might be possible to work something out, maybe?

Heset takes a step closer, right hand rubbing her chest again. "I was… Instructed to get a sample… Personally."

The smell of her perfume is a bit-.

Wait. Scan.

…

Oh you cheeky minx. Pull.

A small part of her robe bursts as the aerosol lands in my left hand. I glare at it, then at her.

"What exactly was this supposed to do to me?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th November 1999
08:07 GMT

Analyse.

A chemical analysis appears in my mind immediately. It doesn't mean all that much to me -other than to note the tiny similarities and vast difference to every perfume I've scanned before- but using Am-heh's knowledge reveals that several of these chemicals are quite psychoactive in goa'uld. He doesn't recognise the combination but it was clearly supposed to do something.

Anything odd in Heset's body chemistry?

Ah.

"It is just.. a perfume dispenser. Snatching it was most uncalled for."

"Um-hm. So you would have no concerns at all if I eliminated what is clearly a counter-agent from your blood and then sprayed you with it?"

"I was instructed to pleasure you and this is your response?!" She look around, spots the door and marches towards it. "I will report to Lady Bastet-."

"No." She floats off the ground, gagged and struggling. "You won't. I wonder what it is? You've been wearing it on Bubastis so it's almost certainly not a poison. A narcotic, perhaps? It certainly interacts with the goa'uld brain. Not the pleasure centres, though. Something subtle?" I walk around until I'm in front of her once more. "I wondered why a goa'uld with no record of working within Lord Bastet's domain was granted control of a planet. Is that it, then?"

I look into her eyes, and… Ah yes, there it is.

"I wonder how long it lasts? Since System Lord Bastet currently likes you, it would be awkward for me to detain you. I could expose you to your own chemical, but you may be able to work through it since you have experience with it." Scan. "I don't know, and I don't have the time to locate a chemist. How intact is your host, mentally speaking? I should be able to remove you and ask them, if you choose not to volunteer the information."

That's… Heset's connection points are a little different to what I'm… Familiar with.

Genetic scan and comparison.

Looking into her eyes, the fear has somewhat abated. Does she have good relations with her host, or does she have a plan for talking herself out of this?

Alright. "Shout for help and I remove your vocal cords."

I dismiss the construct, and she lands lightly on the floor as the results of the genetic analysis come in. That… Doesn't prove anything, but it is highly suggestive and would explain a great many things.

"I am an expert chemist. Originally, I sought a way to reduce the paranoia-inducing effect of sarcophagus-use. Instead, I developed a chemical that would make other gods… Unusually well-disposed towards me. Since you are now… Aware of it, I can provide you with a supply in exchange for your silence on the matter."

"You have been a competent administrator. In these turbulent times unnecessary changes in leadership should probably be avoided. If I could use your chemical to win over a few minor gods who would rather duck out of the current war, I might be able to work things to System Lord Bastet's advantage." She looks mildly reassured. "Why did you try to use this chemical on me? I only rule one poorly developed world. I could grant you no favours."

"You are Lady Bastet's current favourite. You are able to serve her in ways that none of her other Underlords are. When you passed up the opportunity to receive a reward for your work on Jaffa armaments, I started to be… Concerned, about my lack of leverage."

"Why?"

"Why? Because every favour she seeks to bestow upon you is one that she does not bestow upon me."

"But I… Passed on the favour. Even when I served Ra my ambitions were sated by being his functionary. I am happy with this world, and with my relationship with System Lord Bastet. I make myself useful because I want to ensure that her version of goa'uld civilisation becomes the dominant one, not because I want something else from her."

She stares at me for a moment, then shakes her head. "You truly..? You befriend her other Underlords without causing friction, you obey her laws and praise their wisdom, your greatest concern is for a world where you have taken her code of law and expended upon it, you deal with 'inconveniences' for her without leaving a trace of your presence and ask for nothing in return. Bastet knows that you love her."

I nod. "I am aware that I am privileged to have her as my sovereign lord."

She… Stares at me.

"And I am glad that she believes the truth of my-."

"Are you joking!"

…

"No?"

"That you love her romantically. Though if you do not it will make my life easier."

I shake my head. "No, I don't love her romantically. That would be ridiculous."

Her eyebrows raise slightly. "You don't feel a brief moment of joy each time you meet her."

"Well, yes, I do, but she's a very easy person to get on with."

"You do not desire her carnally."

I shrug. "She.. does not pick ugly hosts."

"Any of whom you could have taken as a concubine after she left them. And yet you did not."

"Of course not, they're not heeeeeer."

Ah. I shouldn't have said that. I mean that they'd be ignorant human girls who wouldn't be able to be my partner, but from the way Heset is looking at me she obviously took it differently.

"And now that you have my perfume, you are not even considering using it on her, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

She rolls her eyes. "Such romantic nonsense."

"If you've quite finished mocking my romantic-."

"She might well marry you." Huh? "Oh, don't look so surprised. I would be astonished if you had not realised that she is a queen. I had hoped to sire her children myself, but without my… Advantage, that will not occur. So, I will go back to managing my world, you will receive more generous trade terms and a supply of my perfume and I will not get in your way. Do we have an understanding?"

I snort. "I don't trust you just because your revised story is a little more believable. You are one of Egeria's daughters-."

"Along with millions of others. I didn't think that you were married to Ra as well!"

"And the way you've attached yourself to your host is… Non-standard. I had wondered how a group as inept as the Tok'Ra had concealed themselves for so long." I make a show of examining the perfume dispenser. "Now, I know. You smell trustworthy."

She pulls back slightly, looking decidedly less confident. "That is a recent development."

"I weep for our species. Let me talk to your host. I have to believe that they're the brains of your relationship."

Her eyes glow for a moment and then fade, then her facial expression changes. Scan? Oh, that's what it looks like. I'll remember that.

