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

[Mr Zoat]

14th April
15:01 GMT -5

Christopher -a man who has been happily married for eight years- takes a moment to look Koriand'r over.

"Thought you were dating that Chinese girl?"

"Vietnamese, and I am. This is my colleague Lantern Koriand'r. Koriand'r, this is Christopher-."

He raises his hands slightly. "Seriously, it's Chris."

"-Chris, and he was the man who taught me to shoot conventional firearms."

Koriand'r smiles at him. "You are a warlord?"

"Ah… No, a range master. I've been.. shooting pretty much every day since I was eight."

"I have as well! Who were you shooting?"

He shrugs. "When I was in the army it was mostly Eastern European assholes, but I haven't actually had to shoot a person since I mustered out. Not with a real gun I mean; I've been paint balling with the guys a few times. You?"

"Mercenaries, pirates and raiders. Vega is much more violent than the space around Earth!"

"I… Guess we're just lucky that way. You.. wanna learn how to use Earth guns, or are you here for the Cobra?"

"You have a pet snake? I have never seen a snake!"

"I'll add a zoo to the itinerary." I look at Christopher. "May as well."

He nods, and turns away to lead us into the workshop. When I first started coming here this is where they did lessons on gun maintenance. Those still happen, but recently we've been working on another project.

"Hey, you wanna explain this thing or do you want me to do it?"

"America and my own country of origin have very different cultural practices when it comes to gun ownership. When I-."

"First thing he said when he came here: 'I'm a poor European who's never held a gun in my life and I think they belong in the hands of police officers and soldiers and I need your violent colonial help learning how they work so I don't get my ass killed'."

"And he thinks that's what my accent sounds like. But, yes, when I was just starting out, this was where I came to learn gun-handling. Because unlike Vega -and certain boroughs of New York- Britain has had no violent internal disputes since the Good Friday Agreement stopped our last internal insurgency and I never had a need to use a gun."

"If you know how to use it and don't need it, you don't have a problem." Christopher unlocks a large safe and takes out a reinforced case. "If you don't know and you need it, then you've got a problem."

"If you make an item available for sale to sensible people, you inevitably make it available for sale to less sensible people. It's easier to get a gun in this country than a car."

"Vega has a lot of guns. Do you want some?"

Christopher grins. "Space guns? Oh hell yeah!"

"If you want to get raided by the FBI, the NSA, the CIA, the ATF and the NRO all at the same time then go right ahead."

"Think I could take 'em with mother fucking space guns! Suck my Second Amendment, Alphabet Men!"

"Koriand'r, please don't give or sell weapons to anyone on Earth without consulting me first."

"Of course, Illustres."

"Bah! Still a fuckin' British pussy."

"Careful, Christopher, your knuckles are dragging."

"Oohk! Oohk! Oohk!"

I chuckle quietly as he unlocks the case.

"See, what Paul wanted to work on was… See, Jerry… One of my guys, Jerry, read something about the AK-Forty Seven…" He points to an American-made version on the wall. "Overtaking the gladius as the deadliest weapon ever. And it's not because it's a great gun…" He shakes its head. "It's not. It's got massive recoil in full-auto; you can barely hit a thing. It's the deadliest weapon ever because it's simple and reliable. You can bury that thing in mud for a week, clean it off with a brush and it'll work fine. And that means it's cheap, so everyone uses it."

"I wanted to know if we could do better."

Because as much as I love cold guns they are not easy to maintain if you don't have a power ring or the intellect of a criminal genius.

Christopher nods, and pulls out the Cobra.

"It occurred to me that the most complex part of the AK-Forty Seven was the ammunition. So we got rid of it."

Christopher pulls out the magazine and removes a single round.

"This is just a lump of iron. The gun uses magnetic fields rather than explosives, which cuts down on maintenance even more. The capacitors make the gun more expensive, but it pays that real quick."

He puts the magazine back it and turns the gun on.

"I wanted to have a solid ammunition block, but the mechanism we'd have needed to put in there to shave it off added too much to the cost."

"As it is, it's cheap, reliable, accurate and can be recharged anywhere with an electric supply. There's no explosive, so full-auto is just as accurate as single shot and burst fire. Rate of fire isn't as good as good assault rifles, but it's better than an AK. Batteries and capacitors just come off-" He takes them off and puts them back on again. "-and can be replaced with more expensive versions for higher performance..?"

I take a bleed torsion generator module out of subspace and pass it to him and he grins as he slots it in. I don't let him keep this on-site just in case, but if we're testing the other parts of the gun it makes more sense to not make us swap the battery out quite so often. Christopher loves it because he's a closet hillbilly.

"The gun has a dial for the power output of each shot."

Christopher leads the way into the range, where quite a few of the lanes are occupied. I'm still not sure whether or not there's a 'peak season' for ranges, but with all of the violence I've seen on this Earth… Alright, conventional firearms wouldn't be all that useful against a lot of it, but I can understand people being more eager to arm themselves even if their popguns wouldn't do anything to -for example- a titan made of water. And even for an anti-private gun ownership proponent like me… I can see how knowing that some people have built-in laser cannons does shift the terms of the debate.

Christopher puts on a set of headphones as Sharon -one of the instructors- spots us and tells the group she's tutoring who we are. They immediately step back, the man who had been firing disarming his weapon before they head over to watch us.

Christopher walks over to an unused range, and I spot someone… I don't recognise as a regular do a double-take at seeing me and then stare at Koriand'r. Christopher attaches a target and then sends it halfway down the range and he takes a firing stance.

"Since there's not much recoil, you don't really need to brace in the same way, which takes a bit of getting used to. You still need to be able to keep the weight of the gun on-target, but if you can do that, you can fire it one-handed accurately. This version's this long because more coils are cheaper than really good capacitors, but if-" He looks away from his target at the gathering audience. "-anyone feels like shelling out, I know a guy who can make a short version. Just don't tell the ATF I told you."

He smiles and takes aim.

"I really like this gun."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
08:03 GMT +1

"I'm just-." Thaddeus's face starts going red. "I'm going-. To-. Recalibrate the temporal synchroniser. Ah… Again."

"I'm sorry about messing up time, Thaddeus, but there really wasn't much-"

To my right Koriand'r leans closer to study a large tubular device and then backs off as Georgia swings a rolled up New Scientist at her.

"-alternative, and I don't have anything like the knowledge of temporal mechanics I'd need in order to have done something else."

He flashes me a quick smile.

"No one here is going to criticize anyone else for altering space-time however you want. It's just that there are consequences."

"Would you like Lantern Koriand'r to help you?"

Behind me, Georgia rolls her eyes, while in her brother's head the awkwardness he feels at being in close quarters with a stunningly attractive woman wars with his pride as a mad scientist.

"Is she an expert in temporal mechanics?"

"No, but I'm trying to give her an idea of what Earth's civilisation is like, and I think your work is a good example of what the most advanced science and technology our species can produce looks like."

"That's.. true. Okay. Sure." He manages to look at her as she smiles appreciatively. "I'll show you my workshop, Koriand'r."

"Thank you, Thaddeus. I am very interested to see what you have made!"

"Right-. Ah, right this way."

Arms held rigidly at his side, Thaddeus leads Koriand'r over to his work station on the far side of the subterranean workshop where the villainous part of the Sivana family keep their 'active research' projects.

"Honestly."

"Be reasonable, Georgia. You're both young, and neither of you have a lot of social contact with people outside of the community."

"Please tell me that you didn't bring her here just to dangle her in front of Junior."

"Of course not. I assumed that if he responded at all that he'd respond in the way your father did to your mother when they first met; with stilted formality."

"Father didn't think it was appropriate for supervillains to study etiquette."

"Oh. So I assume that he doesn't have a great deal of experience with girls."

"To put it mildly."

"While… You have a great deal of experience with boys?"

"Vril called my input into beam weapon design 'insightful'."

"Gosh. That's coluan for 'take me now, big girl'."

Her eyes widen a fraction. "Is it?"

"Well, coluans don't usually conceptualise romantic relationships in the way that humans do, but… Pretty much. I only know-"

And she blushes just as badly as her brother does.

"-one female coluan, but I can ask her to confirm it if you like."

"What do-? Female coluans look like?"

"… Green?"

Her eyes narrow slightly. "You know perfectly well that's not what I meant."

"Most coluans are currently being mind controlled by an AI network on their homeworld, so their bodies are optimally healthy. Of the two coluans I know who don't live on their homeworld, both are athletic, but both work in military occupations and one has a power ring."

"Standard… Humanoid… Physiques?"

"Georgia, I can't believe that you're this self-conscious about your appearance. If you don't like something, change it."

"But this is me. I don't expect-" She regards me for a moment. "-you to understand, but I want to recognise myself when I look in a mirror."

"You think-? Georgia, I didn't look anything like this good when I arrived from Earth Prime."

"You… Didn't?"

"No. I have an orange power ring. Tuning myself up was the.. second thing I did. I didn't make any radical changes; just.. a general enhancement and a few cosmetic modifications I'd wanted to make for a while. I certainly haven't had any trouble recognising myself. And… If you thought that might be a problem then you could just put your original body in suspended animation and transfer your brain into a new one."

"Yes, I.. could… I'm not metaphorically attached to everything…"

"Or don't. I doubt that Dox will care, so it's really just about boosting your confidence and.. happiness."

I suppose there's no good way to bring it up… Ring, are there any possums in Germany?

Only in zoos and private collections.

"You..? Are you aware why your elder-?"

"Why our parents divorced? Yes, I am aware that Father decided to ensure that we would look like him so that we would share his outlook on life." She thoughtfully strokes her chin. "I suppose that there is a conceptual link: if we're going to make this 'new leaf' thing our preferred approach for the foreseeable future then I simply have no need for an additional reason to reject society any longer."

"Speaking of new leaves..?"

"We did have an early warning system set up, then somebody rewrote the laws of temporal mechanics."

"It was that or risk losing our entire continuity."

"I'm not accusing you; we're not hypocritical enough to seriously object to other people's forays into 'angry' science. I am simply pointing out why we won't be able to give anyone advanced warning at the moment. We have been able to identify a large number of people fitted with spine riders, and we've sent search and destroy squads to their breeding centres."

"Um."

"They were clearly instructed to minimise collateral damage. But we can't save everyone."

"Give me a list and their remains. I'll get the missing persons' cases closed."

"If you think that's important. And the… Other matter?" I nod. "I'm not used to having to model with so little direct data. But there's definitely something going on. But given the complexity, I think a full investigation will have to wait until after the Sheeda are destroyed."

"That's probably for the best. If nothing else, there's a better than average chance that it's them."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
12:31 GMT +3

"Do you not think that was rude?"

"Koriand'r, if I didn't pull you away then my countrywomen would never let you go."

"Is it not good that they are so friendly?"

"That's a little complicated." We emerge into Erebos and I take the lead as we fly towards Lord Hades' palace. "I want them to learn to leave the island. If they can get what they want -which includes stunningly attractive alien warrior-women- by staying at home, they get disincentivised."

"You..? Think I am stunning?"

I glance at her with a frown. "Yes, you.. are? Especially to a warrior culture that holds physically capable women in high regard. Themyscira has been in voluntary isolation for most of the past two thousand years, so anything new gets a lot of attention… What?"

"Stunning?"

"Seriously?"

"I grew to womanhood on Okaara, and the people of Okaara have standards of beauty that are not the same as those of Tamaran."

"Okay, yes, but surely there were other students?"

"The Warlords preferred to teach only small groups, and their lessons left little time for other matters. I was there to learn so that I could lead my people, not to entertain myself. And… Since I was betrothed, I did not want to risk becoming too attached to someone I would have to leave. I have never experienced romantic love, and my only experience of sex is being raped by Citadelian soldiers."

"Oh." Ah. I know that tamaraneans process trauma differently to humans, but… I don't.. really… "Are you..? Alright?"

"Yes?" She blinks. "Should I not be?"

"I… No, I'm glad that you are, but perhaps we should make time to discuss the life goals you have that aren't related to public service? It's a poor sort of Orange Lantern who doesn't get at least something for themselves, and Vega is hardly in the same sort of state it used to be in."

She smiles. "Do you wish to 'set me up' with someone? Did Rikane telling you that you were a betrothal-breaking villain make you so concerned?"

"I… Suppose that I'd like you to be happy..?"

"Perhaps with Alan?"

I actually fall slightly in the air.

"Um."

"You do not approve?"

"Alan.. is… Fairly old for a human. Um."

"But his body is fuelled by the light of hope."

"That's certainly true. But… Have you talked about his late wife? Because him… Being involved with someone… I certainly don't hate the idea, but I think it's something that you should think about carefully? With perhaps a greater understanding of human cultural norms than you currently have?"

She nods as we come in for a landing.

"That may be more wise."

Starfire and… Alan Scott? I wouldn't have even considered…

"Ho, Lanterns." A young-looking man with tanned skin and dark grey hair and wearing.. safari gear that's so stereotypical that it makes me blink, raises his right hand in greeting as he strolls out of the shadows of a pillar. "I was wondering how long I'd be here until I met you."

I bow, and Koriand'r follows suit. "Lord Zagreus. I wasn't expecting you."

"I'd be a poor hunt-god if my prey expected me." I-. "Oh, not like that. You simply managed to make me curious. What brings you back to the underworld?" He looks pointedly at Koriand'r and then back at me. "Not planning on parading her in front of my sister, I hope?"

"No, no. I simply wanted to ask her help in deciphering some dreams."

He smirks. "And you could hardly ask an oracle. But I'm hardly ignorant on the subject myself, even if you do prefer my sister's company."

"I meant no offence, my lord. I simply haven't had the pleasure of meeting you until today."

"But why not Hypnos? He lives not far from here. And general interpretation is more his bailiwick."

"Because I know Melinoë."

And I honestly can't remember whether Hypnos and Morpheus are distinct beings and I'd rather avoid things like the Endless if at all possible.

"Do you know what my sister spends her time doing?"

"No?"

"Custom mail order nightmares. People like them. I think people are even praying to her. A man called… Jonathan Crane?"

"Doctor Jonathan Crane, and that doesn't surprise me. He's insane and obsessed with fear but chemically incapable of feeling it without Melinoë's help."

"At least he's happy. Listen, I've got some… Bad news."

"What's that?"

"Your visits are setting off our mother's protective instincts. She's… Not cutting you off, exactly… But I'm supposed to chaperone you."

"Did she call you back from… Wherever you were, because-"

"Nairobi."

"-she thinks I'm going to abduct Melinoë? Because Melinoë could lock me in a never-ending series of horrifying nightmares."

He glances awkwardly away.

"Our.. mother is concerned that.. perhaps she wouldn't want to."

"So… What exactly is Queen Persephone's opposition to relevance in the modern world?"

"It's not the hobby. It's the man. And I don't think that having me along is really all that burdensome."

"Alright. I suppose you aren't really a problem. Where is Melinoë now?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
10:48 GMT

Melinoë absentmindedly rubs her arms as we look down at the Mother Star's unfocused eye. The lack of air doesn't seem to bother either her or her brother, but it seems that being this far from home is making her a little uncomfortable.

Or it could be the dead giant star starfish god thing, but I rather assumed that she was used to things like that.

She turns away from it, looking right at me instead.

"It's dead."

"Yes, I spotted that. Is it still dreaming?"

She rolls her eyes. "Stop reading Lovecraft. None of it is literally true."

"You weren't inspiring him then?"

"European folklore and racism inspired him. I didn't have anything to do with it. If a creature dies, it doesn't dream. Its soul might still have a connection to the Dreaming, its life might change the texture of part of the Dreaming, but it won't dream and it won't have nightmares. Living things have nightmares."

I bow my head slightly.

"So you're not getting anything from this?"

She opens her mouth slightly and then appears to think better of it, closing her lips and turning back to the Mother Star.

"If you want me to guide you through the Dreaming to someone who can actually answer you-."

"No. No, I'm perfectly happy to leave that particular can of worms well alone. I doubt that Morpheus would exactly be thrilled with the Host of the Ophidian popping by for a visit."

"If you dream, then you visit the Dreaming." Her head comes up slightly. "Did I really just have to say that?"

"I'm not so sure. No soul, remember. At least, originally. And I kept dreaming after coming here. I think that my dreams.. at least were just a reinterpreted mess of images thrown up by my brain ticking over while I slept."

"I suppose that's not entirely stupid. What about now?"

Huh. Alright, the magic I've integrated should mean that I'm just as capable of entering the Dreaming as anyone else. But would all of my warding disrupt that? Atlanteans have studied the process a little, but I'm a fairly unique case. There's nothing… That stands out to me as showing that my dreams changed between pre-soul and post-soul.

"Don't know. But I'm a Hellenist. Do you know anything about my nightmares?"

"I think it's too far away?"

"Hm? Oh, from Earth. Yes, I thought that might be a problem." I shrug. "I do actually know roughly where these things came from. If you want, we can hop between systems until we find a planet with a lively enough magic field to be worth investigating."

"And how long would that take?"

"Assuming that you can manage passage through the Honden of Avarice, perhaps an h-."

"No." Zagreus shakes his head. "Veto."

"If you're concerned for Melinoë's chastity, I assure you-."

"Oh, I'm not." He brings his right fist to his chest. "I'm not. But a demi-god like you bringing my sweet little sister into his place of power? Our mother would be quite upset."

"My lady Melinoë?"

She doesn't look around. "She probably would. She's been getting a bit… Weird about it."

"And your feelings on the subject?"

"Because my life is so incomplete without seeing the dreams of a dead starfish."

"I… I'm sorry, I can't tell whether you're being sarcastic or not. It sounds like you are, but you're the Goddess of Nightmares and Madness so you could-."

"And what would you do if I did want to go?"

"I would entreat your mother directly. Or swear an oath of her choice that whatever it is she fears happening would not happen. Or given that I'm reasonably sure that you're over eighteen-."

Zagreus narrows his eyes. "Can you afford to anger another deity?"

"I'm not sure. I talked Hera into divorcing Zeus and all that happened was that I got hit with lightning once. The Themysciran oracles have been glaring at me, but other than that I haven't noticed any fallout from the.. incident with Apollo. On the other hand, Eris, Hephaestus and your regal father have been genuinely helpful."

Zagreus regards me curiously. "I rather doubt that our father has been genuinely helpful yet. You are still alive."

"Except for when I wasn't. And just-" I shake my head. "-knowing that I have somewhere to go when I die is a tremendous weight off my mind. Try living in a purely material universe if you want some concept of my old ennui."

I let the glow of my environmental shield grow brighter, the normally skin tight orange outline gaining considerable volume.

"And I'm the philosophical leader of an organisation that believes quite strongly in personal fulfilment. If you want to go, then I'll deal with Queen Persephone as best I can."

Koriand'r frowns. "Why would you not simply fly from world to world?"

"Because that would take weeks. The Star Conquerors were a galactic threat, and some of the people who live in the places they once lived are pretty darn hostile. And I'm really not convinced that Persephone would be happier about me taking more time."

"I haven't even agreed to go anywhere with you!"

"When fishing with a rod, you bait the hook and then leave it there. You don't shove it in the fish's mouth."

Zagreus jabs at me with his right forefinger.

"That sort of comment bothers me, to say nothing of how our mother would feel-."

"Shut up, both of you." Melinoë straightens slightly. "I think I can feel something."

Melinoë's form… Changes. It's subtle, but her outline becomes slightly indistinct and her horns and colouration become slightly more pronounced. Direct Dreaming connection. I wonder if she'd mind us studying her?

"That's interest-."

And she vanishes.

…

Oooooooooh… Whoops.

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
06:14 GMT -5

John Quinn looks at the three of us through the entrance to the Tower of Fate.

"Is there a punch line..?"

Zagreus takes a moment to regard his right fist before lifting his eyes to John.

"There can be."

"Melinoë was taking a look at the Mother Star at my request and she disappeared. I would very much appreciate your help in working out what happened."

"Melinoë… You lost the Goddess of Nightmares and Madness?"

"I lost the Goddess of Nightmares and Madness in an incident related to a giant telepathic starfish god. As I'm sure that you can understand-."

"Yes, we should get on this right away." He steps out, closing the door behind him. Then he turns back to the Tower and opens it again. "Follow me."

We troupe through, and rather than the stony entryway that was on the other side of the door a moment ago, now we're wandering through his library's reading area. Koriand'r's head jerks around, her eyes open wide as she tries to take in everything with clear fascination. Zagreus just ignores it, marching ahead of John and sitting down hard on a leather upholstered bench.

"What do you need to find my sister?"

John walks over to a reading table and picks up a small… Ring box? Snuff box?

