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

12th July
11:08 GMT

Below us Tamaran is enshrouded by night. Near the horizon, dawn is just reaching a city which -assuming the pre-war records I took from Rashashoon are still accurate- is called Komandus. Another city one half a continent east is called Kysarr. That used to be a major mining area, though from the limited artificial lighting and power sources I can see I imagine that its significance has been reduced somewhat. Tamaran was feudal, with the rulers of each region bearing the title prince or princess and the planet's ruler being king or queen and having their seat in Tamarus.

Ooooh.

"Felicity, do you speak any Tamaranean languages?"

"Tamaran has been isolated since before I was born. I know only the commonly spoken languages of Vega." Oh, rats. I can hardly leave her somewhere where she can't speak-. "Though, I would be surprised if at least some of them could not speak Gratch. It is the main language of Okaara and the Citadel Empire. Most people with any history of spacefaring know it."

"Oh good. I was worried for a moment."

"You did not think they would understand you?"

"I was concerned that they might not understand you. You might be here for some time… Possibly the rest of your natural life. I mean, I'd have made you a translator, but that's hardly practical-."

"Master." She turns her head, starting very slightly as her whole body turns in place. "I speak eight languages fluently. I am certain that I would pick up theirs soon enough."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to insult-."

"You are silly. I am not offended. It is… Strange, that you are so considerate."

Instinctively, I take a look at her feelings in an attempt to divine what she's used to. A moment later I turn my empathic vision down again. I know I.. shouldn't be surprised, but… And I have… Seen worse. Her owner appears to have at least regarded her as somewhat valuable property. What was the line from God, the Devil and Bob? It's not about whether you're a good person according to some sort of absolute standard, but whether you're better than the situation tries to make you. Passing on a softer punch. Of course, her owner was killed by the Omega Men when they overran the Citadel base on Slagg anyway…

Still. I float a little closer and hold out my right hand. "Going down?"

I hear her giggle as she reaches out with her right. Right, where exactly to go? Ideally, somewhere somewhat isolated. But with people who are awake. And not too many people. I don't want word of my arrival to spread too quickly and I don't want to scare people beyond my ability to talk down. Gosh, there are no data networks at all down there... Ah! There we go, a small farm. Older couple, their daughter and her infant son. Looks like the baby is restless. Perfect.

Transition.

The ground gives slightly under the weight of my armour. Careful environmental care -and then less careful abandonment as their population contracted- means that much of Tamaran's landmasses are covered in lush plant life. And with the population able to fly, roads were only really popular for heavy goods transportation. We're about twenty metres from the house, and with my armour's auditory pickups turned up I can hear the child's mother singing a lullaby.

Environmental shield lights to dim, and subspace the helmet. I take a moment to breathe in the air. Raggashoon was a city. The only change from an Earth city was the replacement of petrochemical fumes with ozone. Out here, I can hear the chirping of the tiny lemur-like creatures who fulfil the evolutionary niche that on Earth is held by mice. It's early in the growing season and breathing in I can smell the pollen. Slightly… Gingery? It also has that deep-country darkness that comes from being a very long way away from any sort of sizeable settlement. The windows in the house are only illuminated by a well-worn heat to light converter, probably a hold over from Tamaran's more technologically advanced past.

"Would you..? Mind..?"

Felicity pulls slightly at the front of her armour-. Right. I send it to subspace, then release her hand. She blinks in gratitude, then stretches, puffing out her fur in an attempt to make it lie more comfortably against her skin. Arms held up over her head she looks at me and… Bends further, pushing out her chest in a way that emphasises her-.

I look away, and she giggles.

"Follow me, if you please."

I start across the sparsely forested field at a march. From the looks of it they're cutting for wood in rotation, letting trees grow, then cutting an area down and replanting. Sustainable arboriculture. The bit we're walking through has been replanted recently, meaning that the small trees are easy to avoid and the room they've been allotted to grow gives me a clear walkway. I'm not being silent, but the lack of any reaction from the house rather implies to me that they're assuming that the noise is being made by a local animal.

I could announce myself, but I don't really want to make a lot of noise and wake the rest of the house if I can avoid it. Plus it looks like the baby has just returned to sleep… I don’t think I'm ever going to not find meeting people for the first time awkward.

As I get closer, the baby's mother looks up. She's heard me and the sound stands out, but she's not worried yet. My records on Tamaranean social custom don't really have much to say about this sort of meeting. They are -or at least were- such a direct people that a social formula for this sort of meeting was never required. Best fit would be…

I step more heavily, intentionally making more noise in a way which clearly suggests bipedal locomotion. Reach the door, I knock firmly. Not loudly, but enough to make plain that someone outside would like to get in.

"A moment!"

The woman inside walks out of the kitchen area into what appears to be the nursery, laying her offspring down in.. a crib that could have come from a maternity shop on Earth. A rustic one rather than a chain, but it's still familiar. One humanoid using an object that exists in a similar fashion in the culture of another. Agh, I'm a cultural contaminant!

Once the baby is tucked in, she turns around and walks back into the kitchen… Picking up the iron poker from the fire and holding it in her left hand before opening the door slightly with her right. The way the door swings makes it impossible for me to see the poker with my eyes.

"Good evening, marm."

Her solid green eyes widen slightly as she looks over my armour, but again there's no fear response. I'm a little surprised. Tamaraneans never really bothered with powered exoskeletons themselves but I'm certain that they're familiar with the concept. I mean, I'm clearly not a Gordanian or a Citadelian but I'd have thought that a heavily armoured alien turning up-.

When it's turned down, my environmental shield glows more around my skin than my clothing. It's late and there isn't much other light. My skin looks orange and she wouldn't be able to see my eyes clearly. She thinks I'm Tamaranean.

"Is something wrong? Do we need to move the archive?"

"I'm sorry, I believe that you may have mistaken me for someone else."

"You're not-?" She frowns. "If you're not from the royal guard, where did you get that armour?"

"I.. built it.. myself. I'm sorry, can we start this conversation again?"

She peers up at me. "Who are you?"

"My name is-." Ring, play the recording.

"Paul."

Thank you. "And I'm not from this planet. Or, indeed, Vega. I'm actually from a planet called-."

"Earth. You're from Earth. You're Human."

…

What?

"Um. How do you.. know.. that..?"

She steps back, opening the door more widely. "I think you had best come inside. If you are anything like the last Human to come here then you will have many questions."

 

12th July
11:19 GMT

Felicity and I sit at the kitchen table, our armour safely stowed in subspace. The light is still dim, and we're all trying to keep our voices down. Felicity's eyes appear to have a similar facility for low light vision as an actual Cat's, and Tamaraneans see further into the red part of the spectrum than Humans. The ring lets me see easily in most conditions so I'm not bothered by it either.