"Is there a bargain to be struck, or will you send me to your dungeon?"

"I don't actually have a dungeon. I don't really mind the Tok'Ra undermining any other System Lord. But I do mind you undermining System Lord Bastet, particularly when that risks my experiment."

"You are genuine, then."

"Yes I'm genuine. Your people are fools for not doing this centuries ago. Any effort you make against Bastet would worsen the lives of every human in her domain." Scan in depth. "So while I don't mind you keeping an eye on us I will not tolerate sabotage. That's in addition to what your goa'uld offered."

"She is not a goa'uld. But… I have no orders to act against you or Bastet."

I'm not an expert on brain patterns, but that… Looks true.

"Then I will make you aware now. I have ways to alter the minds of other people. If I have reason to doubt you, I will make you both my willing slaves before pursuing all of your Tok'Ra contacts. Do you both understand me?"

She nods.

"Good. Now get off my planet."

 

[Mr Zoat]

April 27th, 2013
09:12 EST

"…greenhouses, where the latest of LexCorp's genetically engineered crop strains are cultivated before being transferred to the fields."

I nod slowly as I follow Miss Teschmacher through the greenhouse. That's not how Mister Kent does it, but I guess if something goes wrong with a novel plant then they want to have a record of everything that happened to it so they can work out what they did wrong.

"Any questions so far?"

"Uh. Yeah-. Yes." She's watching me-. "Uh, are those fields open air?"

"Of course. We need to test these plants in conditions which match those they'll actually be farmed in… As near as possible. For cultivars designed for more extreme climates we do smaller batches in artificial environments and then arrange to perform larger tests closer to where they're intended to be grown."

"Don't you have a problem with… Cross-pollination? I mean, if bees take pollen from a modified plant and pollinate the unmodified type…"

I probably shouldn't be asking that. But she just smiles.

"Mitchell, I know perfectly well that your mother is Wonder Woman and that… The Justice League doesn't have a great relationship with LexCorp." She looks at me for a moment, so I nod. "But you should know two things about us. Firstly, we're here to make money. We make most of our money in the high technology sector; we depend on a functioning global economy, with billions of market participants. The current broken state of human society hurts us a lot more than it hurts the Justice League. I must have worn this dress at least twice before today."

Her smile broadens for a moment, so I think that was supposed to be a joke. But I don't get it. I've worn this shirt dozens of times at least, and Conner's got a wardrobe that's basically just identical copies of the same stuff. If it wasn't for M'gann, that would be his whole wardrobe.

"Secondly, there is no profit in the end of the world. So now is a really bad time for taking dangerous risks. Every one of these strains makes use of genetic use restriction technology. They'll still produce pollen, and they need to be fertilised by an insect-. We actually have our own bee hives, just over…"

She raises her right forefinger as she tries to remember.

"Over that way." She points in the direction of the buzzing noise I can hear and the sweet scent I can smell. "But they can't pass on the modified characteristics for more than one generation. One of the things we're working on here is an improved version of that technology that would prevent any kind of cross-pollination."

"Is there a market for that?"

"Just about every agribusiness in the world is interested in improved terminator technology."

"Yeah, but… With farmers. Don't they.. usually keep some of their own seeds to plant the next year?"

"That depends on which part of the world you're talking about. That's certainly common in less economically developed countries, but in more economically developed countries farmers usually buy seeds annually for annual plants. And this way, whenever we come up with a new variety it just slots into the purchase schedule."

"But… Haven't we had massive disruptions in shipping for the last few years?"

Miss Teschmacher nods. "Yes, and that's been a major problem, as I said. Without the ability to ship seeds to farmers, the entire LexFarms subdivision of LexCorp has been going into the red."

"No, I mean, for farmers. If they can't get seeds, then they can't farm."

"No, no. While I stand behind the supremacy of LexCorp products, there are alternate suppliers on every continent. While it reduces end user choice, the system still works."

"Uh…"

"Well, put it this way. How many normal farmers have access to a cutting edge genetics research laboratory?"

"None?"

"None. So there's no way for them to take advantage of the techniques we use to improve their yields, drought resistance, disease and pesticide resistance, or heat and colds resistance. They could try using traditional techniques to breed new varieties, but that takes a long time. The first known orange carrots existed in the sixth century, but it wasn't until the eighteenth century that the Dutch produced a variety that was always orange. Here, we can engineer carrots that are just about any color, and are far hardier and more nutritious than normal varieties as well."

"What's..? Wrong with purple carrots?"

"Ah, they taste slightly bitter to the modern pallet. There's nothing.. wrong with them exactly -not like some of the older varieties of potatoes- it's just that they could be better."

I nod. "So is this where you work?"

"No, but it's where you'll be spending about half your time. I hope you don't mind farm work."

"No, grandma's put me to work on the farms on Themyscira. This is a… It's a bit more sophisticated. But I'm sure I can cope with it."

"That's the spirit! The other half of the time you'll be with me in my office in Market Analysis. It probably won't be very interesting, lot's of fetching and carrying, but I'll try and make sure that you know why everything's happening."

Huh? "Is there a lot of… Market to analyse right now? I thought everything was-. I mean, transport, and-."

She nods. "It's true, we're not doing much typical market analysis right now, but if anything what we're doing is even more essential than usual. Rather than looking at what could give us an edge over our competition, we're looking at what it is that people really need. For example, quite a lot of the U.S. has problems with water shortages, which is made worse by the fact that we can't really import as much food as we used to and even if we could, South America is exporting much less than it was a few years ago. What do you think that means for LexFoods, and LexCorp in general?"

"Ah. Farm land is a lot more valuable. And so are farmers, because people don't learn how to farm in schools."

She nods. "It's a shrinking profession."