"Orange Lantern wanted Melinoë to take a look at the Mother Star. His mission report said that it had two different sets of memories relating to a species the Star Conquerors enslaved." He looks at me. "You thought it came from the Dreaming."

I nod. "It's a possibility I want to eliminate."

"So you went to the person you know who understands dreams the best and it blew up in your face." He smiles. "Very Constantine."

"No, no one's died yet."

"Early days. So you think she's in the Dreaming, and you want me to help find her."

"There's a portal to the Dreaming in Erebos, but we have no way to track her."

"A piece of the starfish would probably do it. You're the God of Hunting, aren't you?"

"I can't track through the Dreaming. Not reliably. The terrain isn't stable enough. I need someone who can impose order on it. And don't think for a moment I don't know what's in that box."

Koriand'r's head snaps around, staring at the box John pointedly isn't trying to conceal.

"What is in the box?"

"A little something John Constantine stole from under Morpheus's nose. Just a pinch of his powder." He looks at me. "Do you know the story? John said that you knew a lot he didn't think you should…"

"Morpheus has three tools of power: his gem, his helmet and his powder bag. I'm not sure exactly what they all do, but at… Some point John Constantine came into contact with the bag. When Morpheus got free of his prison, he got John's help tracking it down in exchange for getting rid of his nightmares. Somehow I'm not surprised that John kept a pinch."

"Risky. Even for him."

"The way he told me, it wasn't so much him taking it from the bag as realising that a dream-addled addict probably spilled a lot while she was using it."

That makes sense.

"Does it help us? If you want something in exchange-."

"I'm not sure I want to take the risk of receiving payment." He smiles, taking the box in his right hand and tapping it against the table. "We might be able to get Morpheus's attention with this, and he might be willing to help us. Or we could use it ourselves and try and find her without his help. Or we could enter the Dreaming physically through Erebos."

"Which do you recommend?"

"Does Morpheus have a grudge against any of you?"

I shake my head, and Zagreus and Koriand'r do the same.

"Does he have any reason to want to help?"

"I've never met Death, and I'm not sure that my dreams relate to the Dreaming. He might find that interesting enough to indulge me. Plus, I doubt that he wants the Goddess of Nightmares and Madness in residence long-term." I turn my head to the other two. "Any ideas?"

Koriand'r frowns. "What is 'Dreaming'?"

"The collective universal unconsciousness made of raw magic twisted into shapes by material concepts. Just about every being partially enters it when they dream, but there are other ways to access it and a lot of ways to use it."

John thinks for a moment, then nods. "That's a pretty good summary, actually. Skips a few pertinent points, but if we're not going there it doesn't really matter."

"Actually… Using the Dreaming might let us build magic-based interplanetary vessels. It would be far safer and simpler than flying through Hell." John bows his head slightly. "What?"

"So are we calling up Morpheus, then?"

"I don't have a glass jar full of demons… Zagreus?"

"Why would I have a glass jar full of demons?"

"No, I mean: do you have an opinion?"

"I have an opinion on a glass jar of demons, yes."

"Oh, some total prat of a caliph once talked Morpheus into taking everything that made his country great into the Dreaming by threatening to break open a glass orb full of demons. Morpheus turning up in person might have been coincidental but even if it wasn't I'm not going to try and find out."

"Good." He thinks for a moment. "I've only met Morpheus very briefly; he doesn't owe me anything and I don't owe him. But if the alternatives are trying to dream of nightmares and madness ourselves or trying to track him through that insanity, I favour politely asking for his help."

"Koriand'r?"

"I do not think I know enough for my view to be meaningful."

"John?"

He regards me thoughtfully. "You know the spells that bound him, don't you?"

Ah. Yes, he would work that out, wouldn't he?

"I… Might. That's the sort of spell you want to get right the first time, and I didn't understand the theory enough to know if what I saw was everything."

He nods.

"Don't tell him you know. Don't even refer to it. I'll set up a nice, friendly non-binding ritual space and we can ask him politely." I nod, and he makes eye contact with Zagreus and Koriand'r. "And that goes for you. Do not, under any circumstances, attack Dream of the Endless. Am I clear?"

They nod, and he walks over to the ritual space.

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
06:28 GMT -5

"That was a bit quick?"

John shrugs. "With demons you have to take your time, because if you make a mess of the binding then at best they kill you. But since we're not trying to bind Morpheus -just get his attention- it doesn't really matter."

I look the diagram over, applying my apprentice-level comprehension of magic ritual to what he's doing. Looks.. like a.. bound evocation without the focus circle this sort of ritual usually has.

"You haven't filled the spaces for active or passive links. Do you need me to get something?"

"A piece of the Mother Star should do."

"Any piece in particular?"

"If she touched a piece, that piece. Otherwise, no."

I nod and

step out,

reappearing in the physical universe on the skin of the Mother Star. The perspective of the starfish landscape and non-horizon throws me off for a moment, but then I look down and ignore it, cutting through the covering of rock and ice with an x-ionised knife to get at the flesh beneath. The size of it means that it's not practical for me to cut any singular part off, but a lump of meat should do it. Yeah, that looks fine.

I

reappear in the tower and hold it out to him.

"Anything else?"

He waves his right hand and a faint red.. disk forms under the meat and then floats it over to its position in the diagram.

"Do you have anything she owns?"

"Yes."

Zagreus pulls a.. photograph out of one of his pockets, steps forward and lays it face down in the diagram.

"Right then. That'll do for Melinoë, now for the dream."

He carefully opens the box containing… Not a lot of dream powder, and taps the tiniest portion into a pestle in which he's crushed some flowers and seeds. He then carries it into the centre of the ritual space.

"Any of you know anything about lucid dreaming?"

"I know I've never really done it."

Koriand'r shakes her head while Zagreus shrugs. "Gods don't dream in quite the same way that mortals do. My experience isn't relevant."

"Alright, well, make yourselves comfortable anyway."

I sit down, crossing my legs. Koriand'r copies me, while Zagreus stands at parade rest. John shrugs, then clicks his right middle finger against his right thumb, using sympathetic resonance to ignite the bowl. There's a puff of relatively normal smoke, then it… Becomes decidedly abnormal. It's.. twinkling, and there's a… Depth to the cloud that it clearly shouldn't have. It flows outward, almost reaching for John, Zagreus-. And Koriand'r. But apparently ignoring me.

Ah.

I don't want to mess this up because this ritual doesn't interact with my wards very well. I drop down my environmental shield and lean into the miasma as it flows past me. A… Slightly woody smell

which… Oh, I… See. I

blink and I'm almost completely back into the room. It's… Like I'm looking at their full emotional association network and… It takes me a moment to recognise what's happening now and what's past or imagined. Ordinarily I'd try to pull back, but I suppose-.

I look at myself as.. the room falls away slightly. It's still there, but it's less… Relevant. I'm… Larger, glowing with the orange light and for a disturbing moment I'm not sure whether I'm looking though the Ophidian's eyes or my own.

In Koriand'r I/we we see her think about/relive a training session on Okaara, an armoured figure serving as a sparring partner for her class. John sits at the feet of a master of some mystic art, listening keenly to his words. Zagreus guides an indistinct figure through a dense forest while I…

No. Wait.

The fighter turns to us. / The mystic turns to us. / The explorer turns to us.

"I see what my brother/sister found interesting about you. In the world yet not entirely part of it."

"Lord Dream." / "Morpheus"

The fighter is watching the class run through katas while talking to us. / The mystic holds the jewel up to John's eyes. / The explorer offers a flask to us.

"Why do you seek me?"

"We appear to have mislaid Melinoë in your realm, and were hopeful that you could find her and return her to us."

"Yes, her sudden presence could be… Disruptive. Do you offer anything for her safe return?"

"What do you want?"

The fighter shows Koriand'r how to dismantle and clean a gun. / The mystic passes a scroll to us. / The explorer extends a rope down to us.

"There is something that you can do for me. During the period in which I was trapped on Earth, there was a man who made an unusual connection to my realm. He used his prophetic abilities to hunt criminals and named himself after me."

"Wesley Dodds."

Dead of a stroke over a decade ago. Alan's spoken to me about him a few times.

"It has been brought to my attention that I do not always reward good service as I should. Wesley Dodds is now dead, but in his memory I would see some unfinished business attended to."

"I'd be happy to do that anyway. What's the job?"

"Wesley Dodds was unable to restore his adopted son Sanderson Hawkins to full health. Find him, and complete his work."

…

I/we wasn't/weren't sure if that happened here. "I/we already looked for him."

"You have more resources and allies to draw upon now than you did then."

"Okay, if… You're telling me that he's definitely still around… I'll get right on it."

The fighter strikes us and Koriand'r both, sending us tumbling to the floor. / The mystic exhales a pink mist. / The explorer pulls a lever and closes a stone door on us.

And I snap awake, the mist gone and my colleagues pulling themselves upright.

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
06:42 GMT -5

"Oh El? Training's not 'til, like… Nine.

"Yes, Kid Flash, and I'm-"

"Wait, what'd you call me?"

"-sorry about that, but I'm in need of your expertise."

"Okay. Ah. What's going on?"

"You remember Sandman?"

"Yeah? I mean, I don't remember-him remember him; he died when I was, like, five, but I know who you mean."

"I have received information that his sidekick Sandy isn't dead."

"I know we joke about it? But getting shot with radioactive sand usually just kills people. Or gives them cancer.. or something."

"I know. I checked the statistics myself when I first came to this planet." Selection bias: the ones you hear about are the ones who live. The ninety nine point nine percent of people who get exposed to weird chemicals or magic or technology who just die don't make the same impact. "But you know how Sandman had prophetic visions?"

"I know he said he did. Wait, he didn't get them from Apollo, did he? Because you said Apollo hates you."

"No, not Apollo. Apparently what Sandman was dreaming… Was sort of leaking out of the dreams of criminals. I just had a chat with the being in charge of dreams and he wants us to rescue Sandy as a post-mortem 'thank you' to Sandman for using the power to do good."

"Huh. Kinda… Late."

"When talking to a being who can shape dreams and ideas as an act of will, even I had the sense not to point that out."

"I guess that makes sense. What do you need my help for?"

"Have you studied the chemicals Sandman used?"

"I'm.. Kid Flash, not Kid Sandman."

"Yes, I know."

"Jay showed me his research a couple of times, but I couldn't-. Oh!"

"Yes."

"That's how he invented a perfect knockout gas that nobody's been able to replicate! Rgtrgtltmjt-."

He's accelerating. I could have my ring play it back at audible speed, but it's actually faster to-

"Okay, I'm headed to the Mountain now."

-wait for him to realise.

"Who's actually gunna be there?"

"Blue Lantern, Wonder Woman, Red Tornado and whoever else is awake."

"You not calling Jay?"

"Flash One is even older than Blue Lantern and nothing like as regenerated."

Where's Ian Karkull when you need him?

"I'm not saying 'invite him along', I'm just saying he might know something."

Fair point.

"Is he going to be less annoyed about being phoned at seven o'clock in the morning by you or by me?"

"He's probably up. He doesn't.. actually sleep all that well. I'll run there so the phone doesn't wake Joan up."

"Right-oh. See you shortly."

I close my left fist and sigh as Zagreus emerges from the thrush-corpse he used to create a personal portal to Erebos.

"How did he take it?"

"My father is concerned, but he does not blame you. Our mother… We had best do the bidding of Morpheus swiftly." His eyes narrow and he gives his head a small shake. "Assuming that he can even find her."

"Why are you worried? He might not be omniscient, but his control of his own realm is pretty good."

"And was his control 'pretty good' when those Mother Star creatures were eating entire species?"

"Yes. Well, him or one of his predecessors."

"And he did nothing to stop them?"

"Zagreus, if there was some sort of apocalypse, most humans died and civilisation broke down completely, would you go back to Greece and teach the last few survivors how to hunt?"

"You mean, even though they're Christian?" He considers for a moment. "Probably."

"How about other places?"

"Per.. haps..?"

"You have a connection to Greece. Even now, over a thousand years after they stopped worshipping your family, you still feel it. Morpheus doesn't have a connection to anyone. The Mother Stars could have eaten everything with a mind in the universe and he wouldn't have cared, unless he considered himself to have an obligation to someone."

"Hm." He considers for a moment. "Then if I am unsettled by his callousness, it would behove me to amend my own behaviour. Very well then. If disaster befalls the world, I will teach the survivors the skills of their ancestors."

"Thank you."

"And now I will attempt to hunt down our earthly quarry."

"Okay, but if you find Sandy, don't approach. We have no idea what his mental state is."

"I have stalked quarry before, you know."

"I didn't mean to criticise your skills. I just want to make sure that we're on the same page."

He nods, then turns away and takes off at a loping run.

Okay.

I transition to the Salem zeta tube, which Koriand'r appears to be fascinated by. John is in full Doctor Fate regalia, which…

"John, are you grandfathered onto the League, or do you have to get nominated separately?"

"I suppose it depends on how long they want to keep the cover-up going."

"Grandfathered, then." He shrugs. "Well, let's get going. We've got a sidekick to rescue."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
06:46 GMT -5

"Recognized, Doctor Fate, two one, Orange Lantern, B zero six, Koriand'r, A six two."

A few perturbed looks from my early-rising colleagues, but with John's clearly different outline and my lack of aggression they appear willing to let it lie. All the lifers are up and about, along with Artemis. I assume that Wallace phoned her. Diana gives me a smile while Alan mostly looks pensive.

"Is it true?" Canis strides over, eyes wide and mouth grinning with excitement. "This man was turned into a sand monster sixty years ago and he has been in a state of torment ever since?!"

"You're about to tell me that his pain must be exquisite and that you want to dedicate an artwork to it, aren't you?"

"No! A full triptych! Perhaps more!" His gaze suddenly shifts to Koriand'r. "Ah, the tamaranean. Such a shame that I did not meet you at your most interesting."

"You are Apokoliptian."

"Born and raised!"

Her face falls. "Even with everything I have experienced, I do not think that I would trade my life for yours."

"I would not trade mine for yours, either." He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Aliens."

"…sounds familiar to me, but I do not…" Angelika flies over. "Paul, I remember the Sandman of my Earth from Overman's records, but this… Sandy. I do not know him."

Alan takes a slow breath. "Do I wanna ask?"

"He survived the Conquest of America, and was a major figure in the resistance until nineteen sixty one."

"I guess not many of us who were in the All-Star Squadron made out okay."

"No, you… Did not."

He waits for a moment, but she doesn't expand on it. "You may as well tell me."

"You -and most of the more powerful members of the Squadron- died in Europe, during the early part of the invasion of Britain."

He nods. "There's a Nazi wearing my ring now, isn't there?"

"Yes… But… Like me, he was born long after the purges were complete. I do not know how… Nazi he is. Not for certain."

"I'm sure you can have a talk with him about it when-"

"Recognized, B zero three, Kid Flash, A six three, Jay Garrick."

"-you go back. Morning, Jay!"

Jay nods, and I'm slightly worried by the fact that he's wearing his costume. "Blue Lantern."

"Ah heck, Jay, everyone here either knows or doesn't care."

Wallace is carrying an age-worn journal, and immediately heads over to Garth and Tula. Mr Dodds supposedly got his education on the mystical somewhere in the Far East, but there are some fairly significant differences between Hindu and Taoist magic practices… Assuming that he didn't just run into a bunch of con artists. I don't know if it will mean much to magic users trained in the Atlantean tradition, but I suppose it can't hurt to ask.

I turn to Diana.

"Are we ready to start?"

She nods. "I believe so. Please, tell everyone what you have learned."

I connect my ring to the training area's hologram system and call up an image of Mr Dodds in full costume.

"This is Wesley Bernard Dodds, aka 'Sandman'. He was a founding member of the Justice Society and -during World War Two- a member of the All-Star Squadron."

He quit almost immediately afterwards, his need to prevent his prophetic dreams becoming reality not really meshing well with government work. They let him go because they didn't particularly want a man who specialised in non-lethal takedowns. And I do mean 'non'; there's not a single recorded instance of anyone dying as a result of his gas gun.

"And this-" I bring up an image that -should we find him- I'll endeavour to make sure never makes it onto the internet. "-was his sidekick, Sanderson Hawkins, aka Sandy-"

Linda's eyes widen, and she splutter-laughs. Artemis and Wallace look like they're only just holding their laughter in as well.

"-the Golden Boy, and that costume, A, wasn't that weird in the forties and B, have you seen Superman's costume lately?"

I bring up an image of Superman's 'with pants' costume, and the bold colour choices and external underwear make the visual link obvious. Linda then looks down at her own costume, and I spot the change in her expression as her Noriel-thoughts take over. Kon raises his eyebrows at Artemis, who half-shrugs an apology.

I dismiss the Superman hologram.

"In nineteen forty five, there was an accident while they were testing a new silicon-based weapon. At this point, Sandman reported that his sidekick had been killed. But according to information I received this morning, what actually happened was rather different. Instead of simply dying, he allegedly underwent an extreme physiological change, becoming a frenzied silicon-based monster, and Sandman spent a good deal of effort both keeping him contained and trying to find a way to turn him back into a human."

That prompts several frowns, but Alan's the one who voices their doubts.

"How exactly does this source know about this? I never-" He looks around the small circle of Justice Society members. "-heard anything about this at the time."

"I don't know for certain, but there's no obvious reason for Morpheus to lie about it. And he would certainly be in a position to know."

M'gann raises her right hand. "Who is Morpheus?"

"Lord L'Zoril." My eyes move to Canis and Noriel. "Dream of the Endless. Indirectly, the source of Sandman's prophetic visions. Unfortunately, he wasn't willing or able to tell me exactly where Sandy is, which means that we're checking as many possible locations as we can identify, and going through as many of Sandman's records as we can find."

"And as for what happens when we find him, that depends on what sort of state he's in. Hopefully, our better understanding of magic and alchemy will allow us to revert him to his human form. Failing that, just restoring his reason will be a decent first step, because a man made of sand won't be the strangest thing any of us has seen."

Wallace grimaces. "Yeah, no pressure."

Kaldur nods. "Do we know how strong Sandy is in his current form?"

"Not precisely. Immediately after his transformation he was subdued by a middle-aged man with an alchemical gas weapon, so I don't think we're talking about a world-beater here. But I don't have any more information on his peak abilities."

"Could Morpheus not provide you with more information?"

"With a being like that, I didn't want to press."

I see their expressions.

"Oh come on. I'm not that bad."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
06:58 GMT -5

The people of New York are reasonably well-accustomed to superheroic comings and goings. And while the Justice Society's old headquarters has been a museum for decades, it isn't open at this hour of the morning and so our arrival doesn't arouse much in the way of attention.

Jay puts his key in the lock and opens the outer door.

"I haven't been back here in a while."

Naturally enough, Wallace would have preferred to go with his grandmentor, but we all kind of need him to study the alchemical records we've gotten hold of so far. Diana's going to talk to Dian Dodds' grandnephew, who apparently is now the owner of what there is of the couple's stuff that wasn't donated to the museum. Including their house, which is one of the locations where they might have stashed Hawkins. Which is going to be very strange for the owner if she actually finds Sandy there.

Other members of our team are making contact with old All-Star Squadron and JSA-era contacts and allies and looking into property owned by the Dodds family, directly or indirectly. The best place to stash someone like this would be a dramatically expanded basement under an old property held by a zombie trust. I did look for things like that early on, but after the three hundredth empty abandoned shack I stopped trying to locate all buildings like that in the US. Too much time, too little reward.

Angelika looks around some of the exhibits in the entry hall with interest.

"We have something similar in my Berlin."

Jay doesn't appear to be taking news of 'his' death quite as phlegmatically as Alan did.

"Trophies, you mean? Or do you have mementos from Nazi supersoldiers?"

"Oh, both. But most of the pieces from the All-Star Squadron are recreations. Your deaths were usually violent enough that they did not leave bodies behind."

Jay walks a little faster, and I give Angelika a glare.

"Overgirl."

"Is it not something to be proud of? That they fought so hard and for so long? I.. did not think that having pride in indefatigable will was a specifically National Socialist trait. I wasn't-." She turns to look at Jay. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to offend you."

"No, I… Know. I suppose I should just be glad that I didn't get mind controlled by the Spear of Destiny."

Angelika shakes her head. "I still cannot believe that such a thing actually worked. The-. Our Adolf Hitler threw out such superstitious people after Overman arrived on Earth. He wanted nothing to do with them."

"Just because it sounds nonsensical, that doesn't mean it's not true. Case in point: all of us."

"Alright, I may as well ask: how did I die?"