Erraia -our hostess- pours herself a drink of.. something that looks like rainbow sludge but the ring says is a mild stimulant. For a Tamaranean at least. For a Human, drinking it wouldn't be a good idea. She takes a sip, then sits down opposite us.

"Where would you like to begin?"

"How do you know my species? I don’t.. think any Tamaranean has ever been to Earth, and I'd be surprised if any Human had ever come here. Are you..? Do you collect records, and you got some from someone who'd been to Earth?"

"Not at all. I learned of Earth when I became an archivist, but knowledge of your people came from a man of your world."

"Aaaahahahahah!" I squeeze my eyes shut, bow my head slightly and cover my face with my right hand.

Erraia's face goes slightly blank, then she looks at Felicity. "Did I say something amusing?"

"No. Sorry, sorry." I move my hand aside and look at her. "It's just… Human stories about this sort of thing go.. one way. I'm just… There aren't a bunch of Tamaranean-Human hybrids running around the place, are there? I didn't pick up any on the way in but the ring might just have assumed that they were within the normal range of Tamaranean genetic variation."

"I…" She looks a little lost. "Not to my knowledge? He did not spend a great deal of time in this part of the world. That is a.. rather strange thing to ask."

"Sorry, it's just… No one on Rashashoon recognised my species, then I go to the planet inhabited by… Most Tamaraneans are -by Human standards- extremely attractive-"

"Thank you?"

"-whereas Gordanians, Citadelians and Okaarans… Aren't. So, that implied that rather than stop off at the first planet in Vega, he came right… Ah, sorry, never mind. Aaah… I… Only know of one Human who wasn't a Green Lantern to have left our system, so if the man who came here was called 'Adam Blake', I can-."

Erraia's face lights up. Metaphorically. "You know of him? He said that he was only a minor hero amongst your people."

It actually..? I read all of Professor Zackro's surviving notes about his abilities early on during my research archive binge. He naturally had telepathy and telekinesis, but the professor was able to salvage various parts from the ships and weapons of aliens he fought to create what was probably Earth's first interstellar starship. His notes implied that it acted as a telekinetic enhancer, turning his normal field into something that could generate spatial distortions powerful enough to fly to other star systems by. A similar system could be used by the Martians if I could either get access to the ship or the professor's full records. If they survive, they were somewhere where I couldn't find them.

"I have an.. interest in other Humans with unusual abilities. His were well documented."

"He came here about forty years ago. He lived in the capital for a number of years, and participated in our war against the Citadel. If.. you were hoping to meet him, I am sorry. As far as anyone knows he was killed during the fighting."

I nod. "Which brings me to the actual reason for my visit. What requirements did the Citadel place on Tamaran after your people lost the war?"

"We are forbidden from having any orbital facilities or spacecraft. Those we had which were not destroyed were seized after our defeat. There are limits placed on our industrial infrastructure and we must pay them sums of valuable materials each year… A heavy burden, but one which we could live under. In theory."

"And in practice?"

"Our world belongs to the Gordanians above us. They enforce the limits on our infrastructure by destroying from orbit everything that looks as if it may be a violation. We lost.. so much of our knowledge base when they decided to destroy our electronic communication and data networks. Every so often, they land and.. kill or enslave anyone unfortunate enough to be near to them. And there is nothing we can do."

"You said that you are an archivist?"

"My job is to hide, preserve and if possible teach what scientific and technical knowledge we have. Everything is stored in low-emission formats or in hard copy to minimise the chance of the Gordanians being able to detect it."

"This…" I look around. "Isn't a school."

"The Gordanians target centres of education. When the war ended we had schools, universities… They are gone. We once had a world-spanning magnetic levitation rail network. No longer. Now, we transport goods by animal-drawn carts, or if we are very lucky by canal. They are reducing us to the level of civilisation that our records show they permit the Karnans-" Her eyes go to Felicity for a moment. "-to have."

Felicity wrinkles her nose. "I do not remember Karna. I was taken as a slave when I was very young."

"Is it.. one clan up there, or do they rotate?"

"No clan would accept sharing us with another. Our records from the war show that the Tearing Bite clan distinguished themselves in combat, and so were rewarded with.. us."

"Do you know what resources the clan has, other than what is in orbit at the moment?"

Erraia shakes her head. "No. I have some records from the war, but there is no way for us to know if they have built more ships or lost them since then."

"Do you know where the princesses Koriand'r and Komand'r are?"

She shrugs. "Okaara, I believe. As is their brother, Prince Ryand'r. Young nobles of our society are often sent there to receive an education of a sort we are no longer able to give." She frowns, something occurring to her. "How did you know their names?"

"I met a few Okaarans on Rashashoon. I've been trying to gather as much information as possible."

Completely true. Erraia nods, apparently accepting it as the whole truth. "What is your intention here?"

I hold my hands out towards her. "Do you recognise this sigil?" She studies it for a moment, then shakes her head. I lower my hands. "Then have you heard of the Beast of Okaara?"

"I have not, but Okaaran culture has not been the focus of my studies."

"Ah. Well, simple version: he's got a Central Power Battery and he's at least part of the reason why Vega is as bad as it is. I'm here for him, but I also consider fixing Vega to be partly my responsibility."

"Fix..?" She looks at me like I'm a crazy person. "At the height of our power, Tamaran could not even maintain its independence. I have seen the records of what Adam Blake could do. It was not sufficient for the task."

"Ensuring Tamaran's safety is simple enough. If I get rid of the Gordanians in system, I can build about fifty different types of interdiction field generators and long range teleportation jammers. Then it would take… About three hundred years for the Citadel to send anyone here. Even the Psions would struggle to break through without knowing exactly what was creating the problem. That would give me more than enough time to rearm Tamaran, beat the Beast… Or whatever else the situation requires."

"That… Sounds like something that.. might work. Can you..? Defeat them?"

"Yes, but I'm concerned about the Tamaraneans on board the station. While I appreciate that it may not be possible, I'd like to free them if at all possible. I'd also.. prefer not to kill the Gordanians if I can avoid it."

She frowns. "Why? They are loathsome marauders who have murdered-."

"I know. But I'm not." I frown for a moment. What's the best way..? "Tell me, do you have connections to anyone in the higher levels of your government?"

 

12th July
19:57 GMT

…to spend time checking up on what Amalak and Jarko are doing. Civilisations don't spring up overnight, and newly emergent states tend not to be all that civilised. Slavery is legal in both places, though Amalak lets slaves acquired by his organisation work off their debt and the people of Asryx tend to use enslavement as a criminal punishment. Certainly, their holdings aren't dependent on the institution.