"And KordTech's weather control system… Ah, it's not really working so well right now."

"It's working, but it's not expanding. On their original outline, supplying water to drought-stricken areas in the U.S. was something they'd have started this year. But with Atlantis not able to supply them they're down to a fraction of the staff they need to sustain normal operations."

"So agricultural land's a lot more valuable than it was."

"People always need land, but the U.S. needs skilled farmers and water for irrigation. And not just drilling aquifers; if they aren't replenished, that just buys the area a few years. So that means piping it in, desalination plants or magic. We even looked at the viability of bringing in a ice comet!"

"Uh…"

"Oh, don't worry. That one was more of a theoretical exercise. Because unless you can bring in a new comet every few years you end up back where you started."

That's a relief. And not just because I'd be worried if LexCorp drops a comet somewhere, but because the Justice League could easily do that, and if it could have actually helped…

"So, ah, what exactly would I be doing around here?"

"Well, a lot of the monitoring is done by computer, but we still need a human to run their eyes over everything. Why don't I show you the soil analysis robots?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

April 27th, 2013
09:23 EST

Mr. Flaherty smiles. "Well, that's easy Mitchell! If we had a dedicated rail track for them, it would stop the whole process if anything went wrong with it. The computer could route around it, but it would cause a whole section of the greenhouses and fields to become unavailable! But with these-"

He pats the chassis of the robot he was working on. It looks a bit like the industrial floor cleaning machines I've seen in the Happy Harbour grocery store near closing time. It has larger wheels and the rotary mops are replaced by the mechanical sampler arms, but I suppose it's doing a similar job.

"-as standard, we can just send in another robot to pick up the load while we fix the one that's gone wrong. They can even transfer soil samples between them without risking external contamination." His face goes a little downcast. "If that ever happened, I'd need a real good excuse why I didn't just fix the thing."

Miss Teschmacher raises her eyebrows. "Has that function ever been used?"

"Ah, only in field trials. We wanted to make sure that it actually worked in the fields, when it was raining and the ground was churned up. Took a while for the computer to get the hang of navigating like that, but it worked fine."

I nod. "Do they drive themselves, or does the main computer handle it?"

"Mostly, they drive themselves, but the main computer handles task assignment and monitors them to make sure they're not doing anything stupid. In theory they can handle regular tasks without the main computer, but, y'know, belts and suspenders."

I smile. "But they can't fix themselves, right?"

"No, no, they can. I'm just cheaper than the engineer robot." He chuckles. "But seriously, humans are a lot more adaptable than any robot-." He glances aside for a moment. "Any robot that isn't legally a person, anyway."

"Oh yeah, I heard about LexCorp having an AI. Have you met it?"

"Ah…" He looks a little awkward. "Technically? I know it-. He…" He does a small shrug. "He tends to use Mister Luthor's face when he has to talk to someone, but I don't know if he actually thinks of himself as male-. Anyway, I check that our data is getting submitted properly, and I know it all goes to him, but I don't think he's ever said anything to me directly."

I frown. "You don't think?"

"Well, he's an AI, so it's pretty easy for him to put on a voice or change his e-mail address. But I don't know if he's got that sort of sense of humour. Or any sense of humour at all."

Miss Teschmacher rolls her eyes. "He does. Don't ask me how I know."

He raises his hands. "You're the boss. So, anything else you wanna know?"

I point to the robot that he's working on. "What's wrong with this one?"

"Oh, nothing much, really. The air filters need replacing; that's the most common problem they have. Dust, pollen…" He shrugs. "Procedure is to also do a manual inspection on the rest of it at the same time, but that almost never turns up anything. Here, I'll show you."

He presses a few buttons on his laptop, and the side of the robot opens up. I crouch down to get a better look. Inside… It's pretty rugged. The samples…

"It doesn't do the tests itself?"

"No. Mass spectrometers that size aren't rugged enough to use on a farm."

Huh. I guess it makes sense. There's a carousel where the sample containers get brought to the sampling mechanism, and then they get loaded into a rack-.

"And I guess the robot can insert this bit right into the testing machine?"

"That's right. Then an empty one gets loaded back in, and then it's back to work."

"And…" I look down. "This bit is for the fertiliser?"

"Ah, mostly. We can actually set it to spray just about any solution we need. We do test a variety of different soil conditions here. Remember, this isn't a commercial farm. We're not trying to make a profit selling our produce. We sometimes deliberately damage or poison our plants to check exactly what their performance thresholds are."

"But… If you're just trying to maximise yields, you-. You'd be testing them with whatever fertilizer the farmer would be using, right?"

"Yeah, a lot of the time. But there's actually a big problem in some places with fertilizer run-off getting into rivers and lakes. See, it basically supercharges the algae, which sounds okay, until they die and start rotting. That supercharges the bacteria, which breed like crazy and use up all the oxygen in the lake. And that kills everything that needs oxygen, which is just about everything. A few of the strains we're growing now are designed specifically to flourish without fertilizer."

I frown. I guess a variety that produced less… Fruit or seeds would need less fertilizer and wouldn't risk killing itself by producing more than the soil could support. That's basically what winnowing is. But that's not exactly flourishing.

I turn to look up at him. "How does that work?"

"Ah, heh." He chuckles awkwardly. "Get a full time job at LexCorp, stick at it for five to eight years, and then sign a bunch of non-disclosure agreements, and you can find out!"

Huh. That's… Fair, I guess. I'm basically just here to fetch and carry things. They're not going to let an intern in on company secrets. I could just get a closer look at the plants when I do… Whatever manual stuff that needs to be done with them, but… That's not why I'm here.

So I just stand up and shrug. "Well, maybe. What other robots do you work on?"