"In America, in nineteen fifty. Originally, we thought that you died when Green Lantern did: during the invasion of Britain. But we did genetic tests on the body years later and confirmed that it was Jonathan Chambers and not you. There simply stop being confirmed reports of you appearing after nineteen forty seven, and after it was confirmed that it was Chambers that had died we had no idea where you were. Even after the Conquest of America it took some time before we found out what happened to you."

"So? What was it?"

"We were never certain, but… Artillery based on kryptonian technology had.. devastated the Soviet Union. Fast as you are, it would have been easy for you to have been caught in a bombardment. You were found in a hospital. You killed two of the soldiers sent to apprehend you, but you could no longer move well enough to get away."

"I guess that makes sense. A man would have to be faster than me to dodge all of the shrapnel from a heavy bombardment." He leads us through the public section of the museum towards the storage vaults. "Did anyone I know make it?"

"American supersoldiers were killed after the Conquest. When they were found. By the seventies there were none left alive."

"Of course there weren't." The vault requires another key, and code entered onto a keypad -Jay hesitates for several seconds as he tries to remember it- and a palm scan. "Did that include your version of Sandy?"

"I… Don't remember. A lot of the bright costumes blur together after a while. If he didn't have any innate powers he probably wasn't considered important enough to record in detail."

The door clanks open and we enter… What is essentially a medium sized basement warehouse with desks for the hardcore researchers. Most of the material here has been gone over dozens of times, though I suspect that the only person to do that recently is-

Alert.

-me… And Nylor Truggs, apparently. Because of course he'd come here. Not recent, and I can't detect any booby traps or anything like that. I wonder how he feels about golden age superheroes? They weren't responsible for the Earth's defeat in his future. And given that he never went after Jay for not sharing the speed formula I can only assume that he isn't directing his vengefulness in that direction.

"Wesley's stuff is over that way." He points along one of the rows and up several shelves. Angelika nods and flies upwards to get it while Jay heads over to a weapon safe. "I'll pick up a couple of his gas canisters for Kid Flash."

This is where I came to take a look at them, with Alan vouching for me with the trust that runs the place. I asked about the risk of keeping the perfect knockout gas here, and they pointed out that all of Sandman's old enemies are long dead and that frankly if it came to it they'd rather have a thief use knockout gas on people than a regular gun that they could buy in any town or city in the US.

"Overgirl, you don't remember anything about a monster made of sand? Or earth?"

I generate a construct pallet and she begins loading it with boxes.

"Yes, there were several such creatures during the Pacification of Africa. I.. think that there were a few during the Conquest of America, but I don't remember the reports well enough to be of use. Minor supersoldier fights from the forties weren't required reading. Except for their biological relatives."

Jay picks up the box containing one of Sandman's guns and several vials of compressed gas.

"Biological-?" His face twists in distaste. "I can't believe that-. That any of their kids… Okay, maybe Miya would have had her reasons-."

"No. I don't think that any of them betrayed their country. We used tissue samples -usually bone- to create clones or.. biological children. Particularly when we could not recreate augmentation formulae such as yours. Blitzen is your doppelgänger's biological daughter."

I catch the box before it hits the floor.

"God."

Jay rests his hands on the safe and takes a moment to regain his equilibrium. He closes his eyes, regulates his breathing… No, no, he's not dying just yet. Jay and his wife were never able to have children and after… Their adopted son died of pneumonia, they decided to not worry about it anymore. Barry Allen is pretty much the son he never had, and Jay and Joan have become his parent-substitutes. But learning that he effectively has a Nazi daughter…

"Overgirl, I think we've probably learned enough about your home parallel for the day."

"Ah-?" She looks at Jay, then nods. "Yes. Of.. course."

"Flash?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit of a… Surprised." He shuts the safe and turns around. "Do we have everything?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get back to base so that the rest of the team can look this stuff over."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
07:39 GMT -5

Wallace blurs around his arcane laboratory, grabbing reagents mundane and exotic and bringing them to his mystically neutral mechanical grinder. The grinder rests on a Poseidonis-made thaumatic sensor. I'm not sure whether he ever followed through completely or not but when he put this setup together Wallace said that he wanted to test every conventional chemical reaction to see if there was a measurable thaumatic shift. The plan was to see if he could identify the causal relationships which make some substances good for some things via magic mechanisms, rather than just noting them when they were stumbled upon by luck.

Just because he's learning magic, that's no reason to abandon modernity or reason.

He stops moving, leaning against the work bench as the grinder gets to work.

"I.. dunno, Oh El. I can make a potion which helps with mental stability-"

"Are you talking to Ted about that one?"

"-but-. Ah, yeah, but it's more like it helps with extreme stress, not schizophrenia or anything really serious."

"Targeting rich people with medical conditions created by their lifestyles and charging them through the nose for it: that's how to make money from the American healthcare system."

"I'm not…" He frowns thoughtfully for a moment, then shakes his head. "Yeah, probably. But if this Sandy guy went crazy after getting exposed to radioactive sand… I mean, a healing potion might do something for the radiation? But after sixty years the radioactive particles should have decayed by now. I don't know much about how potions affect shapeshifters. I've got a potion to stabilise magic, I've got one that can drain magic or heal magic injuries, but if the radioactive sand activated his metagene that won't do anything."

"It's been sixty years. No one's expecting you to come up with a solution in a few hours."

He shakes his head.

"Getting a solution might take another sixty years." He frowns faintly. "I guess…"

"What?"

"This must be what it was like for the first real scientists. Trying stuff out with no real idea why any of it was happening, or what it even made sense to look at. I mean, when Uncle Barry runs a test at his job he pretty much knows what he's looking for. The blood's either there or it's not. Chemicals either match or they don't. No one knows what radiological materials do to magic potions, because everything I've got-" He waves his right hand at some of his tomes. "-predates research on radioactive materials. Unless one of your gods-."

The grinder stops and Wallace checks the thaum detector. Nothing. He grimaces in irritation, then opens the grinder and tips the ground product into a chemical waste bin.

"Unless one of your gods feels like helping me out."

"I think we need to know more about what's happened to Sanderson Hawkins before we try that sort of thing. Because while Hecate is the Goddess of Magic, the God of Healing is Apollo."

He smiles faintly.

"So who's the Roman God of-"

"Wonder Woman to Orange Lantern."

"-Healing?"

"It's not her." I raise my left hand slightly. "Orange Lantern here, go ahead?"

"We have found where Sandy was."

"Was?"

"It's a site Wesley owned in Philadelphia. The security guards have been entranced. Lord Fate has freed them, but we can't tell how long ago it happened or where he was taken."

I actually.. checked there, but that was before I had any sort of facility for magic detection. I thought it was just a large walk-in freezer, but I only did a general scan and only stuck around long enough to confirm that there wasn't a sand monster there. I could easily have missed something.

I need to tell her. It could be important.

"It was empty as of a year and a half ago."

"How do you know that?"

Not accusatory, but certainly curious. Do I say I was suspicious of the official cause of death? Registering a death was a simpler affair back in the fifties, but none of the graveyards in the area they used to live had a Sanderson Hawkins buried there. At the time most members of the Justice Society were still involved with the All-Star Squadron, so it wasn't all that strange that they didn't attend the boy's funeral.

Does it make sense that I would have been suspicious without prior knowledge? Alan certainly never said anything about it sounding odd. Sad, yes, but not suspicious. Testing schizo tech weapons is a dangerous business. I don't want to say anything that makes it harder for us to find Mr Hawkins but at the same time I don't want to sound suspicious.

"Early on, I went on a tour of places I thought might contain Justice Society relics. I knew that people sometimes trip over other people's equipment…"

True and misleading. It should get around her ability to hear truth.

"I looked there, briefly. Just a long range scan… No Sandy or Sandman-related equipment."

"That will help narrow it down. Though it does raise more concerns about your kleptomaniacal behavior."

She sounds amused. Respond in kind.

"I consider it a job skill. Do you need me anywhere?"

"No. Remain in the Mountain and assist Kid Flash. We will call you if we need you."

"Rightoh. I assume that you'll be tracking him with magic?"

"We tried. Fate's efforts to scry his location met with failure. He thinks they used the magic of the Dreaming, but he doesn't have enough sand left after making contact with Morpheus to act as a focus."

Not too surprising. John Quinn may have the Helmet but he isn't a Lord of Order. He can't just muscle his way past defensive spells.

Okay… Who'd have a reason to abduct Hawkins? Not the government, because they'd have better options. It was only really Sandman and Dian Belmont who knew he was there… And… Would entities from the Dreaming know about it via Sandman? Odin knew about him in that Sandman comic I read… It's a place to start, I suppose.

"It might be worth asking Fate to try detecting Dreaming-based magic in general. If he's not having any luck with direct detection. There are only so many ways that anyone could have known where he was, and if someone had found him accidentally they'd probably have told someone."

"I'll pass that on. Is Kid Flash with you?"

I hold out my left hand in his direction.

"Kid Flash here. No real progress yet, but I'm still working on it. If you can get… I dunno, maybe whatever gun it was that started his transformation, that could help."

"I will try. Continue with your work as best you can."

He nods. "Sure thing."

"Wonder Woman out."

I lower my ring.

"Making some progress."

Wallace thinks for a moment.

"You know where I could get any kind of reagent related to the Dreaming?"

"Actually… Yes."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
12:48 GMT

Robert half-closes his eyes for a moment, then shakes his head.

"Yeah, I can feel it."

The manor of Fawney Rig hasn't changed since last time I was here. There's a party of Chinese tourists walking the grounds, but they're almost immediately more interested in Robert, Wallace and me than in the location. To most people it's just the base of operations of a group of mystical rip-off merchants who were briefly a thing in the seventies and eighties. I'd say something, but the absolute last thing the universe needs is anyone else trying to trap the Endless. It was hard to see on a country-by-country basis, but when I looked at the statistics worldwide his imprisonment killed thousands of people who went to sleep and never woke up… Or woke up and lost the ability to sleep.

I haven't tried looking at the same period on other planets.

Wallace frowns as I pay for our entry and we head towards the house.

"Are you serious about this? This… Endless guy was trapped here for seventy years, and there aren't any… I don't know, magical barriers here?"

"The only heavy-duty bound spell was the one keeping him imprisoned. Otherwise, it was all minor stuff. While it worked."

Robert nods. "Yeah. It feels weird, but it's a background weird."

Wallace nods uncertainly as we enter the house. "So how come no one else spotted this sand stuff?"

"The man who owned the place before the National Trust bought it didn't believe in magic. The only reason he kept the setup downstairs in one piece was so that he had something impressive-looking to show potential 'investors'. I still don't think that anyone who actually knows anything about magic has made it safe."

Wallace stops. "What?"

"Oh, no, no." Robert shakes his head. "Dad told me. They got someone called Cursitor Doom to check the place over in the eighties. Should be alright."

"But we're relying on it not being alright, right?"

I lead the way towards the basement.

"Dream sand is only dangerous in high concentrations. And even then, actual dream manifestations require long term exposure." I take a warded gas mask out of subspace and offer it to him. "It shouldn't be a problem anyway, but just in case…"

He takes it from me and looks at it for a moment.

"Kid Sandman, here we come."

He puts it on over his face, fiddling with it in a vain attempt to make it comfortable. I have no idea how Wesley Dodds managed for so many years.

"So how are we finding this stuff?"

"I scanned the sand that Fate had." I lead the way down the stairs into the basement. "And while my ring couldn't make sense of the exotic aspect, it gave me a pretty clear reading on the 'sand' part. So all I've got to do is scan for that sand, and we should have it."

Robert frowns. "I thought they took his stuff off him as soon as he got here."

"Yes, but it was in the building for years. If he spilled some inside the circle, or they spilled some in the house somewhere, I should be able to find it."

"Unless they were having some building work done."

"Sand isn't just sand. I can distinguish between the molecular structure of that sand and the stuff that's used in the local buildings."

I step out into the basement and walk a little way around the room, letting the others come in. Robert looks fascinated, though I'm not sure how much of that is due to the history of the place and how much to whatever his arcane senses are telling him. Wallace-.

"Oou really couldn't put a throat mike in this thing?"

"It would be an extra point of weakness and complexity. Ring, find me some sand."

Orange light washes outward, covering the inner surfaces of the room. And like a disclosing tablet, colour pools in particular areas of the room. Nooks and crannies in the stone floor, the walls, the tapestries and the stairs. Not a lot really, but worth noting.

I make a pulling gesture with my left hand and it comes, flying through the air and coming to rest in a small construct box. No, not a lot, but perhaps we can do something with it.

"Stuff dreams are made of." Robert frowns. "What happened to the woman who was using it?"

"She starved to death." I shrug. "Sort of. She only lasted as long as she did because she spent so much time in the Dreaming, but her body was a mess when she finally died."

One last strobe around reveals nothing, and I turn to leave.

"And what happened to her house?"

"Her father's brother got it in his will, and he sold it. The family who moved in ended up having bizarre waking dreams, galloping nightmares, believing they were other people, all sorts of weird stuff. There was a nasty legal battle over the sale which ended with the bank repossessing it. They couldn't sell it, a few people tried squatting there which resulted in it being burned down. It's a grass field, now. There's no way we're getting any sand from there."

I fly back up the stairs, tiny quantities of dream sand making themselves known as I go. I… Vaguely remember Morpheus dosing a few people with sand during his escape, but after this long I doubt that I'll get more than a few grains anywhere which isn't somewhere where he did that. Probably just the bedroom of the former owner, Alex Burgess.

"…supposed to help us find him?"

Robert and Wallace follow me back up, Wallace shaking his head.

"Fate can use it as a focus for a spell to detect other people using dream magic. It's not something a lot of magicians use, so it should show us where to look. I wanna see if I can use it alchemically. If this stuff can make anything I can imagine real, I might be able to make a potion to fix Sandy."

"You think so?"

"This… Something like this needs a real expert. But there aren't any. There's some people who use scientific equipment to do alchemy, but there's no one who's actually studied it scientifically. So it's not like when Tempest and Aquagirl do a whole lot of math to work out how their spells should go; this is basically… Guessing."

He grimaces under his mask.

"Hey, Oh El: Sandy didn't ever get the same kinda dreams that Sandman did, did he?"

"Not as far as I know."

Based on sources that I've found here and based on the handful of Justice Society of America comics I read with him in them. Mostly what I remember of that is him complaining about how libidinous everyone had become since the forties and then getting into a fight with Hawkman over Hawkgirl.

"No, that would be too easy."

We continue through the house until we get to the bedroom. They've redecorated it to look how it did during the heyday of The Order of Ancient Mysteries, but… Yes, a decent amount of sand lurks under the carpet. Probably a good job that no one tried sleeping here since Alex died.

I hold up the small construct box with even less sand than John had. And I'm not completely sure that it is all dream sand.

"I think this is all we're getting. Time to head back."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
07:59 GMT -5

The magic detector lights up like a Christmas tree. A small and flat Christmas tree.

Wallace's eyes widen as he picks up the flask and swirls it around, watching the tiny sparkles within.

"I.. think it's a universal catalyst. It literally makes everything… More. And.. if the.. Dreaming is the source of magic, that makes a lot of sense." He turns to me. "How much you got left?"

I hold up the construct box, and its maybe three pinches of dream sand.

Wallace exhales disappointedly.

"You don't think that Morpheus guy would sell me more of it, do you?"

"He might. But he wouldn't want just money in return."

"Okay, what would he want?"

"Shakespeare gave him a play in exchange for making sure that his plays lived on after him. Which explains why people still study them here, though I've got no idea why they do it back on Earth Prime."

He frowns faintly. "I wanted to ask: how come your Earth gets to be Earth Prime?"

"You'd have to ask President Lex Luthor on Earth negative fourteen. And… If you do, it's probably best not to mention me."

He begins preparing the next mixture.

"You didn't get anything on 'why'?"

"I only saw his early notes, but to him my home Earth looked like it didn't quite fit in with the system the others established. It looks like he referred to it as 'prime' in a couple of places because he thought that it might be the 'original' parallel from which others divided, but he didn't really do any work on it."

And I think someone would have noticed a man dressed like an owl fighting a man dressed like a bat next to a giant bomb.

"So why not 'Earth One'?"

"Because he used negative numbers for some of them, so he'd have 'one', the defining article, and 'negative one', which was different but didn't mirror it."

"So… Is it?"

"How would I know? He stopped focusing on it when he couldn't open a portal to it. It was really just a guess about a parallel that didn't fit, anyway." I smile. "Did you know that the Amazons don't consider 'one' to be a number?"

"What?"

"It's not all that much stranger than modern mathematicians not considering 'one' to be a prime number because it doesn't fit a pattern the others do."

"Ah, yeah it-"

A golden ankh appears in the air close to us.

"-is."

John steps through and holds his right hand out towards my sand box. "Mind if I take that?"

I fabricate a normal box in place of my construct and pass it to him. "Does Wonder Woman want the rest of us to come along?"

"She doesn't want to crowd him by bringing everyone. Do you think your empathic manipulation will work?"

"It.. should." I shrug. "With a novel life form I can never be completely sure."

He nods. "You're in. Kid Flash, will your potion work?"

"It's a super-wellness potion. It should help with just about anything, but like Oh El says…"

"Welcome to magic, kid."

"That's not much of an excuse. I'm sure I'll get there; I'm just not there yet."

"I like your optimism, Kid. Let's get going before Wonder Woman starts to think we got lost."

He steps back through, and… Huh. I haven't been through one of these before. Wallace walks through just ahead of me, and…

I hesitate. I could just teleport mys-.

No. No. Just do it. I step through and-

-u-ugh-

-out.. again. John's head whips around to stare at me as the ankh wobbles and then collapses.

"Maybe you should-" / "Maybe I should-" / "-teleport yourself-" / "-teleport myself-" / "-next time." / "-in future."

I'm really not orderly.

John waves his hands, causing the dirt on the… Car park we emerged onto to form the runic symbols he needs to run this ward-bypassing trace spell. Wallace steps closer to me.

"You knew Morpheus had been there for a while, right?

"Yes."

"So why didn't we go there right away? Like, last year or something?"

"You remember what happened to Rachel Mathers?" He hesitates, then nods. "Dealing with the Dreaming is dangerous, and the place is poorly understood. It's a case of 'if there's another option, do that first'."

"…and a pinch of the good stuff-"

John tosses a tiny amount of sand into the air.

"-to make it real."

A door, like a slightly more cartoonish version of the little card doors that come with the old Heroquest game, appears in front of him.

"Huh."

Diana steps up to it. "This will take us to him?"

"I'm not sure. Something odd is going on. I was just expecting directions. But…" He shrugs. "Dream magic isn't my focus. This doesn't necessarily mean that it's a trap. This could be what's supposed to happen."

"Do you know what we will find?"

"It's on Earth, and wherever it is acts a bit like the Dreaming. A demigoddess like you should be fine, I'll be fine with this helmet on and Orange Lantern will be fine. Everyone else should stay back for now."

"Very well." Diana takes hold of the door's ring-shaped handle. "Follow me."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April
08:04 GMT -5

She pulls open the door.

"Sandy? It's Diana."

Because even if he is a sand monster, I'm sure that she stuck in his adolescent mind even if nothing else has.

The.. corridor on the far side is broad, with lines of plinths on either side. Atop each plinth is an object. Some are simple and unremarkable: a three-eyed teddy bear, an unusually large wrench resting atop a thick metal cog and a chocolate cake topped with cherries and a single candle. Others are strange: a worm with no beginning or end, a ray of light with no source and a mobile pile of wood shavings constantly throwing itself against the side of its glass case.

Diana's already strode halfway down the corridor. John steps through the door after her, taking a moment to wave an ankh at the exhibits. He twists his ankh as he passes the shavings, grasping the upright piece and slamming the loop into the case and shattering it. The shavings leap free and flow across the floor, rustling around John and Diana and turning left as they reach the end of the corridor.

John nods. "Kid Flash, I think it's safe enough. Someone's building a temple to their own ego."

I go through next, Wallace just behind me. John's eyes narrow inside his helmet as the door tries to close on us and raises his hands towards it, bringing it to an immediate halt with a golden ankh embossed on the wood.

Diana glances back. "Doctor Fate, do we need to follow that?"

"No, I just don't like seeing it in prison." He turns his attention to me. "Where do you think we should go?"

"This is a dream we have no stake in. We end it." I point to the closest wall. "We smash through there until we hit something important."

He snorts with amusement. "That might work, but there's an easier way."

He brings his hands together in front of him, generates a large ankh and stabs the upright into the floor. Golden light flows away from the point of impact, glowing through the tiny gaps in the brickwork as it spreads throughout the structure.