The self-actualisation part of the hierarchy has gotten a lot more complicated, lately. But I.. suppose that's the point. My desires at this stage are so sophisticated that I need to think about this matter in detail. On Rashashoon I wasn't all that concerned about what might happen if all the pirates died. Now, I'm invested. And… Tamaran is a place I had always intended to help out.

And… There's something..? There's something… Orange on this planet. And I don’t mean the locals. I can feel a focus of the orange light… In the capital, I think? I try focusing harder-.

"Master? What are you doing?"

I open my eyes, seeing once again the antechamber into which our hostess deposited us before heading further inside the principality's palace. Archivists are well respected for their work and their learning, so it wasn't surprising that Erraia would have a contact here.

"The simple answer is, thinking."

She tilts her head slightly to the side from where she lounges decorously on a settee. "Is there a complex answer?"

"Certainly." I lift my hands from where they rest upon my knees and point the sigils of the rings towards her. "These are orange power rings. They grant me great power, but constantly try to twist my mind more towards avarice. I found that by reflecting upon and accepting my desires, I could.. ignore the adverse affects they can induce. So… That's what I was doing."

Her right ear flicks. "Have you decided that you want anything in particular?"

"No… It was more working out how best to get what I want. Though something is impinging on my awareness from Tamar-" I become aware of Erraia coming in our direction, along with a couple of soldiers and a man who I judge by the manner of his dress to be a noble of some sort. "-us."

Felicity appears to have heard them as well, her head turning in the direction of their faint footfalls as she comes up to a crouch. I stand, medium armour appearing from subspace. Full on power armour is a bit much for what I hope will be a polite meeting with the local aristocracy, but I need something a bit dressy. And non-grey. After a moment's thought I add an orange robe with grey sigils as decoration. The whole ensemble covers far more of me than Tamaranean clothing would… But I don't think I'd be comfortable wearing no armour at all.

The door opens, one of the soldiers pushing it wide before entering. She's wearing.. semi-reasonable body armour. It reminds me of Eldar mesh armour, tough but pliant material reinforced with hard plates in places where it doesn't need to flex but does need to protect a vital organ. Her arms are bare, and there's a small pistol and a short sword on her belt. She gives Felicity a perfunctory once over before turning her attention to me. I'm sure that she sees my armour… Not sure that she'd recognise power rings for what they are. The people of Rashashoon must hear about Green Lanterns from their piratical guests all the time, but Tamaran is a good distance further inside Vega.

Apparently deciding that I'm not an immediate threat, she steps aside from the door and allows her charge entry. A Tamaranean man, youngish looking, with a short mullet of curly brown hair. His dress is more traditional: blue short shorts, blue decorative necklace and a couple of blue straps. It doesn't take a great deal of effort for my empathic vision to show the clear bonds of love between the two of them. They've been together as a couple for a while. The young man looks at me with undisguised curiosity, then starts. Why..? The sigil, he saw the sigil.

"The Beast…"

"No, sir, I am not The Beast." Erraia walks in behind him, along with the slightly older woman who is the palace archivist. "We simply happen to use the same power source. May I ask how you know of him?"

He nods. "I was trained on Okaara. My instructor told me of the stories concerning the Forbidden Forest of Weeds and the monster that dwells there. I never expected to actually meet him."

"You still haven't, and if you're fortunate then you never will." I frown. "And if I'm fortunate, you never will."

He nods again, then walks closer to me. "I am Prince Karras of Kalapatt, son of Prince Regent Tharras and Princess Regent Salja."

I perform a very short bow. "My name is-." Ring.

"Paul."

"And my title is Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four. My companion-" I turn my head towards Felicity, holding out my right hand to indicate her. "-is Felicity of Karna."

Better than Felicity of Slagg.

Karras stops within easy arm's reach and puts his hands on my shoulders. "I bid you both welcome to my home."

"Thank you. It's nice to be-."

He leans forwards and kisses me on the lips. What? I-? Oh! Right, they can learn -he pulls away- languages like that, can't they? Probably a diplomatic thing.

He blinks, his eyes turned away for a moment. "English? It is… Extraordinarily irregular."

"It uses so many different sets of grapheme/phoneme correspondence rules that it actually retards the mental development of anyone who learns it." I shrug. "Sorry."

"It…" He raises his right hand to his forehead. "May take some adjusting to."

"The written version is worse. But… To business?"

He nods, turning slightly to the side to include the two archivists in our huddle. "I can introduce you to King Myand'r. The only observatory on Tamaran capable of monitoring the Gordanian fleet to any worthwhile degree is situated near Tamarus. And… A decision on whether or not to accept your aid would have to be made by him."

"Thank you. You..? Haven't seen my emblem anywhere else, have you?"

"Aside from the texts describing The Beast on Okaara, no. Why do you ask?"

"I already confronted one of The Beast's slaves near my own homeworld. I know that he's had them out looking for me. I-."

"Could he find you here?"

"Yes, but not easily. One of his slaves would have to.. see me, fairly close up. I ask because there's something marked by the orange light in Tamarus. If it's one of the slaves, I don't want to blunder into its line of sight."

"His slaves are..? Glowing orange shades, yes?" I nod. "Nothing like that has been seen in Tamarus. But is there not some risk that he could send one here?"

"Yes. That's why I want to get this done quickly. I plan on fighting him in less than twenty days and I want this dealt with well before then."

"I am.. not certain what help Tamaran can offer you. The few weapons we have that would be effective-."

"Not a problem. Psion weaponry aside, I'm not worried about the Gordanians' ability to hurt me. I'm more concerned about the Tamaraneans they're holding on the station."

"You-? How powerful.. are you?"

"Very." I rise slightly into the air, construct armour appearing around me. "Power rings were designed to lift mortals to the level of immortals, and I've got rather good with them. So if you have no other pressing business, let's go and see the king."

 

12th July
20:16 GMT

"…fascinating way to travel." Prince Karras looks around to get his bearings.

We're standing on a covered landing area built into the outer walls of the royal palace in Tamarus. I left Felicity back with the Archivists. Hopefully they can learn something from each other. With every member of the species able to fly, the Tamaraneans' larger buildings have the same curious 'unlevelled' design I'm used to seeing in Atlantean structures. Since it's as easy to enter by the top floor as the bottom floor, why focus on ground-level entrances? The walls and floor around us are grey… Stone? Brick? Difficult to say. This place was almost certainly built before the technological decay set in, so it's quite possible that the material used was synthetic rather than quarried. Karras waves at the guards on duty. One nods and turns to leave, presumably to announce his arrival. I scan-.

I charge through the weak barricade erected by these so-called 'Warlords', their weapons-.

I pull back, blinking in surprise. I haven't.. felt anything like that since… January, when I tried linking up with the Ophidian.