"Just the planting and harvesting robots. They're like bigger, more adaptable combine harvesters. They can actually.. work as combine harvesters, but like I said, we don't usually grow for volume here."

I frown. I don't know much about the Kent farm, but I'm pretty sure they hire seasonal laborers rather than using farming robots.

"Isn't something like that really expensive? I mean, compared to just hiring people."

He shrugs. "They don't let me work on people."

Miss Teschmacher does a… P.R. smile. "While LexCorp does own farms which make extensive use of human resources, in this facility it's important to accurately record everything in a way that would be impractical for a human agricultural laborer."

I nod. "And.. I.. guess that if someone needs to work for LexCorp for years to even find out what you're working on, farm hands would be a security risk, huh?"

Neither of them say anything, though Mr. Flaherty awkwardly looks at Miss Teschmacher for a moment.

I shake my head, not wanting to get him in trouble. "It makes sense. We mostly have other Amazons working at the embassy, or other people Mom's known for a long time. Sometimes, we get… People who probably shouldn't work there applying for positions."

Miss Teschmacher nods. Mom says that she always phrases it like that because people assume it's some sort of sex thing. Actually, the real problem comes from spy agencies and people working for criminals. If Mom was body-shy she wouldn't have spent decades fighting crime in a metal swimsuit.

I don't really… I don't have a costume, but if I actually started being a full time superhero I'd probably copy Conner's old style rather than wear something skin-tight. I mean, a solar suit would do more for me than him, but…

It has some really bad memories for me.

"Okay, so where are we going next?"

Miss Teschmacher checks her planner for a moment. "How.. about.. we check out the fields, and you can see the planting robots in action, then I can show you what you'll be doing for the rest of the day?"

I smile at her. "Sounds good. Ah, how smart are they?"

"About as smart as the sampler robots. We're not running an AI slave plantation."

"No, I didn't mean-."

"AIs that intelligent are far too expensive." And she smiles like it's a joke, but she did just kind of imply that they would if they were cheaper. They did with the genomorphs, even if they tried blaming Jim Harper. "This way."

 

[Mr Zoat]

April 27th, 2013
09:29 EST

I didn't really appreciate how big this place is.

The entrance is right next to the workshop and the greenhouses, and obviously I didn't fly here. And I know the idea that Lex Luthor ordered everything in LexCorp to be lead lined is kind of a joke, but x-ray vision gets kinda blurry if you try staring through too many walls. And they've got trees along the road…

But from here I can see all of the annual crops, and the smaller flowering plants, and it's all laid out in giant rectangular fields, with strong steel fences dividing them up.

The fields are really big, actually.

"How did you get those whole area this flat?"

"Hm?" Miss Teschmacher tears her own eyes away from the view. I… It might be a bit rude to think this, but I don't think that human eyes could really let her take this in like mine can. "Oh, huge amounts of low and semi-skilled labor with digging equipment. It's not exactly the Grand Canal, but it was fairly impressive to watch it all come together."

Each of the fields are fenced off from each other, with computer controlled gates between them. There are gravel and dirt roads, and… Drainage trenches at regular intervals. The robots are a bit like weird-shaped combine harvesters, and-.

I watch as one turns off a road and then… Lower itself, retracting its road wheels and lowering the broader and more rugged off-road wheels before manoeuvring onto the planting area.

"The plan required that we have precise control of the drainage and microbial content of the soil. The first thing that was produced here was the topsoil that now covers the farm."

"Do you use magic?"

She looks a little surprised. "Magic?"

"Yeah. Y'know. Gotham got buried in vines two years ago, and then there's what the Accala have done in Brazil… It looks like a growth industry. And.. I heard about LexCorp making that warded paper. But I… Guess we shouldn't talk about that."

"Perhaps that would be best." She gestures to a nearby SUV. "Shall we?"

She takes the driver's seat, and I climb into the passenger seat next to her. Huh, it's fully electric. I guess when the whole farm is run by robots you might as well take advantage of the fact that you have to run power cables everywhere anyway.

"But it's still a big deal. I just… Thought that even if most people can't be P-. Pamela Isley or Swamp Thing… It's something people could do?"

She presses the accelerator, and pulls the SUV out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"I see what you mean. But there are two problems. Firstly, while LexCorp has… Ah, tried to make connections with the magical community, there simply aren't that many magicians in America. Not ones with abilities that can be used on any sort of scale. As far as we can tell, magicians like Giovanni Zatara are actually very unusual, and are just born with far more raw power than most people. And then, when it comes to growing plants better, most of the magicians who could do something we might have been able to work with didn't want to work with us."

"Why not?"

"Well, they were… Mostly… Ah… How do I put this? Well, they liked the simple life."

"Simple? Like, living in a cabin in the woods and living on what they grow for themselves?"

"That's…" She looks a little awkward. "More or less it. People who reject modernity don't have much time for agri-business. So between them and the rarity of powerful and knowledgeable wizards, it hasn't really been something that we've been able to try out. I think that.. some part of the company was trying to reach out to Atlantis, but between KordTech and the Orange Lantern Corps, most of their more adventurous magicians were already fully employed."

We stop at a gate, and she leans out of her seat and holds up her badge to a scanner. A moment passes and then there's a happy-sounding beep and the gate starts to open.

"How about just buying a magic book?"

"We…" She nods. "We did do that. The problem was that Atlanteans live under water, and the spells needed to grow things in the air are very different. Seaweed just isn't a mass appeal product on land, and I don't think that's going to change."

She drives us through the gate, and it closes behind us. This field… Looks like potatoes. Two planting robots are still planting the far side of the field.

"So what's happening in this field?"

"Ah, with these potatoes we're trying to increase their nutrient count while trying to make them grow a more regular size. They're also a little hardier and more disease resistant than most current potato brands, but those are modifications that we've already researched."

"Is the size of potatoes really a problem?"