"Why go to them, when we can bring them to-"

The wall I pointed at explodes! A muscular green-skinned humanoid lunges out of the hole and swings its right fist at John!

"-us?"

Diana's there, blocking the attack with her bracers! The creature hesitates, frowning in apparent surprise that she could stop him. Super strength, probably, and not familiar with Wonder Woman. She takes advantage of the opening to slam her right fist into.. his? Jaw, sending him staggering back.

"Explain yourself, creature! Why have you taken Sandy!?"

"I don't answer to you, Olympian!" He grabs the teddy bear from the plinth and swings it at her, the creature swelling to a huge size and enveloping her. "I don't answer to anyone any more!"

The bear comes to life, bearing down on Diana with soft fur and padding! She can't just smash it aside as it can just soak up her strikes!

"Dreamkin." John raises his arms at it but doesn't hit it yet. "You shouldn't be up and about by yourself."

"I can if I can."

Wallace crouches slightly to prepare to throw himself into the fray but I shake my head and point to the hole. He nods, then dashes through with me flying quickly after him.

On the other side there's a.. black abyss, with only a narrow stretch of floor between exit and entry point. We both pass through it in a moment, coming out into… A richly-appointed throne room. There are two thrones on a dais, one intended for a large humanoid while the other is a sort of.. high chair. It's occupied by a… Squig with arms? The other points of interest in the room are two large glass cases, one occupied by a writhing pile of sand and the other occupied by… A Star Hunter with grey skin matching the tone of Melinoë's skin.

"How'd you get in-?"

A mage slayer round punches through each glass enclosure, sand spilling out at once. The starfish settles for glaring monoptically at me.

"Hey, cut that out!"

"Ah." Wallace slows to a stop and the sand begins piling up. "Sandy, right? Sanderson Hawkins? We haven't met, but-."

The sand clenches, shrinking down slightly as it takes humanoid shape. No, not 'humanoid'. Human, a slightly older copy of Sandy, outline of his dodgy costume and all. Rendered in sand of course; no colour other than browney-yellow. Still, that suggests purpose which means that he isn't mindless.

"Flash."

"Kid Flash, but, yeah. Ah, hi?"

"EXCUSE ME!" The squig rises up on its weirdly thin legs and waves a whistle in its right hand. "No one breaks into my house and BREAKS MY PROPERTY!"

He moves the whistle to his lips and I tear it from his hand with a construct.

He blows his fingers, then realises that something isn't right.

"Huh?"

"Sandy, who is this?"

"Thut-." His throat shifts as he tries to regain the ability to enunciate. "That is Glob. It's some sort of dream… Creature."

"Good show. Brand."

"What-?"

The filament tags him in the forehead, and… I feel little to no resistance as I take control and… Change his operating desire from 'create hoard from the dreams of everyone he can reach' to 'release everything he's taken, then report to Morpheus'.

"Ah, hey, I made this potion." Wallace holds it out to Sandy. "I'm.. not sure what's going on, but it should help with the 'sand monster' thing."

Sandy grimaces.

"I had to learn how to control a body made of sand. I was never a monster."

"Ah." Wallace's eyes widen slightly for a moment. "Okay. I don't.. really know.. what to say-."

A three-eyed teddy head flies through the gap in the wall and hits Melinoë's container.

"If he doesn't need it, could you give it to her?" I nod at the starfish. "She appears to be stuck."

The eye narrows as Diana drags the green fellow through the hole, bound in her lasso.

"Sandy." She lands, looking him over. "You're alive."

"W-wonder Woman?" He shakes his head. "How.. long was I in..?"

Lasso wrapped around her left forearm she walks forward and embraces him. He doesn't hug her back, instead remaining in the exact posture he occupied before she touched him.

"Ah." Wallace stands in front of Star Melinoë. "Do you have a mouth..?"

She turns-. And she's got the small Star Conqueror's toothy mouth on her reverse surface. Wallace cautiously leans into her enclosure and pours his potion into it, her teeth clacking together in response. A healing potion shouldn't do much to an Olympian, but combined with a little dream dust…

Her outer surface undulates for a moment and then snaps back into the form I know.

Okay, Sandy and Melinoë rescued, two Dreamkin in temporary custody before we hand them over to Morpheus. I think this mission is complete, though Sandy will need a lot of help in the next few months and I want to talk to Melinoë about what just happened.

Then the squig claps its hands and the room around us evaporates.

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th April
17:12 GMT -6

I take a sip of water from the glass on the coffee table next to me, and then sit back slightly in my chair.

"So, mission over? No one injured, no one.. even arrested, objective accomplished?" I shake my head. "No. And if any of you still think that a vigilante's job is that simple, then you need to go back and do the workshops again."

There's a small amount of laughter from the crowd at this convention of would-be superheroes the Alliance of the Just put together. The costumes range from professional to pyjama, the armaments ridiculous to disturbing and the attitudes serious to role playing. Mr Edge has done a… Well, I don't really have anything to compare it to. This is the biggest gathering of superheroes… And, alright, 'superheroes', that I'm aware of ever happening, and he appears to be trying to get them to moderate their ambitions. They're not exactly shy about the still-high death rate for novice vigilantes, but… It can't be all doom and gloom.

Which is why I'm here.

"No. Nothing ever ends. Sandy spent sixty years either alchemically drugged and frozen by his mentor who was under the mistaken belief that he was a rabid monster or locked in a glass case by dream creatures. None of his surviving relatives have ever met him and his friends are either old or dead."

Which, naturally, means that we got a new team mate, because where else was he going to go?

"Which means that between his well intentioned contemporaries and the handful of aged or unageing superheroes he actually recognises, we've got to bring him up to speed on everything he missed and help him work out what he wants to do with his life. And that's going to be a long term ongoing thing. But the more immediate concern was the local police. Because it turns out that the warehouse the Dreamkin had converted was in Arkansas, and the police there didn't want to simply deport them back to the Dreaming."

"Now, perhaps you're wondering why the two Justice League members we had on hand didn't simply use their charter authority to resolve the situation as they saw fit? The answer to that is basically the same as the one that Mister America and Ms Longacre have been trying to beat into your heads since the start: good relations with police organisations are very helpful. And while it's true the League's charter means that police are in theory obliged to share information, it's amazing what gets misplaced or forgotten if people think you're being high-handed."

"Perhaps more importantly, countries don't like foreigners interfering in their internal affairs. If the Justice League throws its weight around outside of an emergency it's not just the local police who complain, it's heads of state. And… What happened was kind of my fault. You may remember that last year I was one of the primary campaigners behind a law called the Citizenship Recognition Act. And while I mostly intended it to apply to artificial intelligences and aliens… I got a law that also applies to -for example- demons. I.. suppose it's nice that demons get due process as well, but it can be rather inconvenient. In this case, where we'd rather have sent the Dreamkin back to the Dreaming… The police were right to want to arrest them."

"And -respect to them- the Arkansas State Police do actually have magic suppression manacles. And got them to us in under two hours, whereupon they were not happy for me to tell them that they'd wasted their effort because they weren't designed to work on Dreamkin. And this is where we run into another problem highly qualified vigilantes have: you know more than the people who officially have power. Because it turns out that after Swamp Thing occupied Gotham City the Arkansas state legislature redrafted their laws concerning hostile magic users. Unfortunately, they did so without any real understanding of what they were doing or any direct input from people who did. As far as the police knew, putting the manacles on meant that there wasn't a problem any more, and the fact that I was one of the people who developed them and knew exactly what they could and couldn't do didn't carry as much weight as their procedural manual."

"So their Chief of Police spent about half an hour arguing with me and.. then Icon, about how to handle the situation, until eventually the state governor got involved and had to write the Dreamkin a pardon for any and all crimes on the condition they leave the country immediately. Which was technically legal and produced the result we wanted. But is probably not an option that's going to be available to you in the field."

"A good working relationship with authorities is the difference between a successful prosecution and a case collapsing. Or you getting arrested yourself. It's the difference between people listening to you when you say you know better and them ignoring you and people being hurt or killed as a result. But I digress. Doctor Fate stayed behind to make sure that the site was safe, Wonder Woman and the other former members of the Justice Society took possession of Sandy and I escorted Melinoë back to Erebos where Queen Persephone gave me the third degree about my relationship with her daughter."

"The rest of the day was spent explaining the American criminal justice system to Princess Koriand'r, including a tour of a selection of courts and prisons."

I lean forwards.

"And without wishing to sound too conceited, none of what you're going to be doing will be anything like any of that. What you'll mostly be doing is patrolling around your neighbourhood, because knowing that crime will be fought is a good way to make committing crimes unappealing. The next most common thing will be petty thefts and common assaults where working out which belligerent party was the instigator will be difficult or impossible. If you're fortunate you may use your first aid skills to treat the injured and they live because of the help you gave them. And if you're really unlucky you'll see murder victims with horribly injured bodies. I've done that, and police do it, and medics do it, so I'm afraid that if you do stay the course it's more a matter of 'when' than 'if'."

"Being a paramilitary vigilante is not romantic or fun. I'm part of a group that's about as skilled, experienced and knowledgeable as superheroes get and we had to work out how to handle that as we went along. Being hopelessly out of your depth when lives are on the line is not a good position to be in. But not only are you unlikely to be in the sort of position I was in yesterday, your friends and family? The people you got into superheroism to help? They're unlikely to be in danger as a result of that sort of thing. Someone shot by a criminal is something like ten thousand times more likely to be shot with a conventional firearm than a ray gun. A robbery from your neighbourhood bric-a-brac shop is more likely to be a drug addict looking for something they can fence than a tomb robber searching for a magic amulet. And robbery? That is something you can learn to deal with that will have a measurable positive effect on your local community."

"So, yeah, that's what I've been doing this week." The original questioner has long since sat down, but I make momentary eye contact and give him a nod. Looks like the male/female ratio hasn't changed much. "Next question?" A few hands go up and I pick one at random. "Lady in the pink costume?"

She stands up as a boom microphone makes its way over to her.

"So, like, what are you doing next week?"

"Whatever fate throws at me. But if you mean scheduled activities…"

17th April
18:32 GMT -5

There's a thud and then my power armour spins as Artemis kicks off my cuirass, sending me hurtling across the desert. I just about see her making a sand-cushioned controlled landing of her own before I bounce off a dune like a skipping stone and embed myself in the next one along in a shower of sand, sandstone and stone.

Super strength sparring. Super muscle versus powered muscle.

I draw my arms back and punch, the ground exploding beneath me and I briefly leave the ground. Over to my left I catch sight of Beryl using her mini-mech's kinetic cannons to teach Kon the value of friction while a good distance behind me Richard tries to work out where William's hiding before he manages another ambush.

Artemis tried to hit me mid-jump again, but this time I grab her leg and twist, throwing her off course. I let go before she can grapple me and watch as she makes a hole next to mine as I land.

And then I charge.

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th April 2011
08:48

I regard the 'were-chipmunk' as it regards me. A curious creature; it puts me in mind of something that might have existed in a Beatrix Potter book as reinterpreted by Tim Burton. It's got the cute little jacket and scarf combined with eyes that no natural creature should have and razor sharp teeth just a little too large to hide behind its gums.

"I have an appointment with King Jamie. If you would be so good as to escort me?"

The creature flicks its strangely lion-like tail as it contemplates me.

"I wonder if you're a farmer?"

"Not by preference, and I wasn't much good at it."

"You can understand me?" I n-. "You can understand me!"

"I can understand any form of spoken or written communication. Now-?"

It lunges for my right leg and attempts to scramble up, but my environmental shield allows it no purchase. Instead it slips down, falling over and then rolling back onto its hind paws.

"I don't think that King Jamie would appreciate me being late."

"I was only made with short legs-. Oh! You should have seen how quickly some of the others used to run and leap!"

Having watched every visual record of their activity, I know it perfectly well. Home videos and strike team recordings that leaked out. Even security camera records from the businesses inside Ellisburg. The children of 'Nilbog' didn't do all that much damage to the infrastructure of the town, and quite a lot was recoverable. He loved his children. He loved making children. He didn't care a whit for his fellow humans, and I've seen it argued each way whether that was because of his power or just how he was anyway.

"Allow me."

I create a construct plane, designed to look like one of the comically misshapen ones that you used to be able to pay 50p to ride at the front of a supermarket. The.. creature stares at it in absolute admiration for a second before leaping and landing head first in the seat. The propeller starts up as it twists into a sitting position, and then it grabs the steering column.

It has a few false starts, but it still takes less than a minute before it understands the control system well enough to fly us through the abandoned fields surrounding the town proper. I think that King Jamie was attempting some sort of 'mystic forest' thing here, but his talents don't actually make trees grow any faster. Or perhaps the problem is a lack of personal discipline? I know that further into town there's an area where he appeared to be attempting to recreate the yellow brick road of Wizard of Oz fame. Sadly for his Scarecrow simulacrum he has no more knowledge of pottery than he does of arboriculture.

I see a few of the Goblin King's children as I fly after-.

"You haven't told me your name."

"Oh no, sir. Giving one's name to the fae is a terrible idea, they can make you do all sorts of things."

"You do understand that I'm not a fae creature, yes?"

"You must be, sir? Or else why would you be here?"

"As a foreign diplomat attempting to negotiate."

The creature turns its head, apparently disappointed by my reply. Or perhaps that I replied to what was supposed to be a rhetorical Cheshire Cat paraphrasing?

I reach down to my equipment harness and pull out an iron horse shoe. That seems to mollify it.

"My name is Hunca Munca, yes it is! What is yours?"

"I might not be a fae creature, but you definitely are."

It grins.

As we approach the town hall it.. veers off, turning its toy plane down another road and towards… A playing ground which is being fully enjoyed by the locals. Creatures like my guide, midget animals who went for cute and fell far short. Others look like miniature demons, gremlins and gargoyles. I think perhaps that I'm too familiar with goblins from Warhammer to recognise that mythological goblins had far more varied appearances.

And the man I'm here to see, dressed like a cross between a court jester and Slenderman. His people have built him a platform atop the climbing frame, and a couple of heavy wooden chairs have been stuck together with the adjoining arm rests removed to create something that can serve as his throne. His eyes are sufficiently altered that I can't tell where he's looking.

Hunca Munca flies up to the top of the climbing frame and leaps out of the plane, landing at its creator's feet and prostrating itself.

"Oh mighty King Nilbog! I come, with the ambassador!"

…

I've only just realised that his name is 'goblin' backwards.

I dismiss the construct, land at the base of his climbing frame and bow.

"Your majesty. I thank you for receiving me."

"Mm. And what do I call you? And who do you work for?"

I straighten up. "My title is Lord Protector. And I work for myself."

"Are you a king?"

"No."

"It's a very grand-sounding title, for a man who says that he isn't a king."

"There was some suggestion that after I reunified Thundera I might take the title, but I decided against it. It is my opinion that once a community reaches a certain size, it isn't wise to have every decision be made by a single individual. I guard the state. I do not control it."

His face… Sort of squishes.

"You think I'm a tyrant, do you? You dare accuse me of keeping my children as slaves?!"

"Not at all, your majesty. The affection you feel for them is obvious. It is simply that the political community I guard will outlive me, while your children are dependent on you and your abilities. Were I to claim the title of king I would be lying, whereas you are simply describing your situation accurately."

"Hmm." He settles down slightly. "What do you want, Ambassador Lord Protector? What boon do you ask of me?"

"I wish to trade. My people have recently undergone a revolution in farming technology. Not only do we have a surplus of farming equipment to exchange, we also have a surplus of farm animals. I understand that you have consumed all of the animals within your territory for resources."

I don't have Orange Prime's empathy, but I can hardly miss his reaction to that.

"And as a personal gift…"

I take a pile of books on farming techniques out of subspace and… Ah. There isn't really anywhere to put-.

A moleman ambles up and holds out his large fore claws. I hand them to him.

"This should enable some of your children to set up the farms you will need to ensure the long-term viability of your s-. Kingdom."

He shifts in his seat. Oh yes, the reports made it clear that his people skills weren't very good but even he knows that he shouldn't seem too eager.

"And what do you want in return?"

"When I first came to Thundera, its people were starving. For now, it is enough to know that your people won't be. But if you will agree to meet me again in a year, perhaps we could discuss a longer term agreement?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Otherworld

I have no idea
Where I am

Elves.

Elves. Okay.

Because… Sure. Why wouldn't there be elves?

The black and purple combined with pierced heart, skull and thorny vine iconography makes me think 'Warhammer Dark Elf', but really those are generic enough that it's not really proof.

And I need to keep myself calm and focused on the outcome that I want because the one thing the brief fight I just had taught me is that this ring doesn't like me being afraid. Fear gets me shot with repeating crossbow bolts and I don't want that again.

On the deck of the ship just in front of me the crew kneel bound and gagged by glowing orange chains. If this is the Warhammer world, these would be corsairs, and… The cloaks do rather.. suggest…

Once I've dealt with this, I'll… Go and check.

I half-turn, taking in the fishing village they were in the process of raiding. A few wooden boats pulled up onto the shore. Wattle and daub houses with thatch roofs. A couple of the houses have visible timber frames, but this clearly isn't wealthy enough or close enough to a good quarry for stone buildings. Not sure why there aren't clay bricks…

The people here were scarpering as I arrived, the fastest making it to the tree line while the slowest were hit with bolts from the probably-corsairs. The bolts haven't actually pierced them anything like as deeply as I thought they would, and since the aim was to take slaves… Some sort of drugged tip? Since this is my first day as a… A Lantern, I decided not to take a chance on wound repair and left the bolts where they were after moving the wounded into one of the houses.

No one has reappeared since I defeated the attackers. Which makes sense; they probably think I'm a daemon.

But what happens next? This place is clearly too small to have a military presence. It certainly doesn't have a prison. Don't… The Bretonnians have a Knight of the Realm in every village or something? So this probably isn't Bretonnia, but those are definitely pale-skinned humans lying on the shore. So… What? Empire? Border Princes?

…

Did they..? Have a coast?

Oh, it.. doesn't matter.

Right. The pirates. Mixed sex crew, but with the males outnumbering the females. The man with the fancy armour is probably the captain, and the woman in the leather bikini who threw what I suspect was a doombolt at me is a sorceress. Given that they're a) pirates and b) completely evil, I should… Probably just kill them.

…

I'm an ADMINISTRATIVE ASSISTANT! Last time I got in a fight with someone it lasted about ten seconds and we went our separate ways! And I don't even remember the time before that!

Okay. I need to.. find out what's going on.

Deep breath.

I remove the gag from the captain. He doesn't immediately respond, simply staring at me. I drift a little closer and a couple of my prisoners use the opportunity to test their bonds oh no you don't.

"Are you lost, little daemon?"

"Yes. Dreadfully." I float into a sitting position. I'm… Going to have to kill them. That's-. I mean, I know the physical act of killing isn't particularly complicated or difficult, but…

Ring, what sort of person am I looking at?

The ring shows me-. Augh. His satisfaction at lashing slaves, breaking their will and watching them suffer and die by inches. I turn my head a little and see that the rest aren't much different. The only real difference is that some don't have his patience and want to hurt and kill the thing right in front of them immediately.

I think I can bear killing these people.

"So I've got a deal for you."

His face remains impassive. "State it."

"I'm afraid that I'm rather against piracy and slavery."

"That is the advantage of being in a position of power; you may do as you like to those weaker."

I.. nod. "You're not wrong. Still, I'll give you a choice between three options. The first is: I kill you. I will endeavour to make it as swift and painless as possible. The second is: I hand you over to whoever represents the local judicial system. I imagine that will most likely result in your death in a way that is less swift and painless, but the option is there if you wish to die in accordance with local law. The third option is: I rewrite your personality with the orange light so that you're not… Evil."

His eyebrows go up very slightly, then his eyes dart for an instant to the sorceress.

I suppose it makes sense that this would be outside of his wheelhouse. I remove her muzzle.

"Be warned, sorceress, that if you attempt to use magic upon me I will take that as you choosing option one."

She looks at me with a sort of hungry fascination. "A daemon of Malal? I did not think that they existed."

"Yes, nice attempt at a divide by zero there. Malal is Chaos-as-contradiction, not stupid."

"I can feel nothing of the winds of magic from him, but his power is evident. Make your decision, captain: purity or survival. I've made mine."

"If it helps…" I look at the rest of the crew. "If one of you who is completely sure that they'll be choosing a clean death would kindly attempt to raise their right arm?"

There's a moment of hesitation as those who were testing their bonds freeze, then one jerks.

"Well volunteered." I remove his muzzle. "Please confirm your decision audibly."