"Orange Lantern?" Prince Karras looks at me with concern. "Are you well?"

"Are you.. sure there's nothing orange here?"

"We are.. all orange. But-" He shakes his head. "-nothing bearing your symbol."

Heck, if there's a Construct Lantern here… Did Larfleeze have any really small ones? No, that isn't it; the creature I saw was taller than the Okaarans. Stronger, too. And Larfleeze isn't about delayed gratification. If one of his people were here, we'd all know about it.

"Right. If you're sure." I'm going to be keeping an eye out, mind. "What do we have to do to meet the King?"

He shrugs. "Simply travel to the audience chamber. He will come to us when he is ready."

"Right then." I nod. "Lead the way."

He strides into the entry chamber beyond the landing platform and then rises off the floor. "This way. I have been here many times." He drops down a hole in the floor, heading deeper into the building.

I instruct the ring to guide me after him, then block out my exterior and listen to the call of the orange light. Larfleeze shouldn't be able to detect me or the rings I'm wearing… I seem to remember from the comics that Larfleeze's rings were people that he assimilated. Or… Was that just Glomulus? Larfleeze is certainly avaricious enough to create new rings… But he doesn't strike me as the sort who would have the focus or discipline.

I reach out for the orange light again.

I charge through the weak barricade erected by these so-called 'Warlords', their weapons glancing harmlessly off my armour. No reason not to warm up on these weaklings before I do what none have dared before me: assail the lair of the infamous Beast of Okaara. Once I have taken his head, none will overlook me again!

One of his challengers. A warrior seeking notoriety. I reach out for my subspace pocket, to the link between these rings and my personal lantern.

Ophidian? Do you recognise it?

His name was Ceebiss, my Agent. One of many, he fought the Gnat and was consumed.

And he's a ring now?

Sometimes. Sometimes the Gnat would bring him out and ride around on him. Or try to eat him.

Hm. Alright, I knew that I called rings away from Okaara, but… I don’t feel anyone wearing it. Orange rings don't go without wearers. If… Someone here drew it here… Why aren't they wearing it? I mean, it's a ring. Even if they called it but.. somehow didn't feel compelled by it, someone would put it on as jewellery. Wouldn't they? I barely ever take mine off now and I'm as resistant to orange light intoxication as it's possible to be.

This bears further investigation.

"Here. You should take a seat while we wait."

Aside from the ring… Ophidian, can Larfleeze feel it here?

Perhaps. But it slumbers with no bearer. It will not impinge upon his mind unless someone wears it.

Lucky escape for Tamaran.

"Orange Lantern?"

I open my eyes. We're in… It's not a large room, though it is richly appointed. A living room, decorated with soft furnishings and warm colours. Paintings of richly dressed Tamaraneans hang from the walls and two people… Servants? Lurk at the walls near the door. Karras is already sitting, leaning back against the arm of a settee. He looks a little concerned.

"Are you well?"

"Just in case it ever comes up, if you see a ring like the ones I wear, do not under any circumstances put it on."

"I… Will remember your warning. Why do you-?"

"There's a ring here. If someone puts it on, it forms a link to the orange light and calls in the Beast."

He nods in clear understanding. "And that would be bad."

"Very bad."

"You said that you intend to fight him. Would… It help if he were lured into a position from which he could be ambushed?"

"Not until I've consulted everyone who might know something about him and built any weapon that might help. And it will be just as easy to attack him in his home as it would anywhere else. I wouldn't want anyone else caught in the crossfire."

"If these rings are as powerful as you say, would it not aid you to have another bearer by your side? I would-."

"No. It took me… I learned how to fight with them quickly because I was familiar with what they could do beforehand. Learning to think clearly took longer, and in Lantern versus Lantern combat thinking clearly is essential. I want to fight Larfleeze soon. I don't want to have to wait until someone else is trained to the point where they can meaningfully help."

I descend to the floor and walk over to the chair opposite him. A pulse of empathic vision shows people approaching as I sit. Some sort of woven material… I think the thread comes from an animal rather than being from a plant or being synthetic.

"Still, I'm curious about what sort of person could call a ring-."

The door opens and a powerfully built and.. rather hairy man walks through. Like Karras, he hasn't bothered with much in the way of clothing. Shorts, boots and.. some sort of weird headdress which is supported by a gravity-defying thatch of dull red hair. His beard is plaited and stretches down to his navel, not quite merging with the thick hair covering his chest. And arms.

"I did not take the ring, alien, because I recognised that no matter what it whispered to me in the dark of the night nothing good would bear the sigil of the Beast of Okaara."

A flash of empathic vision-.

We know this one, my Agent.

Our surroundings drop away, the room, Karras, the others following this man… All disappear as the orange lines of the Honden of Avarice shine.

We have heard his words.

I… Remember.

My father, my brothers, my mother and now my daughters too? No, I will not accept this! I will find some way to take back from the Citadel everything it has taken from me!

The room snaps back into being as I stand.

"King Myand'r of Tamaran. When did the Citadel take your daughters?"

 

12th July
20:21 GMT

A tiny flicker of yellow from Myand'r, and I see… Months. I mean, if he knew back in January… Or longer? I don't remember how long they held her in the comics… Or the exact circumstances… The daughters I see in him are young women, certainly older than the -ugh- Teen Titans animated series versions. And that's the version I know best, isn't it? Flying around for a bit with Animal 'remember that you're married' Man didn't make anything like as much of an impression.

"Nonsense. My daughters -and my son- are on Okaara, learning the-."

"Your majesty, lying to an empath is a very bad idea. I can clearly see the shape of your fears."

Karras sits up slightly, frowning. "Myand'r? Is that true?"

The king's fists clench, breath hissing in through his teeth. "Yes."

"You told me-."

"I had hoped that it was simply another attempt to belittle us." He looks at me, then flicks his right hand in the direction of my seat and he paces. I sit. "Another attempt to remind us how helpless we are. Time dragged on, until finally Emperor Damyn sent a message explaining what had happened to me. It seems that Ryand'r… Has abandoned his studies.. in order to join with the Omega Men."

Karras' face falls. "They punish his sisters because they cannot capture him?"

I bow my head. "Ah, collective punishment." Karras' eyes narrow slightly as he looks at me. "Can't let a planet you've subjugated send people off to join a resistance movement. It makes it look like you're not really in control, particularly if it's someone from the ruling class. And if he's at least somewhat successful it would positively encourage that world's citizens to sign up." Karras' face clears as he nods in understanding. "I mean, the Omega Men would love to operate out of a place with a friendly population that can provide them with resources and personnel."

Myand'r nods. "My hope was that his dalliance with the them was the result of youthful exuberance, that would swiftly wear off when he discovered that the Citadel Empire did not collapse in response. It might have been possible to parlay that into something the Citadel would accept…" He looks at me. "That is not the case."