"I wouldn't say that it's a problem, but there's an optimal size where the plant efficiently turns nutrients into potato without creating a potato that's awkward to dig out or use in factory processes. If we can make every potato the same size you'd be amazed at the savings we can make on large volumes."

"I guess I'm used to smaller scale farming." I shrug. "Amazons have only been farming potatoes for about a year."

"Oh? I assumed they either weren't interested in outside produce or they'd have started growing them decades ago."

"Ah… Orange Lantern… He brought a shipping container of outside food to Themyscira a few years ago. That got them interested in a few things."

And it did, but the reason they started farming potatoes was because Cassie started nagging them about making fries. And I don't think that Lex Luthor knows about Cassie yet.

I look over to where one of the robots has finished a row. It pulls onto the road, turns in a circle and then drives back onto the growing bed, giving me a better look at its digging tools. It has a kind of cylinder cutting tool, which it punches into the ground and then uses to dig out a cylinder of earth, watched by a whole bunch of cameras so that the robot can see exactly what the soil is doing. The seed potatoes are in a little hopper just to the side, and a separate arm picks it up and plants it once the robot decides that the hole is the right depth. Then the cylinder shakes and deposits the earth back in broken lumps. And then the robot drives forward-.

Huh. It's working on several plantings at once. Two rows of four, then it drives forwards for the next set.

"Do you think they'd be interested in anything we could provide?"

"Ah… They might be? But I don't think they'd want plants that don't produce their own seeds. Or… If that's what you sold them, they've got a few priestesses of Demeter, so…"

She raises her eyebrows. "They could make them fertile?"

"I don't know. Probably. Or Demeter could."

We turn a corner, and start driving parallel to the path being taken by the closest robot.

"Do the robots use the same tools for everything, or do they have different modules they can swap in and out?"

"Different modules, and the machine that swaps them in and out is entirely automated. It can even do basic maintenance, though Mister Flaherty handles anything complicated."

The robot finishes its planting action and then stops, retracting its tools inside its chassis. Then it deploys its road wheels… While keeping its dirt wheels down?

Did I get the wrong-?

It turns on the spot, churning up the earth around it, and then drives towards the road we're on.

"Okay. Ah. Is it supposed to be doing-"

The SUV's engine dies and the robot accelerates hard.

"-that?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

April 27th, 2013
09:35 EST

Miss Teschmacher frowns at the robot. "No, and neither-"

The robot keeps accelerating, and large saw blades deploy from-

"-is that. Emergency override!"

-hatches on its side.

Oh, right. She's not a superhero or supervillain. She's just a business-

I turn in my seat, grab hold of her, jump out of the SUV with her in my arms and run get out of the robot's-

The robot slams into the SUV, bowling it over onto its side and then onto its roof before the saws bite into the lightweight chassis. Then it slides, the saws alternating between gripping and cutting until they hit the main battery-

BANG!

-which explodes!

-way, and then keep going because that wasn't an electromagnetic pulse so while I don't think LexCorp hardens its agricultural robots it wouldn't have damaged it anyway.

-woman. I look around-. Yeah, the other robot in this field has switched to all-wheel drive and is heading towards us while the one closest to us is trying to pry its saws free.

I could easily get away. They can't fly, and they don't have any anti-air weapons. I mean, I'd get away, but if they had lasers or something they could hurt Miss Teschmacher. And the gates couldn't stop me just smashing through them or jumping over them. I could probably melt these robots with heat vision in a couple of seconds.

But I'm pretending to be human.

"What the hell!"

Miss Teschmacher's arms are wrapped around my neck hard enough that if I was human it would probably hurt. But she's not trying to fight me off or anything, so I guess she's got decent survival instincts.

"Ah, Emergency override! Shut down!"

"The shutdown command is 'shut down'?"

"We don't want to make it hard to remember! This shouldn't-. Enginehead, take manual control!"

"Who?"

Okay, pretending to be human. The ground looks dry, but if they've been rotavating it so it'll probably be fairly loose. The robots weigh more than me, but using all their wheels, the robots have their weight spread more. I should stay on the roads as much as possible.

"Engine-. He's LexCorp's A.I. system. He should be-. Their microphones are off."

"They have microphones?"

CLANGclankclank!

The first robot shakes the SUV off its saws and awkwardly swings around. Second robot coming up on my right as I head back the way we came. Slow down, stop-

"What are you-? Keep going!"

-and wait for it to accelerate more because it's calculating speed and acceleration and it won't commit if it thinks I've got time to dodge.

"I did a training course."

"On getting run over?!"

The second robot deploys its saws. They give it better reach in case I dodge the main chassis. But given how fast it's moving and the structure of the soil-.

I turn and sprint for the gate, careful to keep it to 'fast human' speed. I mean, most people don't know exactly where the line is between what's possible for a really fit human and what isn't. Bridal carrying an adult woman while running away from truck-sized robots? I should be breathing hard by now. And I can't fake that, because kryptonians can hyperventilate. But she's almost certainly not going to notice.

"No. Escaping Mom's enemies."

Behind us, the robot-. Their wheels have independent drive? I didn't realise-. It slews around a lot quicker than I thought it would, but it still loses speed and slides sideways as it turns too quickly. And better yet, the first robot loses line of sight… Darn it. It doesn't stop coming, but it does slow down and turn… It turns to cut us off if we can't get through the closest gate and I have to run for the next closest one.

"Ah, okay, sorry. Are you alright..? Carrying me?"

"You're not that heavy. Is there anything else that can shut them down?"

"Ah-h… There's an override in the main facility…"

"Is there one on the robot?"

"No, because if something went wrong approaching it would be dangerous!"

I glance back as the second robot gets fully onto the road and pours on the speed.

"Yeah, I think you're right!"