"I would sooner die than be tainted by a human's magic. Or that of a slave to the Chaos Gods." He turns his head as much as his bonds allow to sneer at his fellows. "Show some pride and do not abase yourself before this thing."

I nod. "Those were good last words." I raise my left hand and want him dead, every part of his body crumbling and burning until nothing's left for being that obscenely vile.

An orange bolt hits him, and he dissolves into grey dust and blows away.

"That's as quick and as painless as I can make it. Now, I would like a volunteer to demonstrate the mind control option."

The captain continues to stare at me. "You will make us empty vessels?"

"No. I'll… Reach into your minds and… Change how you value things. Your desire to make things suffer will decrease, your desire to dominate will be suppressed… You won't want to be as evil. In their place, you will gain more pro-social desires. In case you were planning on escaping that way, I won't be maintaining the effect. Once it's in place, it's done. Even if I died, it would remain in effect."

The sorceress smiles.

"So there would be nothing to stop us carrying on exactly as we are?"

"You… Won't want to, but in theory, no."

"Then my choice is simple. Do your best, daemon."

I lift her up to float just in front of me, reaching into her… Revolting desires. No, remove that positive association with ritual murder. Add in one for… Aiding someone… Never? Okay, just… Create one. And-.

"Halt, vile daemon!"

I turn-. Oh. A knight. With a faintly glowing two-handed sword and faintly glowing eyes.

"Stand and face me!"

That could be bad.

 

[Mr Zoat]

I know roughly where I am
But I have no idea when I am

The knight's surcoat is quartered red and blue, which probably means something to someone who knows about heraldry. His shield has a red background with a golden… Snake? Embossed on it. I can't see any sort of retinue which suggests 'Bretonnia' rather than 'The Empire'… I think? I would expect a knight to at least have a small retinue. I could ask the ring what language he's speaking, but without a record to compare it to it wouldn't mean all that much.

I take the sorceress's delight in petty cruelties and replace it with one for petty kindnesses.

Why isn't he advancing? Is it because I'm not threatening one of the locals? Or-. Ah. There's no obvious way for him to actually get to the boat. He could probably wade to the boat in full plate if he wanted, but the tide is turning and his footing would be uncertain. Plus he'd be completely open to any crossbow bolts fired by the crew. He could grab one of the small fishing boats, but that would involve even more difficulty. I doubt that he knows how to use one.

"Might I ask your name, sir knight?"

"I am Mallobaude du Carcassonne, Questing Knight sworn to the Lady!"

That clears that up. I'm in Bret-. No… Wait.

"I realise that you are obliged to follow the Lady's signs wherever the quest takes you, but are we actually in Bretonnia?"

"Are you a fool as well as a Hellspawn?"

"More ignorant than foolish, though I'm sure I have my moments. And if I could beg you for the date?"

"The year is fifteen thirty one, it is the thirteenth day of the month of Vendémiaire, we are in the Duchy of Mousillon and I will have your head!"

"Thank you! Though I'm not clear why you want my head?"

"You are a daemon!"

"No I'm not." I point to the elves-. I reinforce the bonds which were starting to fade a little. "They just assumed I was because it was the only point of reference they had."

"Come over here and say that!"

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

The sorceress shakes her head as she tries to make sense of her own partially-rewritten motivations. I can see that her desires are not meshing at all, and that's probably making her profoundly conflicted.

"If you are not a daemon, then what are you?"

"Oh, just some random mon-keigh-"

The captain isn't quite able to prevent himself from letting out an exhalation of shocked amusement.

"-with a potent artefact."

"A mon-keigh!" Seeing that I've already noticed he doesn't bother concealing his delight at the idea. "At least you know your place!"

"A what?"

Right, the translation isn't mutual. "Mon-keigh. It's an elven word meaning 'lesser intelligent species'. Basically anything that isn't an Old One, a slann or an elf."

"You are a man."

"Yes. I spotted this reaver ship as it came in and decided to stop it."

The knight's eyes dim a little. "Very well. Bring the picaroon here, that I may slay them as the Lady commands."

"You are.. lawfully able to sentence and execute criminals?"

"Verily."

"Okay, slight problem there. I've already offered them parole."

"You have no authority to do so!"

"I didn't think there was any authority in the area! Look, I offered them a choice between death at my hand, death at-" I gesture to him with my right arm. "-your hand, as it turns out, and my altering their minds in order to make them less evil."

"It matters little whose hand wields the blade, but how can their misdeeds and crimes be paid for if not with their deaths?!"

"Is that an actual question, or are you stating that they can't be?"

He hefts his sword in the half-handing hold.

"I will slay you for your impudence, cur!"

"That seems unlikely. Ah, one moment." I turn back to the corsairs. "Did anyone actually want to be handed over to the local authorities?"

No one moves.

"Just to be clear, you're choosing between annihilation at my hand and…" I look at the sorceress, then turn back to Mallobaude. "Could you possibly wait until I've finished one as an example?"

"One what?!"

"The way I see it, killing a slaver doesn't free those they abducted or resurrect those they slew. In the same way that if you put a debtor in prison they're never going to be able to earn enough money to pay off their debt. A better approach would be one in which they were able to pay off their debt to society through productive work."

"You would commute their death sentence to one of labour!?"

"I would effectively be-. Look. Could you wait until after I've finished? Nothing I'm doing would make it impossible for you to kill them afterwards, and you'll be able to get a better idea of the result of what I'm doing."

"You invade the lands of Bretonnia, steal my rightful quarry and ask that I await your pleasure?! Nay, churl, you shall satisfy me now!"

He thrusts the point of his sword into the ground.

"I challenge you to single combat!"

The sword glows and whow. It's like.. I'm in a tunnel, the edge distorting the rest of the universe like a… Concave lens. I lose contact with my constructs immediately, and… No, can't get through.

"You shall not escape me now!"

And the 'back' of the tunnel is being pulled in, forcing me to come closer to him.

"True, but the corsairs almost certainly will." I focus, and orange plate armour appears around me. "Because you have no way to catch them."

"It matters not! The Lady is with me! I shall never back down! I shall never falter in my devotion!"

"Okay, no." I stop being pushed towards him when I'm about five metres away, and he draws his sword from the ground and takes a stance. "Is there any way I could persuade you into not doing this?"

"Insult has been given and insult will be answered! Draw your weapon!"

I land and send bands of orange light into the ground. They surround a column under the ground just in front of him and send it into subspace, a construct arch being the only thing supporting the topsoil. And then I hold out my right hand and create sword and shield constructs.

"Alright. If you insist. Come at me, Sir Mallobaude."

Eyes fixed on mine he advances, and then disappears straight down. I take the excavated soil out of subspace and pour it into the hole, burying him up to his neck in loose soil.

"Craven coward!"

"It's hardly my fault that you didn't check your footing." I look around and the 'challenge arena' fades away, and the corsairs are hurriedly making sail. "If you'll excuse me, I've got a sentence to carry out. I'll come back to free you once I've finished."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd April 2012
11:31 GMT -5

Ted's grinning as he points to the whistle held in the vice.

"To put it simply: it puts people to sleep."

Huh.

No, no, that actually makes a good deal of sense. The Dreamkin were stealing objects from dreams and using Sandy's connection to the Dreaming to keep them existing in the waking world. If we assume that they used other people prior to him… Or just knocked people out to take their dreams at times of their own convenience, it would make a lot of sense for them to prioritise that sort of artefact.

"For… How long?"

"Until they wake up. We've been able to wake up our volunteers after about a minute, and no one's stayed asleep more than nine hours. All the tests we've done on brain waves, blood chemistry… Everything, shows the sleep itself is completely mundane. But… It's the whistle, not the sound. We've replicated the sound, played recordings… It doesn't work. And our magic people can't make sense of it either."

"No. It's a dream manifestation, not an enchanted object. They've probably never seen one before. Dream magic isn't really.. studied in Atlantis."

Because it's a pain to study and because as of a little while ago King Orin accepted the fait accompli and recognised Venturia's independence, meaning that they're not part of Atlantis any longer. Though Cyprian did agree to open his city to trade with the other city states, so… Really, the rest of Atlantis is getting more out of the place now than they have for decades.

"So… Someone dreamed about a whistle that could put people to sleep, and this is it?" He regards it with a frown. "It can't be that easy."

"No, it's more like… This object is an archetype that people dream about, and they're all dreaming about this."

"And now they can't, because it's here? Are we gunna get in trouble with Morpheus about that?"

"We've all slept at least once since we acquired it. He's spoken to Glob, so he knows we've got it. If he had a problem with it, we'd definitely know about it by now."

He nods, his momentary concern being overshadowed by his fascination with his new toy.

"It works on insomniacs, too. I mean, we haven't tested it on people with actual neurological disorders-. Is that safe?"

"It should be, but I can't give you any guarantees. It should just do what it does, but… There could be just about any other effects."

"And we can't exactly just call Morpheus up and ask him about it."

"Actually, we can. He's not a demon so there aren't really any laws against it. He can just decide not to answer. Just asking him to put in an appearance shouldn't… Bother him. Or we can ask Melinoë, or find someone who knows how to dream lucidly… There are options."

"Is it possible to make more of them?" I raise my eyebrows. "Sure, it's not hurricane control, but we could put every sleep aid manufacturer out of business. And it would make a pretty good low-lethality weapon."

"I have no idea. I.. doubt it, and… It'll be years at least before we know enough about how the Dreaming works to do it… 'Digitally'."

"So we gotta talk to Morpheus."

"If you think this is worth pursuing right now."

He thinks for a moment, then sags slightly. "I wanna say 'yes'… But I don't think it is. Not right now. Not with the healing ray roll-out coming up, and the earthquake control systems and the water purifiers…"

"No need to sound so disappointed. You're doing better than STAR Labs managed."

"But it's just all so great! We're making more progress on this stuff than I expected to for decades! Sometimes I have to pinch myself-. Oh."

"Oh?"

"Speaking of things I can't believe are happening to me… I got a date."

"You're good company, rich, and passably attractive. It's not that weird. Did Io say 'yes', or-."

He winces, shaking his head.

"Oh… God no. Turns out? Most Amazons are gay."

"I honestly hadn't spotted that."

"Yeah… Well… You think… 'Okay, they haven't seen a man in three thousand years, maybe they're curious'. And… They're not. Not in a million-. Ah, three thousand years."

"I may not live in New York, but I have heard the stories."

And attended the court hearings. Honestly, those are usually more the Amazon's fault than those of the men -and it virtually always is men- they get into fights with. They think they're ready, we try to ease them in gradually, then they encounter men in the wild and they all too often don't react well.

We haven't had a maternity lawsuit yet, and if incidents so far are anything to go by we don't have anything to worry about.

"And I like Io. We have a lot in common. But she wasn't picking up on my signals, and when I asked about it… She didn't even recognise what I was doing. And she was pretty direct about not being into men. So that was a bust. But I got talking to Tia Sivana and she asked me out."

Considering what she was doing this time last year…

"Did she.. mention-?"

"Yeah, I know, it's her family day and she wants to be able to pretend that she's got a social life… Which I can relate to. But she's brilliant-."

"And about a decade younger than you."

"Sure, but it's not like I lie about my age."

…

Y-eah.

"Not since I could buy alcohol legally, anyway. And you can't tell me that she's not mature enough to make her own decisions."

"No, I… Suppose I can't."

"You went with her last year, right?" I nod. "What's it..? Like?"

"It's a sealed artificial habitat on a death world. As automated as a family of technological and scientific geniuses can make it. Venus is a very nice woman-. You know Beautia only took me because she finds dealing with her siblings extremely trying, right?"

"I didn't think Magnificus was that bad. But just in case, I've read up on his work enough that I should be able to stroke his ego."

"Okay, and what about Thaddeus and Georgia?"

He pales slightly. "They're gunna be there?"

"It's a family day, and they haven't committed any crimes on Venus."

"Oh. And her… Will her.. father be there?"

"Probably. But there's a truce, so he probably won't do anything."

"Huh." He thinks for a moment. "You know, I read up on his stuff, too. You were right; it's a real shame no one took him up on it before he… You know, went-"

"Supervillain."

"-crazy. Can I..? Talk about that with him?"

"I wouldn't start with that, but yes. He doesn't care what anyone outside of his family thinks about him." He nods, risking a small smile. "It's the younger siblings you should be worried about. Has Beautia told you about the possumizer?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

26th April
07:03 GMT -5

Sanderson looks up as I walk into the kitchen and take a seat opposite him.

"So you're today's babysitter."

"You need help, I'm here to give it."

He turns his head back towards his cereal bowl. "You know I can't eat this? It just sits… In me until I change shape, and then it falls out. The milk is the worst part."

"Can you eat sand?"

"'Kid' Flash already thought of that. I can, but it doesn't do anything. And it feels really weird, like it never really becomes part of me."

"Makes sense. However this happened to you, you couldn't function without some way to differentiate between the bits that are part of you and the bits that aren't."

Okay, awkward bit.

"I know Diana's already talked to you about school, but I was wondering if anyone had asked-? No, I'm wondering what you wanted to do about being made of sand."

"What can I do?"

I take an enchanted necklace out of my equipment harness and put in on the table in front of him.

"There's a range of options, and that's step one."

"I don't wear jewellery. Or clothes."

"It's enchanted. One of my particular talents is locating solutions to apparently intractable problems. This… Should make you feel more human. I got the original put together for a man named Matthew Hagen, who got turned into clay-rich mud. It took a little while to get a version adapted for you, but we're pretty sure that it will work now."

He reaches for it with his right hand. "What exactly does it-?"

The change starts the moment he touches it, the 'flesh' parts of his body gaining a fleshy appearance and his clothing starting to look like clothing again. He gasps in shock, dropping the amulet. As it clatters against the table his body shifts back.

"That-! It felt-!"

"Yes, you won't just look human to everyone else. It also gives you sensory feedback. I don't know how you perceive the world as a man made out of sand-."

"Do you know what it's like not to be able to feel your own heart beating?"

"Yes. I once had to turn myself into a cyborg, and I replaced my heart with a pump."

That appears to take the wind out of his sails slightly.

"Oh. How did you..? Fix it?"

"Power ring." I shrug. "Everything apart from the brain is basically brain-support anyway. I can transmute machine into flesh and back again. You're difficult because you don't have a brain and your mind is distributed across your body with magic." I hesitate. "I assume magic, because I can't work out how a piezoelectric consciousness would work and you were transformed by an alchemical solution."

He nods and picks it up again, holding it in both-

Canis strides in, sketchbook in hand, pencil already in motion.

-hands, the transformative effect taking hold again. Ignoring the pencil-scratching sound and Canis's stare, he cautiously lifts his left hand away and runs it through his hair.

"Oh God. Is this permanent?"

"It recharges from ambient magic energy, so as long as you don't go into space power consumption isn't an issue. But you need to remember that this is all appearance; you're still made of sand underneath it all."

He nods, lowering his left hand and staring at it for a moment before pulling in his fingers and turning it into a sandy bulb.

"This feels weirder."

"Because the spell is only designed for things that are human-shaped. It's trying to give you the feedback you'd get from a hand when you don't physically have a hand."

He nods, re-extruding his fingers. "So these aren't clothes and this isn't hair, but it can pretend."

I nod. "Which is why I want to know what you want to do next. The magic people I work with find this all fascinating, so the cost isn't a problem. The problem is the decidedly finite pool of people who can meaningfully work on this, which is why you need to tell me what outcome you want so I can tell them what they should be working on."

He puts the necklace around his neck, wiggles a little to make sure that it remains active when moving, then nods.

"What are my options?"

"We can try and transfer your consciousness into a new human body. Since I don't have any record of your genetic structure it won't be exactly the same as the one you were born with, but I've got pictures of you and records on your closest relations so it'll be close."

He doesn't look comfortable with that. Which is reasonable. I suppose that I could try and find an old hair or skin cell or something. DNA lasts a very long time. But finding-.

"And what happens to the copy?"

I blink. "I'm sorry?"

"The new body. What happens to its consciousness? When I get… Put in there?"

I shake my head. "No, no, it wouldn't have one. For goodness sake, Sanderson, what sort of person do you think I am?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn't-. It just sounded like mad.. Frankenstein-science. I shouldn't have said that."

He actually.. holds out his right hand.

"Okay." I take his hand and shake it. "But please try to remember that despite my eccentricities I am a superhero. I'm not going to murder people for the sake of personal advantage."

He nods, releasing my hand. "How long will it take?"

"No idea. Creating a 'blank' human body is easy. Transferring a consciousness isn't too hard, but since we don't understand how you work there are a lot of added risks. And unless you're familiar with the magic involved yourself there would be a risk that you might 'snap back' into the sand that you're occupying now."

"Alright. What are my other options?"

"We could try undoing the transformation spell." He opens his mouth but I hold up my right hand. "We don't know how you were turned into sand. People are going over Mister Dodds' notes in detail now, but they're going to have to relearn everything he did before they can even think about how to undo the results of the test that changed you. It might not even be possible."

He nods. "Are there any other options?"

"You can stay like this. You're nearly immortal and have super powers; that's not so bad. There's a man I know called Rama Khan who can make bodies out of coloured sand; he might be able to tutor you." He doesn't look impressed. "We could try making a deal with an eldritch life form to change you."

"Like a.. demon..?"

"I do know a few demons who could charge a price we could bear, but I was thinking about one of the Olympians or possibly Morpheus himself. We wouldn't learn anything about the process and the price might still be considerable, but that's probably the fastest option."

"I'm not so keen on doing that."

"As you will. We could try creating a new spell to grant you human form without directly undoing the original transformation. We can make you a body you can control by proxy without being fully transferred into it. Or you could learn magic yourself and focus on self-transformation spells."

He nods. "Look, I appreciate the help, but this is a lot to take in. Can I think about it?"

I nod. "Of course. Let me know what you decide."

 

[Mr Zoat]

28th April
09:28 GMT -5

"…because I'm somehow the 'most evil'." Magnificus grimaces imperiously. "'Most evil'. The nerve of it."

"They are working to save the world from alien invasion while you're working for Lex Luthor."

"I can't quit! With Arnold-. Hugo gone, I'm running the place. I'm somewhat aware of the nature of Lex's other business, but alchemical research needs to continue and I don't see anyone else funding it."

"And Nyssa's there."

"It does make things easier." He gives his head a small shake. "I really don't think that they can claim to have reformed just because they're not-" He looks around as we walk through the Hall of Justice. "-'acting out' at the moment, that suddenly all of their misdeeds have just vanished."

"If it helps, their behaviour might not matter. Unless they change their internal moral beliefs they can't get into Heaven."

He frowns sceptically. "You said that you weren't impressed by Heaven. That you'd rather go to Erebos."

"True, but I'm not them."

"I doubt that they'd like Heaven any more than you did. And after you mentioned Hell's unique form of arcane engineering I wouldn't be surprised if they were positively looking forward to it."

"Having another ally as a leading figure in Hell could be useful."

"Regardless of their spurious assertion, I'm not fond of acting as their messenger. If they want to pass information to the Justice League this badly they should just have sent an e-mail. Or used a robot courier."

"This helps with plausible deniability."

He rolls his eyes as I scan my key card and let us into the 'backstage' area of the Hall.

"Yes, where could Magnificus Sivana have come by this information? A person hardly needs to possess Sivanic intelligence to deduce the most likely source."

"'Plausible'. Not 'probable'. And are you sure that your disquiet isn't just down to the fact that you don't think you could beat Superboy in a fight?"

"No, I'm over all that. My focus is -and always should have been- on my intellectual achievements. What is Superboy majoring in?"

"His High School diploma? I think he's taking a mechanical engineering after school course."

"Let me know if he wants any help with that."

"You can ask him yourself."

"Yes, but it's bad form to just walk up to someone who thinks they have a secure secret identity. Particularly if one wants to keep out of all of that business. No offence intended."

"None taken. I'd much rather that more scientists of your calibre kept their minds on their research rather than mass murder or world domination."

He nods, apparently satisfied with that division of labour.

I scan my key card again through the reader attached to the conference room.

"Just in here."

I walk through the doorway and hold it open for Magnificus as he strolls in, not showing particular interest in the Justice League members waiting for him. William wanted to be here when he heard the name 'Sivana', Batman and Mr Hol are here in their capacity as intelligence analysts and Angelica is here as duty magician. John Stewart and Guy are here, and Guy gives me a smile and a jaunty wave as we make eye contact.

Magnificus looks at the empty position at the foot of the table, sniffs, then pulls a holographic drone out of his pocket and lightly tosses it into the air. It swiftly rights itself and projects an image of the Sheeda-seeming warlock from Kennedy. After some pressure he gave his name as 'He-Died-For-Thee Bennett', though he would not be drawn on who the 'He' in his slogan-name referred to. My guess would be either Jesus or Melmoth.

