Changing Lanes (supplementary, Renegade option)
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Mr Zoat
Dedicated ragequitter
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18th August 2013
15:15 GMT
Hm.
One obvious drawback about getting an Apokoliptian warship is that I am not a God of Engineering. And goodness knows that the Amazons are no help in that direction. So unless I can find someone who is, there's a limit to what I can do with the Absolute Dominion. Repair it, certainly, restoring things to specifications is what Grayven the First did using gordanian labour. But-
I feel a predictable burst of envy as one of the E.D.F.'s cruisers… The Monte Carlo, just flies right up to a Reach listening post and slaughters the entire crew with precise bursts from its purple death rays. Didn't even show up on their sensors. Unless they were faking, which is possible. It sounds like Reach people are pretty fanatical on those few occasions when it would matter.
I aim the Absolute Dominion's main gun at the Reach fleet I caught undergoing repairs on the opposite side of the system. Normally they'd be outside of engagement range, but… When your gun fires faster than light on its own… Strike Hard, Strike True
A battlecruiser disintegrates, and the docking frame it was resting in loses about a third of its mass. What's left starts spinning and shattering, collapsing in a few moments as the Absolute Dominion realigns and targets its nearest neighbour. Debris is mostly caught by the shields of the other frames and ships, but a few smaller vessels are hit by larger fuel-carrying fragments and are crippled or consumed.
"Grayven to Spider. What news?"
"The intelligence briefing was correct. The people here are fully acculturated, but they have no particular resistance to telepathy. Should I tell the genomorphs to give them new personalities?"
I shrug to myself as another docking cradle bursts, along with its cargo. No visual between ground and fleet, of course. Mr. Near nearly rolled his eyes at the very idea, though his practical argument that a transmission with more data would be more easily detected eventually won the day. Normally I'd hate the idea of mentally scrubbing people like that, but they won't be able to function without their Reach masters unless we do. And I know what trying to avoid executing her Citizens is doing to Diana. Sometimes you just can't help people in the way you'd like to help them.
"Not up to us. Offer that service to the Controllers. If they want it, they can negotiate with the genomorphs themselves."
"M."
"Any of those Scarabs around?"
"There was. I can report that when the Scarab is inactive the host is no more resilient than a normal member of their species. Also, Scarabs appear to be 'alive' for the purpose of purple death rays."
I nod. "Worth knowing. Good work."
I hear a very deliberate… Not a sigh, but a slow intake of breath before the channel disconnects. He reprogrammed the pickup just so I'd hear that. The sheer amount of work he's prepared to put in to delivering a mild near-insult…
Ah? Looks like that was a fuel hauler. Explosions in space aren't a big deal, not unless things are right next to each other and the explosion is very radioactive or exotic. Still a blow to them-.
Huh.
The ships near the one that just exploded are… Disintegrating.
Ah…
And so are the ones a little further away. That doesn't chime with anything I know about space warfare. The only thing that comes to mind is nanotech, but that wouldn't act so fast.
Log and report, I guess. I-.
Ping.
Of course they do. But I suppose that there's no sense passing up an opportunity to spread misinformation. Put them on.
Ping.
The holographic image of a Reach Negotiator appears before my command throne. Due to the fragile ego of Other Grayven, the Negotiator appears both smaller than she is in reality and below me, meaning that she has to look up while I remain sitting down. Something about the system replicates the effect on the communication system of anyone who sends messages to me. You Are Beneath Me
It's so petty that I smile every time I use it.
I steeple my fingers and wait patiently as the last battlecruiser dies.
"Lord Grayven. I was under the impression that you had left."
I smile broadly, something that immediately makes her uncertain. Old Grayven never did that, I bet. "I always have time for old friends."
"You appear to be attacking one of our research stations."
"Yeah. Using brains as computers? I honestly thought that your command of electronics was better than that."
"Ping."
"We find them suitably efficacious."
"Might need to find a new solution now."
"That was hardly our only production facility."
My smile broadens to manic levels. "I know! Your people are marvellously industrious." I shake my head. "I wouldn't expect to hear from their garrisons again. I haven't read the reports yet, so I can't give you feedback…"
"You do realise that will impede our ability to fight the Controllers' operatives far more than it will impede our ability to fight you."
"Yes? Oh! Sorry. I don't care about you."
"You did seem to care when you launched your invasion."
I shrug. "Had a bit of a rethink. Frankly, Vega had more to offer me, and I can probably just trade for the parts of the Reach that I actually want from the Controllers after they win. Which will be easier now that they aren't spitting their attention between you and me."
"You've come to terms."
"I got out of my own way. Thank you for assisting with that personal breakthrough."
"With the Controllers." She considers me for a moment. "You've changed."
"If we ever meet, I'll give you a wooden spoon."
She blinks. "What?"
I shake my head, waving my right hand dismissively. "Cultural reference. A prize of no great value, usually awarded for last place or to someone who got no points." I lean forwards slightly. "So, yeah. I'm not trying to take and hold your territory for myself, just degrade your war fighting capacity for someone else. And since I don't need to prove myself to anyone, I'm happy to just fly from target to target annihilating them as I go."
Mother Box, message Kara would you?
Ping.
"Or send someone else on my behalf."
The Negotiator's eyes widen as the alarms in the room she's in start to go off.
"You're fortunate; the flagship of the Kryptonian Stellar Navy hasn't seen action -barring a minor policing action- for over a century." She turns to flee… Too late, I suspect. "I'll send the spoon to your next of kin!"
The hologram shuts down and I sit back, pleased.
"Has Mister Near evacuated?"
"Ping."