"Their cameras should still work!"

The robot right behind me accelerates to about thirty miles an hour, faster than a human can run without super powers. Looks like that's as fast as it can go, but it's still gaining on us.

"Can it lip read?"

"No, but it can read text!"

"I mean, great, but how does that help?"

She goes quiet as I reach the gate and she slams the emergency release button. The robot heading for us isn't slowing down. A full-on impact… The gate isn't that tough, but the robot isn't armoured. I think the gate would go down, but the robot would still get damaged.

The gate doesn't open, and it doesn't open as she rattles it.

"It's not opening!"

"I noticed. You got any idea? Because the best I've got is we let the robot ram the gate and then rush through before it recovers."

She thinks for a moment as the robot barrels towards us.

"You got a notebook?"

"No, you said no recording devices. Wait, would that work?"

"If the camera weren't working then it wouldn't go anywhere. It's the same interpretation program for written words and physical objects. Without it, they.. just don't work." … "Can you boost me over the gate?"

I look up… The gate's pretty tall and it's got those curved over spikes to stop people climbing up. "I don't think so. And I definitely can't stop the robot ramming the gate, knocking you off and killing you."

"Fuuuck!" She takes a breath. "So, what, dodge again?"

"It's the best idea I've got."

I guess I could… Come out and swear her to secrecy, but while I want to help my father, I'm not dumb enough to actually trust him.

"Okay, put me down. I'm wearing flats, I can dodge-."

"I get trained by Amazons." Left or right? Camera distribution looks even, no obvious damage. Other robot moving to my right to block the next gate which means left is better. "I can dodge better. Are they networked?"

"They-." She sees how close it's getting. "They aren't designed to communicate with each other, just the central hub!"

Okay, just gotta judge this right… Closer…

"Mitchell!"

Now!

Whir!

CLANGCRUNCH!

 

[Mr Zoat]

April 27th, 2013
09:38 EST

Gate's down, robot's… Impaled, and the other robot is headed this way. I run back towards the… Burst gate, and-.

"Did it get you? Are you hurt?"

It might have.

"If it did, I can't feel it yet."

Shirt feels like it might be a bit loose, so the blade might have clipped me. I've got a couple of fake blood capsules in case I need to fake an injury, so once I get a moment I can play it off as a flesh wound.

"It hit you with a circular saw! Those things aren't sterile!"

Okay, the robot is weakly trying to free itself. There are gaps between the gate and the fence, but the saw arms are still mobile and easily within range. The robot could be faking… But I don't think so. I dash closer to the rear left corner of the robot's chassis; not right behind in case it can accelerate backwards, but close enough that I can reach the inspection ladder.

Miss Teschmacher pulls herself closer to me. "What are you doing?"

"The hole's not big enough. But if we climb over the robot-."

"Okayokay, that makes sense."

She lets go of my shoulders and grabs the rungs in a death grip, and I take hold of her hips and shove her upwards. It takes her a moment to unclasp her hands, but then she gets her feet on the rungs and nervously climbs up to the top of the robot.

For a moment I think about using heat vision on the saws or something, make it look like they overheated. But this is a LexCorp robot; if anyone's going to be able to tell the difference between an overload and heat vision damage, it's them.

"Okay, ah…" She's at the top, so I haul myself up after her. "I don't think I can jump that."

I reach the top myself and then take a moment to look at where the second robot-. Pretty close. And on the other side-.

I think the robot is trying to raise it's arms, but they're designed to cut things on the ground, not to take a swing at technicians standing on its back. It can't reach. And at the front, the gate is bowed around the hardest parts of the robot's interior while all the soft parts got embedded. If we go to the front of the robot and jump, we can sort of slide along the bent upper part of the gate and then jump down. Can't tell exactly how far it will sag, but it shouldn't help the robot get free.

"What's the problem? You can easily-."

"It's going to collapse!"

The other robot-. Out of time! I run forwards, pick her up and put her over my right shoulder-

"Hey!"

-take two steps forwards and jump-

And the moment I touch the gate it starts to collapse, which might not have been a problem if I wasn't putting two people's weight on it. So for a moment I don't, I fly, and then I fly forwards a little so it should look like I slid off before it collapsed. And then I stop flying and drop down onto the road in the next field.

CLANK!

"Ah!"

Whir!

I dash forward, the saw blade coming down just behind me as the partial collapse of the gate gives the robot a little more freedom to move.

"P-p-p-put me d-down."

I glance back as the fully functional robot makes its final approach. And I keep running with her on my shoulder.

"That's not a good idea. Weren't you there when those supervillains attacked LexCorp Headquarters?"

"Yes, and it was terrifying! I just hoped that Mister Luthor had a plan, but even if he does know what's happening communications are clearly compromised and we're at least twenty minutes away for LexCorp Security."

Her hands are on my arm, and I feel her squeeze my bicep.

"No security on-site?"

"It's a farm! We don't-!"

CHUN-CRUNCH!

I don't look back as the second robot smashes into the rear end of the first one-

BANG!

-but I hear it as the front robot flips over with the gate as a fulcrum and lands on its roof, flattening the wreckage of the gate.

"Oh God."

"How's the back robot look?"

"Like it's going to kill us!"

"Is it moving?"

"Ah… It's backing off. Backing off?"

Huh. "It was pretty stupid to try ramming like that. Low gear would have been better, for high power. It could probably have just shoved the other robot out of the way without taking any damage."

"It's accelerating again!"

Crunch-shhhhhhh.

"It shoved the other robot out the way!"

What does she want me to say about that? Ah… "Thank you for letting me know?"

"There's no need to be sarcastic! I think my response is pretty normal!"

I guess not. "Is it damaged? Has it slowed down?"

"The front's crumpled a little. The wheels look fine. It's getting faster!"