"I'm impressed that you still resisted the ring."

"I have an unenviable job, and know full well that people -or rings- who claim to be able to solve them with a single simple action are almost certainly lying, and will cost me far more than I can afford. So, alien; what is it that you want from me?"

"I want to solve all your problems with a simple series of actions."

He nods. "I see."

"I wasn't going to put it quite like that-."

"And what would those be?"

"I… When I started planning this, I didn't know where the princesses were being kept. I thought it might be… The space station."

"It is not impossible, but I strongly doubt it."

"Well… The first step would be creating interdiction field generators capable of blocking any form of faster than light travel the Citadel or their allies could use."

"And what of the forces already in local space? Or those Tamaraneans already enslaved to the Citadel?"

"The first, I believe that I could deal with relatively swiftly. As.. for.. the slaves… I'm not sure. I… Think I could recover most of them before any… Revenge attacks could take place. If the Citadel even decided to handle the situation in that way."

He makes what is either a quiet snort or a normal exhalation. "And what else?"

"There are a company of Thanagarian mercenaries on Rashashoon now, looking for work. I could bring them here to assist you in rebuilding your military. I'm not sure what tributes the Gordanians have been demanding, but I'm sure that professional soldiers for hire would both be cheaper and provide better value."

I pause for a moment, but he doesn't respond.

"The… Ah, the aim would be to get you to a point where you could become too great a force for the Gordanians to casually raid, even if they could get here-."

"Not to conquer Vega completely?"

Um. "No? I don’t think that's… Really feasible. I mean, you certainly don't have enough people to occupy it, you don't have the social structures to create a structure for rulership… Maybe… Eventually… You might be in a position to establish hegemony, but you're a long way-."

Myand'r turns to Karras. "Karras, why did you bring this man to me?"

"He.. did not mention the mercenaries. If he had-."

"You don't… Have to use them. It just seems… That it would help."

Myand'r stares at me in irritation. "And where exactly do you propose to get these 'interdiction fields', hm?"

"I.. can build them myself. I have a copy of the Green Lantern Corps' database. The Green Man… Ah, the local Green Lantern… Monitors the technology the various pirate groups use fairly closely. There are ways to block just about every form of-."

He stands, turning away. "Karras, I wish that you had not found out like this. I will contact your parents-"

"Excuse me?"

"-with suggestions for-."

Nullify sound, Praexis Demons.

Orange monster babies flicker into existence around the edge of the room, prompting the servants to take a few steps towards the exits.

"Now, I can understand why you'd be sceptical. However, the first part of my… Plan, involves me doing something which has no risks for you. Even if I fail, there isn't anything to link my actions to you. Heck, I got enough scans of Gordanian weapons on Rashashoon that I could probably make it look like it was another clan that did it. Similarly, having interdiction field generators built here doesn't require you to take any risks yourself. I can leave them 'off' until they're ready to be activated. And once they are, it's unlikely they'll cause you a problem for the next three hundred years."

Sound nullification off.

"After that, there are things that I would like to help you to do. I hadn't realised that the princesses were elsewhere, so I imagine that I'll be spending some time recovering them.. and… Whatever other Tamaraneans I can find."

Karras tears his attention away from the Praexis Demons. "But… Your interdiction fields?"

"I won't build one to block power rings. Green Lanterns won't enter Vega, Larfleeze-. The Beast, isn't looking this way and… Neither Sinestro nor the Qwardians have any history of working with any element in Vega. Obviously, I can't guarantee success, but until the interdiction fields go up there's nothing to implicate your government. So?"

Myand'r takes a deep breath as he forces himself to ignore the Praexis. "Why? What do you profit from this?"

"Self-actualisation. I think about myself in a certain way, as being a certain sort of person. And the sort of person I think I am would do this. And.. after the debatable 'goodness' of what I did on Rashashoon, I'd quite like to do something unarguable correct."

"What.. debatable-?"

"I helped a group of pirates negotiate a peace treaty. Hopefully, that will result in the normalisation of near-Vega space… In the longer term. But now, whatever they may become, they're still pirates. Murderers, slavers and slave traders… Thieves, at best." I shrug. "I want to help, because what is happening to you isn't just on at any level. Nothing is gained by allowing the Gordanians to carry on as they are."

Myand'r looks at me for several moments. "I still do not-."

"Perhaps… If I explained it in the medium of song..?"

 

12th July
22:33 GMT

For a second time today I look into the T-.

Huh.

Ring, what do the Tamaraneans call their star?

Liot'r. 'The Fire that Bestows Life'.

Ah. Thank you. The Liot'r system from the outside. Ring, plot course to.. near Tamaran's larger moon using… Spatial.. fracture induction..? Make it as sloppy as you can without injuring me.

Compliance.

There's a reason why this form of FTL isn't my go-to technique. It's slow, inefficient, blinds you at the exit point, is easy to track and once started can't be stopped. Still, if I want the Gordanians to see me coming in from outside, it's probably just the ticket.

Execute.

The space around me shimmers pale blue for a moment and then uhhhhhhh, yep, that's why I don't use that. Maybe there's a way I can use the basic technique with the Plane of Avarice somehow? Something to take up with the Controllers. Wholeness Rightly Assumed, and show me what the Gordanians are doing.

Compliance.

And release the Praexis Demons.

My minions flow forth from the rings as I get a look at the Gordanian ships. The closest one is coming about at speed and increasing the power to all systems as it comes to combat readiness. The one furthest away isn't doing much at the moment and the one nearest the station is… Recalling its crew from the station, by the look of things.

This… Can't be their entire strength. Even if they're bucking Gordanian tradition and using the ships exclusively for combat and not habitation, there isn't enough power here to have made much difference during Tamaran's fight with the Citadel. I need to find out where the rest are.

Tubbs makes momentary eye contact with me, then accelerates so that he's further away.

Ring, take us in the general direction of the station, but slowly enough that the closest ship can intercept us.

Compliance.

Gordanian sensors aren't usually top of the line… But if I assume that they've kept the Tamaranean made ones on the station in good repair… They'll be able to estimate my size from the power of the fracture I used to come here, but my lack of mass should be confusing them. What would they assume? Probably that I've got a stealth system, if they bother to guess at all. What do they think I am? An attacker? Probably not. If I was another Gordanian clan, I'd come in closer and with more ships. Merchant in the wrong place? Maybe, but… Vega doesn't get that sort of traffic. They'd have to be desperate to make any sort of journey on their own in this region of space, and there flat out aren't unaligned merchants in the Vega Systems themselves. Not these days. I suppose it's just about credible that I would be running from an attack… Part of a flotilla that was attacked and panic-jumped here?