"Good show. Then let's head back to Maltus and find out what else they want us doing."
15:15 GMT
Hm.
One obvious drawback about getting an Apokoliptian warship is that I am not a God of Engineering. And goodness knows that the Amazons are no help in that direction. So unless I can find someone who is, there's a limit to what I can do with the Absolute Dominion. Repair it, certainly, restoring things to specifications is what Grayven the First did using gordanian labour. But-
I feel a predictable burst of envy as one of the E.D.F.'s cruisers… The Monte Carlo, just flies right up to a Reach listening post and slaughters the entire crew with precise bursts from its purple death rays. Didn't even show up on their sensors. Unless they were faking, which is possible. It sounds like Reach people are pretty fanatical on those few occasions when it would matter.
I aim the Absolute Dominion's main gun at the Reach fleet I caught undergoing repairs on the opposite side of the system. Normally they'd be outside of engagement range, but… When your gun fires faster than light on its own… Strike Hard, Strike True
A battlecruiser disintegrates, and the docking frame it was resting in loses about a third of its mass. What's left starts spinning and shattering, collapsing in a few moments as the Absolute Dominion realigns and targets its nearest neighbour. Debris is mostly caught by the shields of the other frames and ships, but a few smaller vessels are hit by larger fuel-carrying fragments and are crippled or consumed.
"Grayven to Spider. What news?"
"The intelligence briefing was correct. The people here are fully acculturated, but they have no particular resistance to telepathy. Should I tell the genomorphs to give them new personalities?"
I shrug to myself as another docking cradle bursts, along with its cargo. No visual between ground and fleet, of course. Mr. Near nearly rolled his eyes at the very idea, though his practical argument that a transmission with more data would be more easily detected eventually won the day. Normally I'd hate the idea of mentally scrubbing people like that, but they won't be able to function without their Reach masters unless we do. And I know what trying to avoid executing her Citizens is doing to Diana. Sometimes you just can't help people in the way you'd like to help them.
"Not up to us. Offer that service to the Controllers. If they want it, they can negotiate with the genomorphs themselves."
"M."
"Any of those Scarabs around?"
"There was. I can report that when the Scarab is inactive the host is no more resilient than a normal member of their species. Also, Scarabs appear to be 'alive' for the purpose of purple death rays."
I nod. "Worth knowing. Good work."
I hear a very deliberate… Not a sigh, but a slow intake of breath before the channel disconnects. He reprogrammed the pickup just so I'd hear that. The sheer amount of work he's prepared to put in to delivering a mild near-insult…
Ah? Looks like that was a fuel hauler. Explosions in space aren't a big deal, not unless things are right next to each other and the explosion is very radioactive or exotic. Still a blow to them-.
Huh.
The ships near the one that just exploded are… Disintegrating.
Ah…
And so are the ones a little further away. That doesn't chime with anything I know about space warfare. The only thing that comes to mind is nanotech, but that wouldn't act so fast.
Log and report, I guess. I-.
Ping.
Of course they do. But I suppose that there's no sense passing up an opportunity to spread misinformation. Put them on.
Ping.
The holographic image of a Reach Negotiator appears before my command throne. Due to the fragile ego of Other Grayven, the Negotiator appears both smaller than she is in reality and below me, meaning that she has to look up while I remain sitting down. Something about the system replicates the effect on the communication system of anyone who sends messages to me. You Are Beneath Me
It's so petty that I smile every time I use it.
I steeple my fingers and wait patiently as the last battlecruiser dies.
"Lord Grayven. I was under the impression that you had left."
I smile broadly, something that immediately makes her uncertain. Old Grayven never did that, I bet. "I always have time for old friends."
"You appear to be attacking one of our research stations."
"Yeah. Using brains as computers? I honestly thought that your command of electronics was better than that."
"Ping."
"We find them suitably efficacious."
"Might need to find a new solution now."
"That was hardly our only production facility."
My smile broadens to manic levels. "I know! Your people are marvellously industrious." I shake my head. "I wouldn't expect to hear from their garrisons again. I haven't read the reports yet, so I can't give you feedback…"
"You do realise that will impede our ability to fight the Controllers' operatives far more than it will impede our ability to fight you."
"Yes? Oh! Sorry. I don't care about you."
"You did seem to care when you launched your invasion."
I shrug. "Had a bit of a rethink. Frankly, Vega had more to offer me, and I can probably just trade for the parts of the Reach that I actually want from the Controllers after they win. Which will be easier now that they aren't spitting their attention between you and me."
"You've come to terms."
"I got out of my own way. Thank you for assisting with that personal breakthrough."
"With the Controllers." She considers me for a moment. "You've changed."
"If we ever meet, I'll give you a wooden spoon."
She blinks. "What?"
I shake my head, waving my right hand dismissively. "Cultural reference. A prize of no great value, usually awarded for last place or to someone who got no points." I lean forwards slightly. "So, yeah. I'm not trying to take and hold your territory for myself, just degrade your war fighting capacity for someone else. And since I don't need to prove myself to anyone, I'm happy to just fly from target to target annihilating them as I go."
Mother Box, message Kara would you?
Ping.
"Or send someone else on my behalf."
The Negotiator's eyes widen as the alarms in the room she's in start to go off.
"You're fortunate; the flagship of the Kryptonian Stellar Navy hasn't seen action -barring a minor policing action- for over a century." She turns to flee… Too late, I suspect. "I'll send the spoon to your next of kin!"
The hologram shuts down and I sit back, pleased.
"Has Mister Near evacuated?"
"Ping."
"Good show. Then let's head back to Maltus and find out what else they want us doing."
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