"We have good data on Sheeda weapons and behavior. We know that they're coming here soon, and we're all trying to be as ready as we can. But we don't know what Melmoth is planning, and there's a high likelihood that his people have further information on the Queen-aligned Sheeda that no one on Earth has access to." The image is replaced by one of Beulah Bleak. "Despite Klarion's death Orange Lantern managed to arrange things so that the witch-hunters left on less than friendly terms."

He's not wrong. The rest of them weren't any more impressed by that sojourn into Hell than Beulah was.

"Nonetheless… 'Certain contacts of mine' believe that they can open a portal to the parallel world which these 'witch-people' come from. They also believe that the Justice League is best placed to make contact with their government and handle relations with them. Their indoctrinated hatred of all things Sheeda should make them natural allies, and the presence of an angel or two should appeal to their religious sensibilities."

William frowns. "Who exactly are 'certain contacts'?"

"People of whom it might be useful for you to be able to later honestly claim that you had no knowledge."

Batman inclines his head slightly.

"We will of course verify the technique your contacts recommend."

"Of course. I would be almost insulted if you didn't."

"Yeah." William points at him. "See, it's when you say things like that that I get worried."

"Because the League is practicing basic data network security?" Magnificus dismisses William with a shake of his head. "One of the difficulties with the method they employed is that there is a substantial delay between when their pathways can be opened. Anyone you send will have to have a convincing excuse as to why their 'secret identity' is absenting themselves from their regular work, perhaps for months."

Which means that Kal-El can't really go. Batman could… Maybe. Jordan can if he brings Arisia. Mr Allen and King Orin can't. So… Probably Diana leading the mission? And if my team mates aren't skiving… I can go, as can Zatanna, Garth, Tula, Roy, Canis, Starfire… But maybe I need to recuse myself? It's not as if I'm actually repentant… But I'm also carrying a power ring that will let me study alien technology better than anything any of the League members might have can.

Angelica makes a circling motion with her right hand.

"And will your 'contacts' wish to accompany us? Or expect us to share our discoveries with them?"

Magnificus huffs quietly.

"I believe that they feel that they will be able to access your records, whether you wish them to or not. As such, neither issue is a material consideration for them."

William's eyes widen slightly and he looks at Batman in genuine concern. When Batman doesn't really respond he moves to Hawkman and then looks around the room at the rest of us.

"Doesn't that worry anyone else?"

Mr Hol shakes his head.

"If these 'contacts' are members of Dr Sivana's family, they are already perfectly capable of designing weapons which could end human civilisation. There is no greater risk in them gaining the ability to make civilisation-ending weapons which make use of Sheeda technology."

"An' if we're not goin' after them 'cause we think they only really wanna fight the Sheeda anyway, where's the harm in makin' 'em better at it?" Guy shrugs. "Way I see it, either they're a problem and we should be all over it, or they're not. So yeah, let's go talk t' tha witches."

Batman nods. "Thank you, Doctor Sivana. You will have a response from the Justice League by the end of the day."

 

[Mr Zoat]

29th April
10:17 GMT -5

"Aw man." Wallace grouches as he slumps in his chair. "Couldn't they do this over summer vacation?"

Richard shakes his head. "We don't know when the Sheeda are going to arrive. This… Can't wait."

"Yeah, I.. know." Wallace sighs. "I'm just bummed out that I'm missing going to an alien planet."

Canis shakes his head. "Most worlds are less interesting than you might think. If it truly vexes you, I can just open a boom tube to somewhere for you?"

Wallace perks up. "Really? Thanks, dude."

Artemis's eyes narrow. "Wait. What's the catch?"

"There is no catch." Canis shrugs in disinterest, then hesitates. "Though perhaps I should warn you that most of the worlds I visited… Do not remember New Gods kindly. And of course you would not be able to speak with anyone."

"I'm not a New God."

"If you were to enter by boom tube while wearing that costume and moving as you do, the locals may simply assume." He shrugs. "I would remonstrate with them for the insult, but the notion that you could be-" He chuckles. "-one of us is so ridiculous to anyone who knows anything of the New Gods that it hardly seems worth it. Slaying an imbecile is hardly gratifying."

"I.. think.. perhaps…" Angelika clenches her right fist nervously. "Imbeciles have something to offer?"

Raquel puts her right hand on Angelika's left shoulder. "No, no. Like this. Canis?"

"Yes?"

"Shut the hell up."

At the head of the room, Kaldur takes a breath, readying himself to restore order. But Canis doesn't seem particularly perturbed.

"Not unless she asks. I want to see the moment when she puts her new understanding of her nature into practice."

Angelika takes a deep breath and draws herself up slightly. "Canis, shut the hell up."

He smiles, gives her a mock bow from his seat and then settles back, pulling out a tablet upon which he begins outlining a new artwork of some kind.

Kaldur nods his head slightly. "To return us to the question at hand; Batman has requested that anyone who wishes to accompany the League's mission to the parallel universe should make themselves known. Those members of the team who are attending school are obviously ineligible."

Which… Actually isn't the majority of our team any more. We've gone from being a sidekick team to a mixed-age training team. Or… Given that I was going to be offered a Justice League place prior to killing Nabu, a mixed age Justice League affiliated team that happens to include some trainees.

"I'll be putting my name forward, though given why the witch-hunters left Batman might decide to turn me down."

Zatanna nods. "I'm going to volunteer. I want to see what a society shaped by magic.. that isn't Atlantis, looks like."

Richard looks sceptical. "Is your father going to be okay with that?"

She shrugs. "I'll convince him."

Angelika shakes her head. "I do not think I have much to offer this mission. And I do not think that I should represent this Earth to parallel universes."

Lantern Rrab makes a gesture of equivocation. "Whether or not I go will be up to Lantern Jordan."

Ghia'ta nods. "I am in the same position, and.. I.. doubt that Carol will be invited on the League mission."

Amon shakes his head. "Neither my brother-in-law or my sister will allow me to miss so many lessons with my tutors. Unless there is some special need for me, I should say no."

Noriel thinks, then shakes her head. "Zauriel is serving as my shepherd, and I do not think that he will be pleased with me travelling to a world where they make such common use of unclean magics."

Leonid nods. "Russia needs this information. My choice is simple."

Canis smiles at Angelika, then rapidly signs his response.

My presence has been requested, since my Aunt and Uncle have prior commitments. My Mother Box will be our primary route of egress should the Savannahs betray us.

Roy appears to understand Canis's response, and then nods his own. "I'm in."

Garth frowns thoughtfully. "Which of the League's magicians are going?"

Kaldur shakes his head. "Batman has not informed me. I imagine that they are still determining their team's composition now. But putting your name forward does not mean that you will go, just that you are willing to go if you are asked."

He nods, then he and Tula make eye contract for a moment before nodding.

"Then we volunteer."

I suppose that with them being soldiers they don't have the same degree of freedom to choose that us unpaid volunteers have. And that just leaves Kaldur himself.

"I will also be volunteering, though given the content of the mission brief I do not expect to be selected. I will inform Batman of your decisions at the end of this meeting."

Kon folds his arms across his chest. "So what are the rest of us doing?"

"We will participate in planning for the mission, but while it is ongoing those who remain will more frequently be called upon to act as support for the Justice League."

Wallace smiles. "Think I can live with that. Oh, hey." He turns to me. "See if you can pick me up some alchemy textbooks while you're over there."

"Will do. I'll be trying to get hold of examples of their arcane machinery as well as their Sheeda-derived stuff."

Richard smiles. "Klepto-Lantern strikes again."

"Wouldn't that imply that I just steal lanterns?"

"Kleptomaniacs don't just steal maniacs, Oh El."

"Fair point. And no, I'm going to trade for them. As far as I could tell from their last visit they don't have much of an understanding of magic theory."

Kaldur regards me levelly. "This will be a Justice League mission. If you are invited, you should not make any trades that you have not cleared with the mission leader."

I raise my hands. "I know. I'm not going to deliberately undermine anyone, though I won't promise that I won't make a few deals on the side."

Noriel scowls. "If you raise the dead then I will burn them."

"I'm not going to raise the dead-" A few eyebrows are raised. "-using witch-sign, because that only works on people with Sheeda blood and because I'm only interested in true resurrection which the people of witch-world don't try for theological reasons."

Zatanna pats me on my right arm. "And because you can't use normal magic anyway."

I hold up my right hand and make a construct in the shape of the grundymen command sigil which the witch-hunters used.

"Yeah, that too." I look at Kaldur. "Shall I do a full briefing on our previous encounters with them?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
06:57 GMT -5

Huh.

The device that is going to be sending us on our way is something out of a…

Well, it-.

...

Actually, I'm not sure what it would have come from. It's a mixture of Hephaestus's forge, Cadmus's Science Basement and Doctor Frankenstein's laboratory. Translucent jars contain not g-sprites but the impaled remains of Sheeda spine-riders, runes traced on the glass and on the solid metal mechanism which serves as the active part of the device. The controls are purely mechanical; solidly welded levers and cranks can bring various parts to bear and a simple steam engine powers the whole thing.

But that-.

Ah, I see. The Sheeda aren't merely pinned open like anatomical specimens, they're in some sort of fluid which is being pumped around the thaumically active parts of the device.

The whole thing is a weirdly primitive form of techno-magic. If I hadn't spoken to Magnificus myself… This doesn't look like anything I've seen the Sivanas build before. I'm getting Thirteen Ghosts flashbacks again.

And that's leaving aside the fact that I've no idea how they got it into the Breed Building's basement. Though I suppose if you're going to perform morally dubious magic it's best to pick somewhere that it can't really make more tainted than it already is. We put monitoring devices down in case Mr. Gotham's boss turned up here looking for him. This being here is professionally irritating. And from his general attitude I can see that Batman feels the same way.

"Will it work?"

Dr. Balewa doesn't look around as he continues to slowly examine the machine.

"I am… Not familiar with this method of opening portals. Some of the mechanical and biological substitutions make sense to me, but I have never seen anything quite like it."

A cog in the machine clanks into a new position.

"It is quite disquieting."

"Doctor Fate?"

John raises his hands, a translucent ankh appearing in each one. Golden threads trail off each and are sucked into the machinery at various points and are drawn inside. He and Dr. Balewa carefully watch where they go.

"Huh."

"Mm."

Another clanking transition.

"Hate to rush you, sirs, but if we don't use this in the next few minutes then we have to wait eight months."

Batman glances my way, then returns his full attention to the two magicians. "If we have to wait eight months then we have to wait eight months, but I need your verdict. Is it safe to use?"

"Betman, we cannot give you an answer with complete certainty. Not within the time available. I do not believe that there are any treps and I am happy to risk my safety with it, but there are things about it that I do not completely understand."

"…concern, Diana, but I have been fully recovered for some time."

Diana and Mr Zatara walk into the antechamber where I shot Strega's leg off.

"And since it.. sounds-"

Mr Zatara's eyes alight on John's helmet, prompting a deep inhalation and a slight hesitation.

"-like my colleagues could benefit from my abilities, I will offer my assistance."

"J-Giovanni." John nods a greeting while Dr. Balewa raises his eyebrows slightly in mild surprise.

Mr Zatara steps up to the machine and raises his arms.

"Laever spart."

A wave of dull gold light passes over the machinery and then vanishes. Mr. Zatara nods.

"There are no deliberate traps, though I will bow to my colleagues' expertise on whether it will function as intended."

"That, I will guarantee." Dr. Balewa looks like he wants to ask Mr. Zatara more about what he just did, but then there's another clank and some of the tubing starts to glow. "I believe that this is it."

Diana nods. "Wonder Woman to the Justice League. Everyone taking part in the Witch World mission should come to the gate machine now."

I watch as the rest of the mission team walk or fly in. The mission selection makes perfect sense to me. Anyone with a secret identity or a normal job is out. Dmitri can't come because he can't maintain his armour. William Harper can't come because he won't be able to refresh his quiver. Red Tornado can't come because we don't know how the locals will feel about his innate magics. Angelica ended up being cut for the same reason; the Witch Worlders are Puritans, not Yazidis. The idea that a demon might repent is something we should probably ease them into.

John Stewart and Alan enter first, personal lanterns in hand since we're not completely sure that subspace pockets will keep working on the far side. Brut lopes through next, Canis sitting tall on his back, saddlebags full of essentials and art supplies. Major Adams walks through the door in his human-seeming form, dress uniform on and a heavy field pack on his back, with Mr Yao and Leonid just behind him carrying a similar pack.

And that's it. Not too big, powerful enough to deal with most situations without risking being too big a threat to the people we're visiting, and containing at least two people who could get us back if they're totally hostile or not willing to guide us in using their witch-paths.

"…returning to the League."

And I missed Batman moving across the room to talk to Mr. Zatara.

"Yes, I am fully fit, and my powers are recovered. I'm afraid that my professional commitments mean that I cannot take part in this mission, but I am once more available to the League."

"Thank you. It's good to have you back."

Well. Mr. Zatara's a far more forgiving man than I am.

I step closer to Alan, who's frowning at the machine. "This cockamamie contraption is supposed to take us to a parallel universe?"

"Yes, and I suspect that on the far end of the photosensitive spider web up there-" I nod to the ceiling. "-the people who made it are laughing about how hesitant we're being."

"How did they even get it in here?"

"I'd guess ritual-based magic teleportation. Those can be surprisingly quiet, mystically speaking. I haven't put much effort into studying them because they're too slow to have tactical uses."

"Huh. And that doesn't worry you?"

"You can't worry about every little thing. That's what Batman's for." Major Adams smiles as he overhears me. "Is this your first time in a parallel universe?"

"I suppose that depends on what counts as a 'universe'. Back in the thirties I went through a hole in near-Earth space to a place that looked like Victorian Britain. I still don't really know if that was time travel or not. The handful of other times I did something like this, it was to little magical… Places. Like Erebos, or things like that." He eyes the machine warily. "This is new. I don't remember the other portals having this many dead fairies stuck on them."

"It was built by a supervillain. I suppose they just felt-"

John Quinn turns a dial and pulls two levers, causing cogs to align with a clank and a flywheel to start spinning.

"-a certain aesthetic was required."

Blue-white flecks leap from the flywheel and precipitate onto the central platform, causing the space within to twist…

And there's another clank as the portal fully engages.

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
07:01 GMT -5

The 'portal' manifests as a thin circular outline picked out in white-blue flecks paired with a distant 'dot' and a strange sense of distance. Major Adams and I glance at Dr. Balewa as he and John Quinn do a quick check, then Dr. Balewa places his hands on his chest. A moment later glowing green lines float over his skin in a protective layer.

"The portal is stable. I will take the lead, in case there are any difficulties in the journey which require a specialist. Follow me in thirty seconds."

Diana nods, and he strides into the circular outline, almost immediately… Shrinking towards the vanishing point in the distance… And he's gone.

John Stewart purses his lips. "How do we know he made it through?"

"Kcart Rotcod Tsim."

Mr. Zatara's eyes flicker for a moment, his expression growing a little vacant.

"He is travelling through the path without any difficulty." His eyes clear. "This device appears to make following the correct pathway instinctive." He turns to me. "Did the witch-hunters you spoke with say how long passage took?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

Alan gives me a lopsided smile. "So who gets to go next?"

"I will." / "It is my-." / "Me?"

Leonid, Diana and I look at each other. There's no obvious reason for Leonid to take the next spot; he has no way to communicate back. Canis is the logical person, then either me -because if something goes wrong I can try to hop into the Honden to dodge it- or Diana due to her arcane resistance.

Diana smiles at me. "It is my responsibility."

"Right, but whether you get through or don't, how will we know?"

"As you have said, I am a Titan. If I were to die, Doctor Fate would swiftly become aware of it."

Hm. "Canis, if you went through, how quickly could you open a boom tube back?"

"Mother Box would have to adapt to the local physics. Perhaps a few hours, perhaps a few days…" He shrugs. "Perhaps longer. If you wait, this pathway will not still be available."

"A Lantern could... Probably send a message back."

Alan frowns. "I thought we were sure this wasn't going to kill us?"

Diana nods. "It is unlikely, but we are taking the possibility that we are wrong into account in the thirty seconds allotted to us. Which have now elapsed." She rises off the ground and flies forward. "Thirty seconds, and then if there is no sign anything is wrong, follow me."

"Sir."

Alan smiles as Diana disappears. "It's a bit like a camping trip, isn't it?"

"Not if I can help it. If we turn up in the middle of nowhere, I'm building a log cabin."

Major Adams smiles. "Don't like roughing it, Orange Lantern? I thought you were supposed to be a military officer."

"Post-scarcity special forces, not industrial-age infantry. I went camping when I was younger, and in the unlikely event that Jade and I produce an outdoorsy offspring I may reacquaint myself with it. Otherwise, I fight to preserve civilisation and houses are far more civilised than tents."

He snorts with amusement, while Alan frowns.

"You and Jade talked about kids? I thought you said the plan was for the two of you to be engaged for years?"

"Not in.. specific terms. I'm just saying that if we did-."

"That's thirty seconds." John looks at the magical duo. "Doctor Fate? Zatara?"

Zatara nods. "As far as I can tell, they both made passage successfully."

John Quinn nods in agreement, and John Stewart nods an acknowledgement.

"Looks like we're up." John generates green armour for himself and then flies forward into the portal.

Brut and Canis bound through next, followed closely by Leonid. Major Adams walks forward at marching speed as Alan and I armour ourselves. We fly forward slowly with our personal lanterns in hand, letting Adams pass through the aperture before accelerating after him.

Passing into the witch-path… Doesn't feel like anything, and a quick glance at Alan doesn't show any particular response. In front of me is… Nothingness, with faint blue-white guidelines..? Reminds me a little bit of the animation that used to play on Stargate whenever anyone went through the gate, only less rollercoastery. Alan's still next to me, but I can't see Major Adams or anyone else. I'm.. getting a vague sense that there are other passageways here, curving up or down or off to the side. But… The one I'm on is most readily apparent, not… Brighter, exactly, but its existence is clearer.

Right, well, I don't know a lot about fae magic, but I do know that getting distracted around them is a bad idea. So no use of the orange light beyond the armour I've already got, no scanning and certainly no Ophidian. Just following the path, just following the path. There's no real sense of space; we could have been flying for miles or have barely moved. I could try talking to Alan but I'm.. concerned that might result in things going wrong.

Can't see anything ahead, and I'm not turning my head to check behind. The blue glow from Alan tells me that he's still there.

Huh. I wonder if arcane technology has advanced to the point where formerly dangerous forms of magic transportation are now safe? Definitely need to follow up with Morpheus and Mammon about magic-based starships. I doubt that the Sivanas would have made a temporary portal if a permanent one was possible, but if we can get Sephtian out to Gotham to dismantle the machine and work out how it works, we could learn all sorts of thi-.

The light at the end of the tunnel appears to be getting closer. It's been a fairly smooth journey so far, so I'm-.

The light appears to leap at us, and we appear in a ring of menhirs in.. an area of pastureland. A flock of sheep are already sleepily ambling away from our party -quick headcount, yes, everyone's here- as the group gets its bearings. It's night time here, though I'll hold off on making wide scale scans until I know who might get offended by that. Bit off that there's no security-.

Dr. Balewa waves his hands at the closest exit from the menhir… No, it's not just a ring. There's a geometric arrangement that just happens to have a circular outer ring. He gestures at the exit.

"There are bound spells of detection and protection. The protective spells are not designed to stop humans, but… Wonder Woman, Orange Lantern, you may be somewhat affected."

"Oi! Who goes there! Jeremiah, you lubberwort, if you're sneaking out to vex the landswarden again you'll feel the heel of my shoe!"

Diana smiles faintly. "Canis, can Motherbox tell you how long she will need?"

"Ping."

"She says that something is obscuring her senses. Weeks, perhaps, if it remains active."

A lantern glowing with eldritch green fire appears through the boughs of a nearby copse.

"Doctor Mist, is the ward dangerous?"

"I do not think it would trouble you greatly. It would be more on the level of a mild discomfort, and perhaps a reluctance to pass it."

"Orange Lantern, Starfire. Survey the local area. Green Lantern, go into orbit and scan the system. Doctor Mist, see what you can learn about local magic without disturbing the local people. Blue Lantern, remain here with Canis. Major Adams, accompany me as I greet the local watchman."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
07:06 GMT -5

"What time of year is it?"