I don't know. They're not Citadel-grunt dumb, but the Gordanians don't have a reputation as being great planners. Probably not worth trying to fake mass. After all, I'm not trying to draw them in. Just give them an incorrect idea of my capacities.

Speaking of which… Ring, give me a sloppy, Alan-style flame aura thing.

Compliance.

They've probably got combat veterans over there who have at least heard of Green Lanterns. I'd like to be able to pull off 'Challenger to the Beast' but 'New kind of Lantern' works about as well.

Communication stream incoming.

From the ship or the station?

From the station.

Put it through.

"You have entered the territory of the Tearing Bite clan! Your ship property is hereby confiscated! Heave to and prepare to be boarded!"

I wonder if that was.. recorded…

Ring, reply using… Whatever transmission system they used.

Standing by.

"How were you planning to 'board' me, exactly? Is that some sort of… Gordanian sexual metaphor?"

"It can be! Hahaha!"

Praexis Swarm, accelerate towards the closest ship. Fly by the hull, let them get a good look at you.

The ship still isn't close-close. After the initial surge of power, they appear to have decided that it isn't worth coming after me quickly. At this range, a light speed weapon… Wouldn't hit me reliably. Kinetic torpedoes aside, the ships appear to have a mixed armament: masers for long range, coilguns for close range and for flak, and… High fidelity short range teleporters, both for sending over infantry and grabbing stuff from their targets. Yeah, those are general purpose ships, not dedicated warships. The maser turrets on the top of the ship have rotated to point my way -ring, make sure that we're never actually in their reticles- but they're not otherwise taking offensive action.

"No, seriously, I don't get it. Can you actually see me yet?"

"We know exactly where you are! Do not try to escape!"

"That's not what I asked. Can you see me? Do you have the technology for a visual identification?"

"That does not matter!"

"You'll laugh when you spot it."

A beam of microwave radiation flashes by. Nothing like close enough to hit, though that does give me some idea of their beam attenuation. Not bad, for Gordanians. Don't think that was a full-power shot. Probably trying to intimidate me into compliance. And -hah!- they've actually put up an interdiction field against spatial fracture induction! Not stupid at least.

The Praexis Demons are about to get into 'looking-out-the-windows' range, so I strain my empathic vision to try and see their crew's responses. Not that Gordanian ships have windows -those are a purely civilian-ship-flying-in-a-safe-area thing- but they do have camera mounts. Small objects in proximity should trigger an automatic-. Yep, there we go. And unlike Tamaraneans, these people have been out and about since Larfleeze started sending his Construct-Lanterns out to visit people.

And there's the flash of yellow. Just the bridge so far, focused on… That's a command seat, so the other one is probably the sensor operator. And now it's spreading. Just to the bridge… The guns look automated, so there isn't really any reason for anyone else to-. More flickers of yellow. It doesn’t spread further, but a small number of people across the ship just started being afraid of me.

"Are you laughing yet?"

I get dead air for a few moments.

"Begone, slave of the Beast. We have nothing that belongs to your master."

"Oh, I'm not a slave. I retain my own purposes."

"Do you claim to be the Beast yourself? How stupid do you think I am?"

"No. Just someone who uses the same power as him. I have a… Business proposition for you. Do you think that we could talk in person?"

"What business?"

"I wish to purchase some Tamaraneans from you."

 

12th July
22:40 GMT

"Welcome aboard the Scratching Post." The body language of the scarred Gordanian opposite me suggests caution, but not an immediate intent to attack. Unlike the heavily armed soldiers that have formed a rough semi-circle inside the airlock. They don't appear to have been told what I am, just that I'm a threat. "I'm Chief Weezak's seneschal. I will take you to our holding pens."

Hm. Seneschal isn't exactly a position of honour amongst Gordanians. Holders of the title are usually ex-chiefs who are deposed and.. 'encouraged' to swear loyalty to the one who removed them. The custom both allows for leaders facing a coup to step down without being killed and allows their knowledge to be retained by the clan… But they then spend years reporting to the one who defeated them and who in turn knows that they must keep constant watch on… Oh, no, I see that Weezak went in for implanted explosives instead. Much more efficient.

"So, which was it?"

"Which what, Lantern?"

Ah, he recognised the rings. I raise my right hand, pointing to a recent-looking scar running along the left side of his neck. "Did you jump or were you pushed?"

He turns away from me, forcing me to rise off the ground to avoid being hit by what's left of his tail. "I displeased Clan Commander Trogaar." He heads off deeper into the station and I float along behind him, a couple of guards falling in behind me. The corridors would be more than spacious enough for Tamaraneans, but Gordanians would struggle to pass one another. "I was.. fortunate enough to be permitted to kneel to Chief Weezak."

The Clan Commander is the head of the clan's military forces. So as I thought, their dedicated warships are somewhere else. Proper warships, most likely built in Citadel shipyards and possibly equipped with Psion weapons. Crewed by the best veterans the clan has.

I'm… Going to… Have to kill a lot of these people, aren't I? I… Maybe I could..? Work out a way to maroon them somewhere instead? Get rid of their FTL drives and long range communications equipment..? Don't know yet.

Tamaranean space stations were fairly Spartan affairs, and if the Gordanians have changed things they at least have the sense to keep the public areas clear… It's even reasonably well cleaned, though I doubt that they have robots to do that…

In a side passage, I get a momentary glimpse of a young Tamaranean boy mopping the deck. Ah.

My host stops in front of a heavy door in what would once have been a mechanical goods storage bay. Tamaran didn't quite have enough of a space industry to do the practical thing and handle all of their ship fabrication in orbit. Quite a lot of prefabricated components were made planetside and shipped up until they were needed. With the Gordanians not doing any shipbuilding here, they can probably spare the space.

"In here." He strikes the access panel with his right fist. The doors stay closed, a quiet growl bubbling up from his throat. He taps the communicator on his chest. "Zaark to Control. Open the door to Slave Pen Two or I'll cut off your testicles and send them to the Psions."

"Say please, Zaark. I want to hear you say 'please'."

The red billows around his interior, and he half turns in the direction that leads to the station's control centre. I can see the way his fear of being weak feeds the need to strike down those who think they can take liberties.

An exploitable disunity.

"Please, allow me."

An orange beam connects me to the doorway for a moment, easily triggering the lock mechanism. There are a.. lot of mechanical parts holding the doors together. I suppose the whole thing is designed to resist Gordanian strength. Zaark steps forwards and grabs the slowly retracting halves of the door, shoving them apart faster than the mechanism is designed to allow. There's a puff of smoke as something burns out.

"Drollg, there appears to be something wrong with your door. I would get on that quickly if I were you. Zaark out."

"You're rotten meat, Z-!"

Zaark taps his communicator again as I get a look-.