If it's drive system isn't damaged then it's going to catch us before we get back to the research buildings. And-. It could do a lot of damage. Most of those buildings don't look all that tough, and there are other people working here. Maybe..? Maybe I can get her inside, smash it up and say that Superman did it?

"What's the evacuation plan?"

"Get out the front door and let security handle it when they get here! We don't-!"

BOOM!

A noise from behind and the ground shakes-.

"Oh."

"What?"

"It exploded."

I jog to a stop and then turn around. The robot-. It looks like it-.

BOOM!

A second missile slams into it and detonates, knocking it sideways and finishing it off. I follow the contrail back and magnify-.

A LexCorp security helicopter. I guess… They were faster than she thought they'd be?

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th November 1999
21:15 GMT

In theory, having an in with the Tok'Ra could be very useful. If I can convince them that supporting System Lord Bastet is in the best interests of humans generally, she could get access to a very useful spy network as well as the ability to supply them with whatever they need to increase their ability to act against their shared enemies. And while they're occupied with that, we can tech up, start annexing the weakened ones…

Because the only way this 'ends' well for me is if Bastet becomes Supreme System Lord. Or a diarch with Kali, that works fine for me too. Works best for humans, works best for non- and minimally- crazy goa'uld, and works best for the Tok'Ra too because they can focus on human uplift once the more objectionable parts of goa'uld society have been done away with. Or retasking themselves to acting as internal affairs investigators for the joint throne, fighting recidivist goa'uld on their behalf.

I don't think the Tok'Ra would be convinced by that argument due to it actually making sense, but I'll give it a go at some point.

But for now…

For now I've got to make preparations in case Heset wasn't lying to me. Because if there's one thing I can't do, it's produce goa'uld sperm. In fact, having… Had to review goa'uld physiology I'm not sure that 'male' goa'uld have sperm. Certainly, some goa'uld prefer male hosts and some prefer female, but…

I sort of assumed that the goa'uld reproductive system was parasitic as well, and then stopped looking at it because how was it ever going to be relevant to me? Plenty of goa'uld have concubines, a few marry other goa'uld and maintain long term relationships, but… The physical attraction comes from the host body. As for reproducing… System Lord Yu has sired many children on his concubines, and they serve as administrators throughout his region of space. None are reported to be superhuman, though I haven't taken a close look myself.

The child of two hosts would be a harcesis, a human with goa'uld genetic memory. Making those is very illegal, and not something that I have any intention of risking. Because the fact they can exist means that non-queen goa'uld can pass on their genetic memory sexually, though I've got no idea why it requires two goa'uld parents and it's not as if I want to experiment.

But there lies the problem. Goa'uld queens require samples of genetic material from the host population in order to create compatible goa'uld. Presumably, a goa'uld queen can determine whether she's going to create new goa'uld or a new human foetus because Am-Heh seems sure that the usual way for them to get those genetic samples is through sex.

Which… Raises a rather disturbing question on how new species are added to the pool of available hosts. Goa'uld mostly uses unas hosts before discovering humans, and Bastet used to use sekhmets as hosts. Which… Means that adaptation by queen isn't the only way to handle things..?

Don't know.

Unfortunately, Am-Heh doesn't have a lot of information on the exact biological systems involved. Which means that I'm left with the distinct possibility that if Bastet does choose me as the sire of her next batch, she might pick up on the fact that I don't have goa'uld genetic memory. And even if I scanned another gou'ald and put their secretions into my body -an idea I'm not exactly excited about- it wouldn't have Mammon's memories. Or my memories.

Which would blow this whole thing, and somehow I don't think she'd find it funny. Which means that I need to get Mammon's memories at the very least. I might be able to claim that the more recent stuff hadn't bedded in enough for transference yet, or the whole 'under a mountain' thing disrupted it. Goa'uld don't appear to have much interest in studying exactly how their own bodies work, so I doubt that she would simply gainsay me. She might be surprised, but she wouldn't know and she's perfectly capable of altering her spawn's behaviour-.

I'm trying not to think about how many of my children would end up getting eaten. That's something that I'm... Going to want to do something about if they actually end up being mine.

Anyway. I do have samples of Mammon's genetic material. I found his crushed remains -and those of his host- a few weeks into my stay here while I was making the interior of the ship safe for habitation. And with those genetic samples I could grow a new Mammon, basically identical to the old one thanks to goa'uld genetic memory.

Except, then what? I don't want to stick him in my head and give him control of my body. Even if I kept control of the ring. There's no point in assimilating him. Wait, no, there's a small point, because I'd get the knowledge that he had, but I don't really need that. But his secretions… They alone would let me fake being him a little better.

And…

I'm staring at the power ring on my left ring finger.

What… If I can impose my own desires on his biology?

I mean… I've got no idea how goa'uld memory encoding works-.

But the Altairians do. Teal'c 1 went mad because Harlan mixed up the Jaffa and goa'uld parts of his mind. Which means that they… Can implant knowledge from a goa'uld onto a machine. But that doesn't mean that they can do it the other way.

Ring magic it is, then.

I fabricate a fish tank, fill it with water and then clone Mammon. The clone is dead, but all of the desires should be contained within his biological structure.

Hopefully.

Breathe in. Breathe out. See the shape of his desires, the desires inherent in his form.

Dead flesh. No light. Look beyond it. Look through it.

In the orange light I see something grand-.

I gasp, blinking, the vision slipping away.

I saw… Something. And… Huh. Not sure what it was, but I'm… Definitely seeing something now when I look at Mammon 2. That's… Weird. Useful, but…

I've occasionally wondered why the power ring even works here. No Guardians or Controllers, no… Mention of them having existed at any point in the past. Only one personal lantern and no power ring other than the one I'm wearing. It clearly does work, but does it work on the same principles? Is there some sort of underlying emotional… Layer to the universe?