I look down at the nation of Columbia. I hesitate to say 'sleeping' nation because I don't want to trigger alerts by trying to scan houses that from the look of the glowing sigils on their eaves are probably warded. There are eight large towns that I can see from this height, and about a hundred smaller settlements ranging in size from farming hamlets with a few houses to market towns and mining towns with a few dozen. It looks like a successful colony from the era their ancestors were kidnapped.

"I'm not sure. I don't know for certain that they have seasons here."

"The planet's orbit is completely even? Their rotational axis is vertical?"

"I don't know. I'm trying to avoid scanning anything I don't have to. Why do you ask?"

He shrugs awkwardly. "Since I was enhanced, I have been less sensitive to temperature and the… Pressure of the wind. As I have moved around the world, I do not always know what the temperature is. Or what time of year it is." He shakes his head. "I was curious. It does not matter."

"You didn't mention anything about numbness. Is it something I can help with?"

"No, it is not-. I am not numb. If you touch me I will feel it without you needing to punch me. It is that I do not…" He takes a moment to think through the sentence. "My brain does not receive it in the same way."

I nod. "Otherwise you'd get overloaded when someone in your weight class did hit you."

"That would be a problem. Please, continue with your task." He smiles faintly. "I will watch out for houses with chicken legs."

They've got road… Turnpikes? They appear to use the Macadam method, rather than covering them with tarmac. I also can't see any evidence of steam power, though I suppose with grundymen providing physical power they wouldn't need it. I can see horse drawn carts but no cars or sedan chairs. Sedan chairs would make sense, wouldn't they? A grundyman front and back and they could carry the occupant easily enough.

"Wrong mythology. Though I think I was right about the seasons." I point upwards towards a glowing dot in the sky. "I haven't checked because I don't want to trip an alert, but I think that's a white dwarf."

They've got canals and I can see boats on the rivers. Rivers that appear to have been straightened in places. I suppose that one thing this place isn't short on is manual labour. I know that the Seven Soldiers version had a prohibition on the menfolk performing certain types of manual labour in the belief that they should be done by grundymen while the men focused on their religious obligations, but the witch-hunters I met didn't seem to find manual labour particularly offensive. I can't see the sea from here, but the rivers appear to be draining to somewhere. Planets with liquid water on the surface but no seas are quite unusual.

"I see." He nods. "I had wondered why it was so light at night. I had thought that we were near dawn." He takes another look at the landscape below. "The plants have leaves, so there must be a normal sun as well."

"There are a couple of different arrangements that can work, but we're not in anything weird like a black hole system."

He raises his eyebrows. "Those exist?"

"They're uncommon, but yes. I'm only aware of two naturally occurring systems like that, where planets formed a very long way away from the star and survived its pre-collapse expansion. There's another one astronomers think was a capture of a rogue planet and a fourth where a sufficiently godlike being just moved a planet there."

There are people up and around. I can see people entering and leaving what I assume to be homes and businesses. A lot of them are accompanied by a grundyman, but I'm not seeing any grundywomen? Is that a cultural prohibition, or are they just employed in different work?

"Are they dangerous?"

"A black hole only has the same mass as the star it was before its collapse. I mean, ultimately, everything in the universe will crash into everything else, but a lucky planet can circle the drain for a very long time. You probably wouldn't want to live on one, though. Most species don't react well to not having a light in the sky."

The churches are easy to identify, and they're relatively modest affairs. Actually, that appears to be a theme in their architecture; frivolity and gaudiness are completely excluded. Externally, at least. Oh, I can tell the wood-built houses of the poor from the stone houses of the rich, but there's nothing flamboyant about the homes of the wealthy. No marble fascias or decorative columns. No stained glass. They've got leaded glass, but I'm not seeing any single-pane large windows.

Huh. Not seeing any overt use of Sheeda technology. That could be a taboo of some sort as well…

"I think I've got enough of a map for us to be going on with. Anything you want to take a look at before we head back do-?"

A blast of purple fire explodes next to us! I create a construct barrier between us and the blast while Leonid just raises his right arm to shield his eyes, the fires burning… It's eating at the construct but not going right through it. Progress!

"There." Leonid points down. "It came from there. We should-. Ask Wonder Woman for permission to engage?"

I look down and ah! My favourite witch-hunter! Who's busy reloading her jezzail while grundymen hold her barrel rest and ammunition pouch.

"No. These people may be dangerous for sixteenth century refugees, but they aren't much of a threat to us and we're not here to pick fights. Please go and tell Wonder Woman what's happening while I try talking Mistress Bleak down."

"This is the woman-." He nods, already floating back towards the menhirs. "I understand."

Beulah raises her miniature artillery piece again and I drop, dimming my glow in an attempt to throw off her aim. I didn't think that she was 'kill-on-sight' angry with me when we parted, but perhaps all she can see is an orange dot in the sky? I watch her grimace as she loses sight of me, her attempt to track my most likely location spoiled by the unresponsive nature of her gunnery crew.

I land a short distance away, raise my hands and step into her line of sight.

"Mistress Bleak. May I ask-"

She fires, and this time the projectile doesn't explode. Instead it strikes my construct barrier and keeps coming, bending my construct back in the effort to repel it. I opt to simply step aside and then dismiss my barrier, letting the projectile carry on into the nearby trees.

"-why you're shooting at me?"

She levels the jezzail at my chest, her motions slightly.. twitchy.

"Are you alright?"

There is a flicker of light from some of the sigils embroidered on her shawl, then a little of the tension leaves her.

"Well enough not to need aid from the likes of you, pagan. What dark turn of fate brings you to our shores this night?" She shakes her head in irritation. "T'was you who opened the witch-path, deny it not."

"That's how I got here certainly, but it wasn't me who opened it."

She regards me with a level, frustrated gaze. "How many?"

"Eight, including our most capable arcanist. We're here-."

"Why are you here?"

"Because Queen Gloriana Tenebrae's Sheeda are going to be attacking our Earth before too long, and we need information from you."

"We made war upon her husband and his accursed followers. We care not a whit for her."

"But she cares about Melmoth, and I doubt very much that the witch-paths will remain obscured to her if she defeats us."

She nods with clear reluctance. "Perhaps."

"Would you like to speak to the head of the mission, to discuss the matter in more detail?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
07:31 GMT -6

"…President Horne getting a surprising degree of traction in Colorado."

"I…" I nod my head to the side. The gesture will be lost over the radio, but increasing numbers of people watch over the internet these days. "I think it's really more that… With me here… People are willing to look beyond their customary party loyalties and examine the actual content of his platform." I raise my hands. "Though I want to be clear-."

My interviewer raises her pencil-thin eyebrows sceptically. "You're not campaigning for the President."

"Just so. I-."

"Every time you get an interview and promote the President, you say you're not campaigning."

I shrug. "The President is what people ask me about. You can ask me about Senator N-."

"Senator Knight. Since you can't seem to remember his name from one interview to the next."

"I was going to say Senator Northrup Bristol…" I frown. "He's still in the running, isn't he?"

"He's still on the ballot paper, but he can't get enough delegates to win the nomination."

And she knows that I'm messing about. I nod to concede the point, and decide that it's time to retire that joke. Senator Bristol didn't have much of a following, even amongst the arch-conservatives who might be considered his natural followers, largely because he sounded dangerously close to wanting to give certain parts of his social ideals… An undue amount of legal authority. Fault-only divorce was one of his more sensible policies.

"You can ask me about my dealings with Senator Knight if you like, but it won't take very long."

"Okay then. What dealing have you had with Senator Knight?"

"Basically none." I shrug. "I arranged for his protection when Doctor Cochin tried to carry out his coup, and I've been on the periphery of a few discussions he and the President were part of, but that's about it. I don't think we've exchanged more than a dozen words. You see; I can only tell you about the interactions I've actually had with people, so anything I say on the subject is naturally going to focus on President Horne. But you can ask me about anything else."

"Alright then." She turns to the… Internet text-channel thing. "Have you got anything to say about rumours you're dating a horse?"

"No, no. Completely ridiculous."

"Because they've got pictu-."

"Princess Luna is a pony, not a horse. A horse would be taller. Also, she's from a parallel universe where ponies are intelligent. Really, it's no more weird than me dating a human would be. Also, she went from trying to stab me to dating me, a dramatic improvement on the order in my previous relationship."

Her expression suggests that she doesn't quite know how to take that. Jade's doing… I hesitate to call it 'good' work in Africa, but certainly 'productive' and 'beneficent'. Their politicians are mostly-. I should say, their surviving politicians are mostly honest, and we're making progress with their industry. The continent as a whole has never been more stable or principled and Lex is building so many spaceships without having to worry about first world spies.

"So.. I.. understand that you send your children to a public school."

I fro-. "Oh! Oh, sorry. Ah. In Britain a 'public' school is one you can attend regardless of where you live or what religion you practise. They're still private organisations, rather than public services." I nod. "Yes, all my children attend our local school. Since none of them had what you might call.. normal childhoods, I thought that improving their social skills and.. helping them make connections in the local community was the most important consideration."

"That implies you don't think very highly of the quality of the school's teaching."

"No, no, that's… I'm in the fortunate position to have good relations with the genomorphs. I employ a lot of them in Challenger Mountain and I've been involved in helping them find their feet in human society. So it really wasn't that difficult to have a lot of the purely rote learning stuff telepathically inserted into my children's minds. That's a service the genomorphs offer commercially, and since my younger children would have been so far behind their peers otherwise it seemed wise to avail ourselves of it."

"So between the genomorphs teaching them facts and the school teaching them how to use it, you've covered all of your bases."

I nod. "Nearly. I had to cover a couple of things myself. There aren't a lot of New Gods on Earth, so I had to teach Lynne the New God specific things myself. Likewise, my younger children have a tutor for their own arcane abilities. And since American schools are so reticent in that area, I had to cover sex education myself. Which was a little bit awkward, because I had no prior knowledge of how sanitary pads or.. tampons worked, until I needed to find out for my younger girls. If you're a boy, British sex education just skips right past that stuff-. Or at least it did when I was in school."

"You..? Ah, you didn't get sex education from… On Apokolips?"

"Sort of. That was a five minute aside from my father's chief torturer during my physiology lectures."

Confirmed by the late and unlamented Father Box.

"I can't say it really stuck out? And that wouldn't have covered 'feminine hygiene' anyway; female New Gods can consciously control their fertility and so have no need for that sort of thing. But when I was growing up in Britain during my 'second childhood', I didn't remember any of that."

"A lot of American parents don't want schools to teach their children about sex in case it encourages them to become sexually active before they're ready to deal with the emotional and physical consequences. How do you feel about that?"

"Well… I'm…" I shrug. "Just used to it being part of the curriculum. And.. it certainly didn't make me sexually precocious. But that's a.. wider difference between Europe and America, you know; collective responsibility versus individual responsibility. In Europe it's considered completely natural to make sure that children get a basic education on how their bodies work in school, along with education on everything else. I think… Some parents withdrew their children from those particular lessons, but it was a pretty small number. But in America it's seen as a big deal… So… Fine; you're responsible for your own children. If you don't want to delegate that responsibility then it's your job as parents to make sure they have the information they need presented in the proper context. I don't have a problem with that, either, and like to think that I've discharged mine in a reasonably competent manner."

She nods. "I see. And what sort of age do you think a parent ought to explain things to their children?"

"The explanations children get for things get… More complex as they get older. But I'd say that the very basics of how the reproductive organs work, it probably makes sense to tell them that as early as possible. 'This is what your heart does, this is where poop comes from, this is what your genitals do.'"

"Ooh."

"Because that way you're not making it sound like it's a taboo subject. You're not drawing any particular emphasis to it, and at that sort of age they're not going to take in the details anyway. If it's not a taboo subject, not only will they not feel embarrassed about asking you questions, it won't be anything like as interesting."

She sits back in the chair.

"I.. think we're going to get some calls about this."

"Good show, but while I don't really have a problem giving the talk to… Just about anyone, I really think… Children, if you're listening? The best ports of call actually are your parents, not phoning a radio program. I know it's weird and awkward, but they've almost certainly been through whatever you're going through, but long enough ago that they've got some perspective on it."

"OkayIthinkthat'senoughonthattopic! Ah. Let's try something nice and uncontroversial, like gun control."

"Ah, alright? To the best of my knowledge, President Horne's position is that the Second Amendment is pretty clear on the subject, and the Federal Government shouldn't be infringing on people's right to bear arms."

"His.. voting record as a Senator and his speeches tell a rather different story."

"The fact that he personally doesn't like private gun ownership doesn't change his reading of the Constitution. It's like free speech: 'I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it'. He is very unlikely to spend any time while in office removing restrictions because he likes living in a country where those restrictions exist, but he isn't going to make more because he doesn't think he has the authority."

"Okay! Well, ah… This is Karolyn McDermott for DCNN, and we'll be… We'll be right back after these messages. … Probably."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
08:38 GMT -5

Brother Abednego looks mildly puzzled. "Who be that?"

New Plymouth's parliament building is constructed like a fortress. The interior walls are painted in dull, sombre tones, and the walls are decorated with pictures of long dead parliamentarians and metal warding-plates. The actual debate chamber is more similar in shape to the US senate or the Scottish Assembly than the House of Commons; arcs of seats facing a central point. I think that probably comes from the fact that early in they didn't really have political parties; everyone was just too glad to have survived Melmoth for that sort of tribalism to have emerged.

"Christopher Columbus? Italian explorer working for the Spanish crown?"

"I know the man not. The hell-fiend Melmoth was not given to preserving our history for our benefit. Even our knowledge of the Lord Christ comes to us only by chance; only two Bibles were held by our forebears when he stole them away from their homes."

Diana and Dr. Balewa are talking with their head of state, Lord-Protector Judah. The rest of us are… Not exactly under guard, but I've noticed that there are more than a few witch-hunters around.

And that most of them are carrying injuries.

"So… Who is it that your country is named after?"

"Saint Columba of Ireland, who preached to the heathens of Scotland and converted them to the worship of the Lord. As we ourselves came upon a strange and unchristian land and made it a place of God." For a moment he looks uncertain. "That is… I should not question, but I foolishly did not think to purchase a tome on the lives of the saints while we were upon your Earth."

Ring?

"Yes, that's right. And if we establish a trading relationship, we can certainly include literature on the history of Christianity."

Abednego smiles. "T'would be a glorious thing, for all that you're a pagan damned to hellfire."

"You're welcome. You're impressively adaptable, for a man with the colour vision God gave a bat."

He looks away for a moment, taking in the walls.

"Tis true, we're not much given to frivolity, but I testify unto thee that mine eyes see just as clearly as thine. I feel the joy of colours when I look upon the natural world which God gave unto Adam, and feel no need to parody the good Lord's work with profane creations."

I nod at the witch-hunter shadowing Major Adams. His arm is in a sling.

"What's with all the walking wounded?"

"Witch-hunters are right busy folk. When our Lord-Protector called for our service, only those such as myself who walk as synchronicity pilgrims, or who were at the hospital here in New Plymouth could answer his call."

…

He's warded of course, and sheeda/human hybrids raised as puritans don't appear to have quite the body language I've been trained to read. Still, that sounded a lot like a lie to me.

"How do your elections work?"

"The business is naught too complex. Each five years every town and area of countryside elects a representative, who meet in the chamber to debate matters of import. The Lord-Protector is in turn elected by their number, to rule us and guide us."

"There are no permanent members?"

He frowns. "I don't follow your meaning."

"In Britain, at the time your forebears were abducted, our parliament had a second chamber. Its members were mostly hereditary, with a small number of bishops and judges providing spiritual and legal advice."

"'Bishops'? We have naught to do with that papist rot. Our church is overseen by a council of elders. And no, we have no lords but the Lord."

"Do you actually know what a 'papist' is?"

"Tis an object?" He looks mildly surprised. "I trow it be a synonym for wrong-headed and heretical."

"You really did lose the history of Christianity, didn't you?"

He nods. "As I spake unto you-."

"Brothers and Sisters!"

I rise from my pew as the Lord Protector marches into our antechamber, lizard familiar on his right shoulder. He's a powerfully built man, and a little taller than most of his contemporaries. But his face… He has almost no expression; as if the muscles which would normally animate it have been paralysed. I doubt that the local puritans go in for botulinum toxin injections, so maybe an injury? It makes him look more fearsome, but for all I know he's laughing on the inside.

"The heathens have requested that we allow them to send a mission to the warlock-breed!"

But he probably isn't.

Diana.. is standing just behind him, and she's got her diplomat-face on. Something odd is happening. Dr. Balewa hasn't accompanied them, so I'm.. assuming that he's already gotten to work? And Alan, Leonid and Major Adams aren't heathens, they're heretics at most. Or is that worse? I can't remember what puritans thought about other Christian denominations.

"I have granted licence for this, and for their study of the artefacts of the accursed sheeda which remain in our possession. In return, they shall aid us against the warlocks who now assail us! Brother Shadrach! You shall instruct them in the progress of the conflict. Brother Abednego! You shall escort their heathen missionary… For so long as you can stand it."

Abednego nods phlegmatically.

"Those of you who are injured, I thank you for the devotion which you show in heeding my call. Return to your sickbeds, that you may regain your full strength. All others, return to your duties."

He about-faces, glaring momentarily at Diana as he marches back out of the room. Him leaving appears to be a general signal to disperse, those carrying visible injuries being given room by their fellows to leave first.

I lean slightly closer to Brother Abednego. "Are there any restrictions on the medical techniques your people can use?"

"Anything involving demons, unclean spirits or changes to the sheeda part of our blood, though the latter is less for faith and more for practical reason."

"But a tool of profane magic is fine?"

"If that wert truly its nature, yes. Have you such a thing?"

I take a purple ray out of my armour and offer it to him. "A purple ray device. Press the trigger and it emits a ray of purple light that will heal anything it touches. Not immediately, but it's far faster than natural healing."

He takes it from me and… A sigil flickers over his right hand and the ray disappears.

"Thank yea. Tis a most generous thing."

Our team moves to gather around Diana as the last of the reassigned witch-hunters file out.

"As the Lord-Protector said, we will be sending a group to the 'warlock-breed'. As you know, when a citizen of Columbia breaks their vows they are transformed by their magic. When this happens they are made an outlaw, and they are usually killed by the witch-hunters. However, those who escape can sometimes establish their own settlement, or survive in the forests away from those who hunt them. It seems that they pass on their physiological changes to their descendants, and it is to one of those communities we will be sending people. Physician, you will take Orange Lantern and Starfire to the settlement Brother Abednego shows you. Learn what you can of them. The rest of us will be attending a lecture by Brother Shadrach. It seems that the Sheeda are more active here than we believed."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
08:59 GMT -5

"Mistress Bleak not going to join us?"

Abednego hesitates for a moment before responding. "Sister Bleak is a canny fighter, strong-willed and true. But she is a scourge where perhaps a feather is more suited."

A couple of local men are supervising the grundymen loading our wagon, while Mr. Yao is quietly humming as he tries to understand their physiology. It looks like their wards don't disrupt his sonic abilities.

"Well said. Very diplomatic."

"We do not customarily work as a group. We were simply the ones who stepped forward when the call was made to face the fiend. Brother Shadrach were powerful moved to face the foul warlock who had slain so many. Sister Beulah wished to kill the murderer of her parents."

"And you?"

"I felt moved to it." He frowns as he catches sight through a window of Diana's part of the team. "Prithee, explain a thing to me."

"Certainly."

"Yonder woman; she is a princess among your folk?"

"Themyscira isn't a huge place, but she's the Crown Princess."

"Why does she… Dress..?"

"Joke-answer or real-answer?"

"As it please you."

"That's the traditional raiment of Themysciran ambassadors. She has dresses and robes, but we weren't sure what sort of reception we were going to get and she wanted to travel light. The bustier itself was made by Hephaestus, and is proof against most forms of attack. It also has the advantage of not binding her arms or legs; Diana is far stronger than any normal woman and if she wore something more binding in a fight she'd risk tearing it."

He frowns thoughtfully. "Still…"

"Have you ever worked on a farm?"

"Aye, as a child, before I was 'pprenticed."

"Did you ever take your shirt off because you got hot from working hard?"

"Aye, I did."

"Was that lascivious? Were you trying to attract the amorous attentions of the local girls?"

"No." He nods. "I take your meaning."

"Oh, it's not my meaning. 'But I say unto you, that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.'"

He smiles. "Ah! So you interpret our Lord and Saviour's lesson as being that the sin is in the watcher, not the one being watched!"

"Well… Not in all circumstances, but for her that form of dress is completely normal. She's not trying to 'lead anyone away from the path of righteousness', she's just armouring her vital organs in case she gets into a fight. If someone gets 'distracted' by it, that's on them."