They really are pens.

Tough looking… Pipes, I think? Have been welded into bars, with heavy plates serving as doors. Each cell holds between four and ten Tamaraneans, and if there's an organisation system I can't tell what it is. They stare at us fearfully, backing away to the fullest extent that their surroundings allow them to. I see… Few cuts or signs of malnutrition, but plenty of bruises and electrical burns.

"You see any you like?" Zaark heads over to a chest mounted on the wall and pulls out… A glorified cattle prod. "I can make them walk around for you, or talk or whatever."

Ring, control my features. Callous disinterest.

Compliance.

"The ones we have working for us, we implant explosives. These aren't processed yet." He walks over to a cage, bending down slightly to stare at those inside. "We can throw that in if you buy more than ten. Or you can just stick in whatever you use before you leave."

The ring reducing my response to next to nothing, I stroll down a walkway between two rows of cages, making sure to thoroughly examine those within. "Does the planet tithe them to you..? Or do you just grab them?"

"Trogaar orders us to bring him a certain number of adults. We sell the excess we collect. You want a woman?"

I stop, then turn my head towards him. "Excuse me?"

"Your species, you look like they do. If you're looking for a fuck-slave, I could point ones out to you. No?" A slight flaring of his nose that is a Gordanian shrug. "Tell me what you're looking for, then."

"Domestic servants." I continue walking through the.. room. "As you say, my species and theirs are physically similar. There's a certain appeal, and we wouldn't have to widen the hallways as we would if I bought Gordanians."

"Just for yourself? You have a big house?"

"No, I'm thinking of buying wholesale, selling retail." I stop at the far end of the room, turning back towards him. "Is this all you have?"

"Is there a problem with them?" He glances around the room. "They're not lively now, but-."

"No, no. This is fine, mostly. But I can't start a business with this few. And of course, I'm willing to pay more for those with specialist skills."

"Technical skills?" I nod. "Most of those died during the last war. We put the ones we catch to work on our equipment. Or send them to Trogaar."

"And they don't commit sabotage? Wouldn't you be better having them train your people?"

"Smaller hands are better for some things." Another flare. "We watch them, of course. But it is true that it would be better if we worked without them."

"Do you think..? I might persuade your Chief to part with them?"

"With money, all things become possible, uh?" I smile politely. "Weezak will want money. More than the market rate. And I want time to make sure our people can do the jobs. We can sell you the domestics now, if you want them."

"And more than you have? If Trogaar is using them for manual labour, I assume there's a certain amount of… Wastage?"

He makes a low hissing noise. "If you're serious about a big contract like that, you might need to talk to Trogaar himself."

"I'll try not to take too much of his time. If I could use your communication facilities..?"

"No, he'll want to see you in person. And we'll want to feel the texture of your money. If you buy what we have now… We can talk about getting you a visit."

 

12th July
23:22 GMT

"…the market rate. Even taking into account 'rarity value'-" I make the air quotes gesture. "-I'm not prepared to pay a premium of more than five percent. Not for this many, and not for slaves who were born free."

"Look, if you need them broken-."

"I don’t need them broken. I need them diligently performing their assigned tasks with an appreciation that such is their lot in life. If it was just me then I'd stick a brand on their foreheads and call it a day, but it isn't. The market in my region of space simply isn't the same as the Vega market. I can't just brutalise them into obedience and expect to get a decent return."

"We've got steroid injections we could give them to make them a bit more lively. Once they've gone to the final buyer-."

"Zaark! I'm selling for domestic usage. One or two per buyer, and they'll demand that a doctor check their purchases before they authorise the transfer of the funds! My name would be mud if I used short lived chemical tricks! Particularly if there were ongoing effects on their health."

"Sounds pretty fussy."

"That's where the money is. I suspect that half of them are basically going to end up as ornaments anyway."

His tail straightens, then vibrates slightly. Surprise. "People pay for that?"

"Sure. We certainly weren't going to use them as labourers. Automation is more effective for industrial purposes in most conditions."

"They hiring Gordanians? Because that doesn't sound like a bad place to retire! Hahahaha!"

"Hah! Ah." I lean forwards. "Was that a joke, or do you want me to start asking around?"

"Errrrr… Better not. Anyway." He jabs at the Gordanian friendly keyboard, figures moving across the display. "If we're using Rashashoon valuations, I'm happy to take the same values on mechanical or electronic components. Agreed?"

"Raw materials?"

"Minus ten percent. We've got an asteroid field here, and we're not doing any large scale heavy manufacturing. We can get most of what we need ourselves, and we can buy the rest from other parts of the clan."

"Fair enough. What do you want off that list?"

"Hm." He scrolls through a few pages. "If it were up to me, I'd go for high end technical parts. Not a lot of places can make the really good stuff, so there's usually a waiting list. And we're nowhere near powerful enough to muscle our way to the top."

I take a moment to check what he's pointing to. Huh. Perfectly engineered millennia guaranteed parts for systems only a little superior to what they already have. It would improve their capacities a bit, but mostly it would save them time and increase their reliability. And then there's the installation time… Even if I was planning on not destroying or capturing everything I give them, I wouldn't worry too much about them having it. Better still, the chaotic nature of Vega has inflated the prices. It wouldn't take me long to make enough equipment to equal the value we've agreed on for the slaves.

"That sounds jolly unfair. I don't have a problem-."

"Yeah, but Weezak would." He growls quietly. "Not like he's the one who has to arrange maintenance schedules for systems using parts that should have been time expired years ago."

"Oh. You have my sympathy, but… What does Weezak want?"

"Weapons mostly. Infantry and ship. Matter disrupter melee weapons and ship grade particle cannons most of all."

"Matter disrupter melee..? Really?"

"Trogaar likes them. Which means we like them."

"Oh… Kay…"

"Weezak was assigned here from the clan military. He doesn't really… Value the commercial side of things. They make our warriors better in melee, then they're what he wants."

"Is melee fighting a big part of-?"

"No. No, it isn't."

"I.. can.. supply them, if that's what you need." Unlike their earthly cousins the crumbler gauntlets, they don't do much to construct barriers. They won't present me with a problem. "And I can do particle cannons… But if you want anti-ship size… You do realise that you'd need to strip out most of your existing weapon systems in order to fit them? To say nothing of the time in dock. This place wasn't designed to work on Gordanian clan ships."

"And guess whose job it is to fix that?"

"Honestly, you might be better off just building a new ship. Or saving your currency units and buying one. If the peace treaty with the Spider Guild holds, Jarko and Amalak are going to be looking to offload their older models."

"Peace treaty? First I've heard of it."

Ring, transfer full text.

Compliance.

"Basically, they agreed on territorial claims and the Spiders agreed to build ships for the victors. It should reduce hull prices a lot over the next few years."