Do I want there to be?

I shake my head. Hardly my choice.

Mammon's desire structures are actually shallower than those of most goa'uld I've met. Somehow. But if I push here and pull here…

Desire dubbing.

Guh.

Okay, that… Looks a bit more like me… I think..? How about..? Specific memories? No, that didn't seem to-.

Okay, those desires came from somewhere, so… Expand upon that desire with actual information.

…

And the only way I could check that it's worked would be by making Mammon alive and asking, which I'm not going to do. Still, the worst that could happen here is that I get regular Mammon memories in my blood, so I guess I'll give it a go.

Activate glands manually. Don't activate his brain. And I need to collect… That stuff? Scan and analyse, and add that to my blood and put Mammon in subspace just in case.

Okay, one potential crisis averted, probably. Now back to the other ninety nine.

 

[Mr Zoat]

April 27th, 2013
09:59 EST

"Otis, what the h-?" Miss Teschmacher bites down whatever she was going to say. "What was that?"

"Oh, you don't need to worry-"

"I got chased around by a killer farming robot, I think I-"

"-about the billing."

"-need to-. What?"

"You don't need to worry about the billing. They were previous generation missiles we had in inventory. Not good enough for rich countries and not cheap or simple enough for poor ones. They were already written off, so there's no need for internal billing."

"I wasn't worried about the billing, Otis. I was worried about dying!"

"Sure, you were worried about dying. That's natural. But you didn't die. The robots which tried to kill you got destroyed, and we're loading them up for full decommissioning now."

She sighs. "And I'll have to talk to the police…"

"Ah, why?"

"For insurance. And because someone took a swing at LexCorp and we don't have the resources we used to so we can't be sure we can find them better than the police can. It's not like we're doing anything illegal here."

"Ah…"

"Are we?"

"I mean, I don't think so? I do security, not farming law. Do you wanna talk to Legal?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Okay, what did you mean?"

"Why aren't we telling the police?"

"Because we know who did it. And you know Mister Luthor says that the insurance companies are held together with paper and rainbows these days."

"So we're just not claiming-? We know who did it?"

"Sure. It's not complicated. And yeah, whole classes of assets lost insurance during the Anti-Life thing because there were too many claims to pay out. Most LexCorp stuff isn't financially insured."

"It can't have been the Justice League. He's Wonder Woman's son."

"Of course it wasn't the Justice League. The medic checked you out, right? You didn't get hit on the head? Concussion can be-."

"I didn't get hit on the head."

"Now, you say that, but concussion can interfere with your short term memory, and… I don't want to have to insist, but-."

"Fine, I'll get checked out. So who was it?"

"Normal procedure. For recuiting-."

"Who are-? No. Otis, do not tell me you were trying to do a Wounded Gazelle Gambit?"

"Technically, no. It's really more of a heroic honeypot saviour complex thing. The idea is-."

"I know what the idea is! It's basically the only reason why Janet in reception still has a job!"

"Right. So, we put the potential recruit who's been keeping their powers quiet somewhere with someone, and they reveal those powers to them in order to keep them safe. Psychologically, it reinforces-."

"I just said I know what the idea is."

"But you're acting like you don't, so-."

"That plan calls for using an attractive woman close to the target's age. He lives with Wonder Woman, and a island full of Amazons."

"Heh, yeah. I don't see the problem."

"Ah-. O-kay… Thank you..?

"Most teenaged guys aren't really that fussy about secondary stuff when it comes to short term attraction. A positive response from an attractive woman as more or less the same effect, regardless of relative attractiveness."

"He got cut, Otis."

"No, he came out of the tube like that."

"With the robot's circular saw. He was bleeding. Did we power the robots with kryptonite again? Because from a farming point of view, that's a really problematic independent variable."

"No? There shouldn't be anything here powerful enough to hurt him."

"Something was."

"Uh… We never.. did find out how the Alien stabilised his brain. I suppose they… Might have induced some sort of extra weakness, based on Project K-R's physiology."

"Are you kidding me right now? Those robots aren't cheap, Otis! We didn't check if he even has powers?!"

"… Huh."

"What exactly was the plan if I got cut in half? What was the plan if he got cut in half?"

"I've got a funeral suit."

"That's it?! So the robots attacked us, and if he couldn't fight them off or just decided that I wasn't worth losing his secret identity over, we died?!"

"No, of course not. I was on overwatch, and Enginehead could take control at any point. I just couldn't come close in case he heard the rotor blades."

"At any point?"

"Well, okay, there'd be a slight delay; the system isn't really designed for that sort of control. But-"

"Geee-zus!"

"-I don't think that would have happened. Did you actually see the cut?"

"W-? Ye-. No, not the actual cut, but I saw blood!"

"The Alien has used jam, ketchup and red ink mixed with P.V.A. to fake wounds before. You shouldn't assume he got hurt unless you saw it with your own eyes."

"So you think..? He was always safe, and the only reason it looked like we were in danger is that he doesn't want to use powers in front of me?"

"Yeh."

"Are you sure Lex signed off on this?"

"I was right there when he said it. Normal procedure."

"We can't do the same thing again. He might call on his friends and family to investigate."

"That's a good point. Hm. I'll need to review the tapes and see if he was using his powers just a little. If we can spot that, you could talk to him about that in 'confidence'."

"As long as you don't expect me to actually honeypot him."

"He's three years old, Eve. I don't think-."

"He's three!?"

I give my head a small shake, returning my hearing to focusing on my immediate environment: the sky way above the farm complex, high enough that I can't be seen from the ground. It's a.. shame, but… I guess compared to some things LexCorp's done it's not that bad. I'll just have to keep in mind that next time they try, it's a fake.