"I take your meaning, but methinks you would be hard pressed to carry the conclave."

"But I'm not trying to convince the conclave." I nod at the wranglers as they hitch horses to the cart. "Why do you use horses, not grundymen?"

"Controlling grundymen requires us to use our magics while controlling horses requires but a touch of the reins. If those we would speak to seek affray, grundymen would leave me weakened. And there are ways to disrupt the witch-signs I would use."

"And why aren't I just carrying us there?"

"We are a people of Christian witches. This hallowed land upon which we live is rife with spells and witch-signs, which such techniques as you use interfere with. That was what drew Sister Beulah to you."

"And.. she shot me. And you think the 'warlock-breed' would react in the same sort of way?"

"Some members of the parliament have long called for their deaths."

"And you?"

"'The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself.'" He bows his head slightly. "Alas, the magics of the Sheeda do not share the Lord's forbearance."

He walks towards the cart, raising his right hand slightly to draw the attention of our fellow travellers.

"Gentlemen, please take your seats and we will away."

Mr Yao takes a seat on the bench at the front, while Leonid and I land in the back amongst the supply boxes. He claims a box as a seat while I generate a construct. Abednego climbs aboard last, a faint glow coming from the sigils carved into the wood and embossed upon the metal. He lightly shakes the reins and the horses trot out of the yard and down the centre of a largely empty thoroughfare.

Mr Yao looks around as people step to the sides of the road to avoid us. The witch-people clearly haven't felt the need to establish a rule about keeping to one side of the road, and the grundymen are slow enough to respond to their controllers that we have to keep a slow pace.

"How long will this take?"

Abednego shrugs. "Not so long, i'faith. I will use my magic to speed us on our way once we leave the town. That will take us to the closest road, then we must journey across the chalklands for a time. Perhaps a day or two, all told."

"What form of magic?"

"I be a synchronicity pilgrim. The cart, the horses and we ourselves will move at one with the universe."

I frown. "Yes, but wouldn't that.. just mean that obstacles were conveniently absent and connecting ferries will be there when we need them? We'll be moving in harmony with the world, not changing a part of it."

"Ah, you have some knowledge of it!" He smiles, glancing back at me as he does so. "Verily, at the skill of an apprentice that is indeed so. But as my master taught it to me, far greater things are possible if you abandon ego and submerge yourself in the wonder of the Lord's creation."

Which might explain why John never did it. 'Submerging himself in wonder' isn't really his thing. Or… 'Wasn't', I suppose. Becoming a Lord of Order and Chaos might have changed his perspective.

"Mister Abednego?" Leonid leans forwards slightly. "May I ask, what abilities do you use in combat? If this meeting is hostile, we must plan for what you can do."

Abednego tugs his coat aside slightly, showing a brace of pistols.

"I'm a fair shot, but if I'm a'fighting someone without righteous cause I prefer to slip away. Things being what they are, the warlock-folk are powerful riled up."

Mr Yao raises his eyebrows slightly. "For what reason?"

"We bind people against using evil magics because in the early days some of Melmoth's favourites tried doing things… That should not be spoken of. Which means that whenever we scry the workings of the Sheeda, the warlock-folk are targeted for a vengeance of dubious righteousness. They have their own ways of keeping watch on us, and they usually choose to move further away. But the Lord-Protector has commissioned a series of new villages these past few years. We're closer to their oldest settlements now than ever before, and they do not want to move."

Marvellous.

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
09:11 GMT -6

Luna glances around from the television as I as trot into the living room in equine form. The new… Newer living room has a surfeit of space even for a full family gathering, but she's opted to lie on the floor rather than move a settee into a direction which would allow her to watch the screen. Not that it's much of a sacrifice; with a cleaning staff and science fiction cleaning tools I opted for a decadently fluffy carpet, and it's easily soft enough for comfort.

"We do not believe that We understand the way in which the people of America choose their ruler."

"You and America."

I walk over to stand next to her, then begin the somewhat awkward process of lowering myself onto my belly. Yes, I could just pull in my legs and let Sinestro lower me, but I want practice in my pony form. Downdowndowndown and we have a successful landing! Tuck my legs in a bit…

"We suppose that it is progress that you are merely as ungainly as a drunken adolescent."

"Yes, yes it is." I smile and turn my head towards her. "But remember that every piece of mockery which you throw at me will be thrown back at you when you experiment with bipedalism."

"We are uncertain that We even want to change Our form so. It is less stable, lacks wings, struggles to utilise magic and lacks the physical strength which Our Earth Pony magic provides us."

"Basically all human technology is designed for hands. But, I'm not forcing you. If you don't think you're up to it then you don't think you're up to it."

"An obvious bait."

"Yeah." I smile. "Is it working?"

She rolls her eyes and looks away for a moment, before giving her mane a small toss.

"What do you mean by 'Us and America'?"

"I'm pretty sceptical about how many Americans actually understand how the whole thing works. Most of them probably get the basics, but the actual give and take and lobbying that actually happens to actually effect change… I'm dubious. I don't really understand all of it, and I've been involved at the highest level for over a year."

"Explain it to Us."

"O-. Well, I can't; as I said, I don't understand it. But if you want the basics… Equestria is an autocratic tyranny. When Celestia wants to make a law, change a policy or use executive authority, she doesn't need anyone's permission."

Luna raises her eyebrows.

I raise mine right back.

"Duocratic monarchy. And we are advised by numerous ponies."

"But they can't stop you. The only people who can gainsay the monarchs are the monarchs, which in practice will mean Celestia for a generation or two."

"Yes… Someone must be able to make a final decision."

I squeeze my eyes closed, quietly sniggering.

"Is that..? Not the case here?"

I open my eyes to see Luna regarding me quizzically.

"The problem with America, is that they tried to make the best system possible."

Her eyes narrow. "And that is bad?"

"If you try and make a perfect system as an imperfect being using imperfect beings, things are going to go 'bong' the moment you pull the activation lever. This right here?" I nod at the television as the presenters try to judge the likely outcome of the remaining primary votes. All the ways Knight could lose, basically. None of them are particularly likely. "This is a pre-election election."

"Yes, the two parties are deciding who will be their champion. We understand that much."

"Except that's not it. Each state votes on who they want each party's candidate to be. In some places only members of that party can vote, but in other places anyone can."

"Would the other party not simply try to vote for an unelectable ignoramus, to increase the attractiveness of their own candidate?"

It would explain a lot…

"They might, but there's a risk that person might get elected. The intent -as I understand it- is to increase the chance of getting a candidate with wider appeal. And of course there's an electoral college, which makes things more complicated."

She frowns. "If the system is so complex that it requires a college to teach people how to participate, then We may concur with your assessment."

"No, 'college' in this context means the votes in each state determine where the fixed number of votes of that state go, which are the votes that actually determine the outcome. So you vote for a vote in an election for an election. In fact, given that they also use electors, it's a vote for a vote in an election for a vote in an election."

"I suspect that it is more sensible that you make it sound."

"No, it's like Winter Wrap-Up: pointless, but people have been doing it this way for so long that people don't react rationally to you questioning it."

"What is your intent?"

"I'd like Horne to win, but Knight is such a… Leaf in the wind that I doubt he'll really make things difficult for me."

She nods, though she's frowning. "Did your interview advance his cause? Are those issues… Child-rearing and private armaments, important to the people of America?"

"Ahhh… Sort of. It's…" I take a moment to work out how to explain it. "Virtue signalling."

"Your meaning?"

"Humans are mind-blind. They can't hear one another's thoughts, or truly see the world from one another's perspective. All they can do is observe the behaviours of one another and attempt to decipher the thoughts and intent behind them. Virtue signalling is the process by which humans within a political community show one another what people in that community value. For a pony example: Applejack is honest even when it isn't in her interest to be, and all around her can see this and are reassured that honesty is something she truly values."

"We understand so far."

"And that lesson wouldn't be anything like as effective if she merely said that she valued honesty but constantly lied. She would be labelled as a hypocrite, and when an accusation of hypocrisy sticks it's usually considered a pretty solid refutation of an argument. Which is a fallacy; a person coming up short doesn't prove that they don't value a thing or that the thing shouldn't be valued… But I'm getting off track."

"A consequence of mind-blindness is that all we can judge are appearances. But if that's true, what is the difference between someone who acts in accordance with their deeply-felt beliefs and someone who puts on a show for popularity's sake?"

"Constancy."

I snort with amusement. "Yes. But people have such short memories. Gun ownership and sex education are… Flag issues. Signifying issues. In theory, they show an allegiance to a particular way of seeing the nation. In terms of practicality they're irrelevant. The most conservative president in history couldn't block children's access to sex-related material in a country like America. The most liberal couldn't prevent parents lecturing their children on abstinence-only. The most gun-hating president couldn't recall every gun in circulation and if a gun-lover repealed every restrictive ordinance hardly anyone would take advantage of it because the most practical guns are already legal. A handful of people would buy tanks and artillery pieces to show that they could, and that's about it. Whether Horne or Knight win the election, I doubt that either will change the law relating to either topic much, if at all. Even if they would like to." I snort quietly. "Even if they try to."

"But Knight is signalling that he has a virtue, a set of beliefs. A set that will cause particular demographics to vote for him, even though they'll get little out of it. A set that I don't believe that he actually has, but that won't matter because his new friends aren't going to look back at his previous positions, or will accept that he's seen the light. Knight goes to where people are and tries to fit in. Horne states his case -usually.. not very well- and tries to bring people to him."

"What would they do if they felt it necessary to take a position that none agreed with, as Celestia did when she freed Discord?"

"They fail to pass any legislation for the remainder of their term, and are never elected again."

Luna nods. "We think that We may see a flaw in this system."

"You and Socrates, Luna. You and Socrates."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
13:21 GMT -5

Morning brings the chatter of bird-analogues and the rapid culling of beetle-analogues by their snapping beaks. Winged insects don't appear to be a big feature here, with pollination-duty being taken by pseudo-hummingbirds and small climbing pseudo-reptiles, but fairly tanky-looking scavenger beetles are ducking and covering as they go about their carrion-seeking duties.

The journey down Columbia's road system was… Interesting. It was as if we were flicking between intersections and villages with the rest of the network appearing only as momentary blurs. At the same time, the rattle of the solid metal-rimmed wheels and the clopping of the horses' hooves were completely constant. Since this appears to require a highly trained speciality and doesn't work -or doesn't work safely- in a built-up area, I don't think it's got the sort of wider applications that Ted and I look for. But if we work out how to train a person as quickly as possible… Maybe.

"Checkmate."

And I've just lost the thirty-second consecutive chess game to Leonid.

"Can't we play something else instead?"

"You mean, like that board game you wrote? Or perhaps like that card game you made that comes from your universe, that no one else can understand?"

Abednego glances back.

"Games of skill are perfectly good pastimes, but I'll not have gambling in my cart."

"I don't gamble, Mister Abednego. But my grandparents taught me basic arithmetic using card games. I really don't see what the objective difference between chess pieces and cards is."

"People are wont to gamble on cards, even if you do not. People do not gamble on chess.

Leonid shakes his head. "In Russia, people gamble on chess games. More often on card games, but chess is very popular."

Abednego doesn't look impressed.

"How about Othello?"

"I know it not. Be it a gambling game?"

"W-. You can gamble on just about anything. You don't even need to gamble on poker."

"I be unconvinced-."

"Mister Abednego." Mr. Yao taps our guide on his right shoulder. "Can you give us some idea of how much further we have to go?"

"If the weather holds… Two more days' travel."

"And you're sure we can't just fly there?"

"Be you proof against maleficium most foul?"

"Highly resistant? Magic can't find me, and my spell eater amulets tend to nullify spells that try and affect me."

He frowns. "Magic cannot find you?"

"Scrying me or scrying my location won't work, even with a blood sample. Any spell which is supposed to guide itself to a target won't if I'm the target."

"That is a strange thing. Forgive my doubt, but such a claim is so at odds-."

"You can check. Even if you prove me wrong, it's a useful data-."

A red-white beam blasts through the cart just in front of me, burning into the ground beneath!

"Was that-?"

Abednego throws himself off the cart, hands reaching for his pistols as Mr Yao opens his mou-.

Ow! Need to start training with Justice League members who aren't Lanterns.

His mouth, and the sky vibrates. For a fraction of a second I see three… Shapes? And then they vanish again. I form a plasma initiator construct and launch it up into the sky as Leonid shoots upwards, flickers of fire leaping from his hands in all directions as he tries to find his target. No hits then I activate my construct, the activation energy of every gas molecule dropping to near-zero and causing an area about fifty metres in diameter to transmute into electrically charged plasma! Still nothing.

Ring, scan everything you can and extrapolate everything you can't. Also, armour.

Working.

And in the mean time, dismissing the plasma initiator and quietly cursing that we were right and we Lanterns did indeed lose access to our subspace storage, I send a torrent of orange filaments outwards in all directions. Five hundred metres, no contact. A kilometre… Nothing. A mile? Still nothing. Genuinely not there or exotic defence? Don't care. I turn filaments to blades and swing-.

My hands fall from my arms, my constructs failing at-

Call rings!

-once, a blade I can barely see leaping for my face!

A barely-heard sound, the noise of the very cogs of the celestial mechanisms of the universe rusting and grinding, the space in front of me flickering-.

And I see my first Sheeda as my blood-covered rings reach my arm-stumps, orange knives manifesting and stabbing-. And being turned to mist by the Sheeda's armour, fine, x-ionised knife.

A beam of red-white energy punches through my chest and vaporises my heart, along with a chunk of my torso.

Armour back punch with the knife restore chest bangs of pistols knife cuts armour draws blue-green blood. Knife evaporates Sheeda armour glistens crumble gauntlet evaporates.

Feed Us.

Sheeda armour grey thin pale face fears.

Feed Us.

Sheeda gasp fall back energy pulse parried pulls stone cracks Leonid flies through gone.

Gone.

Ow.

I set myself down on the ground somewhat unsteadily, planting my feet as my rings finish knitting my body back together. Looks like I-.

I raise my right hand to my face and feel a dozen minor cuts as they are erased by the orange light.

I took a beating I didn't even feel. And… I touch filaments to my severed hands and disintegrate them.

Mr Yao is singing…

Singing…

Singguh. Singing something hypnotic that I'm blocking with construct earmuffs. Abednego's dropped his pistols and has witch-signs glowing in each hand and Leonid is looking from Mr Yao to me… Looking for instructions?

"Mister Abednego, do you know what that was?"

"A Sheeda warrior."

"I-."

"I bid you wait. Once they leave, they seldom return at once, but I would not see a man dead for my laxity. If you are targeted, it be wise for me to share a little of what has befallen us."

 

[Mr Zoat]

1st May
13:26 GMT -5

"We do not live now in the lands our forefathers tilled at Melmoth's behest."

When Abednego made to open a crate containing what looked suspiciously like hardtack, I offered to cook something instead. My subspace food may be inaccessible but I'm perfectly capable of rebuilding food substances molecule by molecule. And since my personal lantern is sitting nearby in a case I'm not desperate to save power. But apparently his sister baked them with a hint of something called 'zynam', which is some sort of local herb. It sounded like he was looking forward to it.

Thank you, 16th century high church Anglicans. I dread to think what our food culture would be like if these people had won.

"That was…" He looks around. "Some way away, past the land we are now travelling toward. Melmoth had no Sheeda allies, but he had warbeasts and monsters of the Sheeda host who were bound to him. Some were large; great insects who could swallow men whole and men made of water who could melt flesh with a touch. Others were small; tiny man-shaped creatures with insect wings, who could spy upon us or control a man by touching his neck."

"Spine Riders. We met them. They actually stab their blades into the neck to take control of their victim's central nervous system via their spine. Did he have large maggots as well?"

I generate a construct, and Abednego nods in recognition.

"That be having the look of it. He had mortal men as well, but our forebears couldn't ken whether they served him willingly or were bound by spell or fairie. As you were told, it was not until the first generation of his children grew to manhood that they could rise against him, having learned of the magics he used to bind his creatures."

Mr. Yao nods. "They are the same spells you use to control your undead servants."

"Aye, that they are. There was something of the Sheeda in the beasts, as there is something of the Sheeda in each of us. I deny it not. We needed new fields and new homes. Labour was short and need was great. It seemed unseemly to them as to you, but it was needful."

Leonid frowns. "And now?"

"Now, 'tis custom. 'Tis normal. Each of us knows that we will labour our lives and labour our deaths 'til our bodies crumble to naught. 'Tis a service we willingly give to our descendants."

"There is no final rest?"

"Nay, there is. A corpse does not heal. In time, the witch-signs will not serve to bind the remains and the body collapses. They are buried again, and blessed, and they finally know peace."

"What is the orthodox church's view on magic?"

"It… It depends. Some things are allowed. Manipulating the physical world is usually accepted. But to speak with the dead-." He shakes his head. "No priest would allow it."

Abednego looks at him curiously. "You are a Christian, then?"

Leonid nods. "Yes. Of the Russian Orthodox church."

"Ah! I had thought that your entire company were pagans!"

"Christianity is the Earth's largest religion, if you don't mind the denomination."

"And do we puritans make up a goodly portion?"

Leonid looks at me.

"Between the intervening centuries and your use of magic, no one on Earth practises Christianity in quite the same way that you do, though violent conflict between Christian denominations is quite unusual."

He nods. "That is better. But we wander from the point. Many died before Melmoth was brought low and the survivors fled before his monstrous host. Our forebears fled until the beasts pursued them not, then cleared fields and built the first of our settlements. We had peace for a time, but something… Perhaps our magic fumblings, perhaps they merely sought prey… The beasts found us, and we fought. Once the harvest was done we moved again, hoping that we would escape them." He shakes his head. "We never did, but we learned enough of battle and magic that we could fight them off when they came."

He leans back.

"Magic… The youth of that day had known ought else, but to the elders it was strange. Perhaps ungodly. They were not ungrateful, but they saw it as a living link to Melmoth. Once our forebears had breathing room, a conclave was held, and an agreement wrought. Some magics would be accepted, some prohibited." He looks at Leonid. "Much as your priests accept some forms and bar others. Different forms of Christian worship draw the lines in different places."

"Alright, but those weren't beasts. They were proper humanoid Sheeda."

"Mayhap. Or mayhap a warlock-breed pushed things further than any man should. Melmoth had weapons he took with him into his exile. The most simple ones we-" He draws a pistol and holds it out for a moment before reholstering it. "-copied for ourselves, but many were beyond us, and deadly to those foolhardy enough to attempt to use them. But warlocks become as they are because they push their Sheeda blood further than we dare. 'Tis not unthinkable that they could make use of them."

"Do you think that is what we fought?"

"I have never seen a true Sheeda to compare it. Have you?"

"No. I know only one man who has ever seen them, and we didn't bring him with us."

"For what reason?"

"He's an insane criminal scientist who spent years in their homeland. His crimes are many. Bringing him wouldn't have been acceptable to a lot of people." I frown. "But I recognise the beam weapon. It was an entropic ray."

Mr Yao bows his head slightly. "Is that significant?"

I shrug. "It's not very common. It's not that powerful for its size and complexity; the only really unique feature it has is that it bypasses certain types of defence. The version I'm familiar with was developed by the Reach, and the Sheeda version looked completely different so I doubt they got it from them."

Leonid nods. "What does it do?"

"The Reach were trying to intimidate a species who occupied several systems, but they weren't getting very far; they didn't want to trade and were strongly culturally unified. Their weakness was theological. They were Source-worshippers who believed that only the Source could create or destroy energy. So the Reach developed a 'theologically significant' gun which destroyed energy, flushing it straight into the Bleed." I shrug. "When the Reach demonstrated it, it caused a species-wide religious panic. With their unity fatally undermined, the Reach were able to infiltrate them, and their mini-empire collapsed within a decade."

"How dangerous is it?"

"Considering how technologically complex it is, not very. It's more effective against thin but tough armour than it is against sheer mass. It can hurt people like you and if that's the standard Sheeda weapon I'll have to redesign my armour into something more ablative, but it's manageable."

Mr Yao nods. "I felt the power of my sound being drained away, but I could not tell why. Do you know why we could not detect them?"

"No. I mean, I'll know to check for an entropic defence of some kind, but those usually aren't that subtle. I'd guess that it was-" I look at Abednego for confirmation. "-magic?"

"Mayhap. I could not ken it well or true." He shakes his head. "We did not risk taking great quantities of Sheeda wargear with us. I know something of Sheeda creatures but little of the tools their masters used."

"All the more reason to make contact with the warlock-breed, then."