"Hm." Zaark skim-reads the text, then moves to the appendix on the build queue. "You're right. I'll need to get this checked-."

"What, you think I faked an eighty page treaty off the cuff?"

"No, but you might have edited a thing or two. Whatever exactly happens, this is going to affect prices a lot." He sits back slightly. "Which means… Until I know exactly how this is going to work out, I can't possibly know what the best weapon acquisition strategy is."

I nod. "Quite true."

"The price will probably drop on… Low end particle cannons. If Amalak liquidates his stock. Which it looks like he's going to."

"If you say so."

"And in a situation of uncertainty… Investing in items known to hold their value is sensible, even if it turns out not to have been optimal."

"Sounds sensible to me. Do you think you can convince Weezak?"

"Weezak's not really an economics chief. I wave this treaty at him and he'll spend the next demi-year trying to work out the military implications. Which works for me, since he'll be out of my scales."

"Though you might want to throw him a bone. I mean, if you did upgrade your guns, you'd probably need improved power generation systems anyway. It would hardly hurt to swap over a few hardpoints."

"Yeah. Okay." His fingers flick with surprising dexterity as he adds items to the trade list. "How soon can you have… This together?"

I lean forwards, a faint smile on my lips. "How soon can you have my slaves ready for dispatch?"

"Depends on what you want us to do with the implants."

"Removed, if that can be done without completely traumatising them."

"No, the implants are pretty resilient." He absentmindedly scratches his neck scar with the claw of his right forefinger. "Should be about… Six neegath..? As long as I don't have to bust any heads together when my tail rot cases find out they're going to be scrubbing their own decks from now on."

I feel the ring work to keep my face naturally animated. "I'll have it ready by then."

 

12th July
19:03 GMT -6

I stare passively into the unblinking eyes of the late Lawrence Crock, ignoring the sudden change in the pressure of the air behind me. A thought, a single weak desire from me and he can move and speak almost as if he were truly alive. In its absence-.

"Is that Sportsmaster, Master?"

"Yes. What's left of him, at any rate."

I can feel her smile on the back of my neck. "Did you hunt him down and kill him, Master?"

"In a manner of speaking. This was… Last year, while I was still with the team. Our first official mission. We were in Santa Prisca-" Which has since become a slightly better controlled third world pisspot. "-to try and work out why they weren't sending quite as much Venom to America as they used to." I frown. "Which -now I think about it- is a pretty odd reason to send us somewhere. Anyway, he was trying to do a runner with a sample of Venom Buster-" I raise my right arm slightly, turning my attention to it as I for a moment picture my post-Venom Bustering dimensions. "-and looked like he might have useful information, so I assimilated him."

"Did he?"

I lower my arm again. "Nothing special. He was the first man I killed… Since arriving on this Earth, at least. The most useful thing I managed to do with him was attract… Jade's… Approval."

"She fell in love with you because you killed her father?"

"Not.. just that, but it certainly gave me an in." I manage a weak smile as I turn to face her-. "I see you've been out hunting."

She nods, still smiling. Completely ignoring the blood splattered across the left side of her face. I can't help but think that there's something very wrong with this girl. I don't think it's completely my fault… "They keep trying to smuggle in more weapons, Master."

I nod. "Hopefully, they'll get the message this time." Her eyes shine with excitement as I gently place the tips of the fingers of my left hand on her right shoulder. The slightly bloodier one, as it happens. I.. don't think I'll ask the Genomorphs to bother trying to clean it out. "Well done. I am pleased by how attentive you are to your responsibilities in Sudan."

"Thank you, Master!"

"Now, go and get yourself cleaned up before you cause Miss Shimmer to give you another lecture on hygiene."

"Yes, Master." She steps back, bows, and then dashes away. Leaving me with what I'm increasingly coming to regard as a mistake. Assimilation is… A hideous violation of the soul. I always knew that, I just… Didn't care. Mister Crock was a vile man, Dorrance was just as bad… Then… Nabu. After my exposure to the Anti-Life, I'm…

I don't think that anyone deserves to have this happen to them.

"Ring, release."

"Unable to comply."

"You understand that I genuinely desire this?"

"Unable to comply."

"Why?"

"Insufficient data. Speculative: technique requires both intense desire and information presently lacking."

I close my eyes, nodding sadly. "Or it might not be possible at all."

"Insufficient data."

"Sinestro?"

"I'm hardly a specialist in orange light manipulation, Corpsman. If you are still unwilling to consult the Weaponers, I can only suggest that you finally undertake that sojourn to Maltus that you were planning."

"In a week. Perhaps two. I want to be certain that I am ready." But for now… I draw the Sword of the Fallen from its sheath. "Mister Crock, I really don't know whether or not there's enough of you left to understand what I'm saying… I'm… Sorry, for doing this to you. If I'd known… I'd just have killed you."

The glow from the rings I'm wearing dims and then dies as I rediscover my capacity for compassion. I suppose there was no guarantee that getting better… More whole, was going to make me feel good in every instance.

And then I stab Lawrence Crock through the sigil on his forehead.

The blade moves smoothly through his construct flesh, and he remains expressionless as he fades from existence. I wait for a moment, then bow my head. Is that..? It? Is he truly dead? Does his soul pass to an afterlife, or is he simply erased from existence? Knowing what little I do of Hell, I suspect that the latter would be preferable…

"Ring, Dorrance."

"By your command."

My second… Slave, appears from the ring on my left ring finger. "Mister Dorrance…" The same vacant stare. "You were a nasty piece of work and you killed a lot of people. But you had a pretty shitty start, and I can't really say that you were worse than the people around you. Just… A little more successful."

Stab. Again, the knife goes in and again the target fades.

"Ring, Crock."

"Subject not found."

I nod to myself. I wasn't sure… Done now. Two things more. I walk over to the oversized coffin containing Mister Dorrance's fake corpse. I made it look reasonably good, as if someone tided it up after they found the body. And then put it in cold storage for few months. The coffin is.. pretty nice, good quality wood and a little tasteful decoration. The only odd element is the folder sitting on the top.

His only relative I was able to trace was Edmund Dorrance, presently resident in Hong Kong. His father. The folder contains proof of their relationship -in Braille- and a short biography. The two of them didn't ever meet, but if someone has to take receipt of his body…

"Ring, hush tube to Edmund Dorrance's office."

"By your command."

Morning tomorrow in Hong Kong at the moment. For a split second I see the man come to his feet, a blade drawn as two confused looking bodyguards raise their guns while they try to work out what set their blind ninja boss off. Then I shove the coffin through the tube and close it down.

I walk over to the second coffin, drumming my fingers on the wood of its surface. The difference between the first and the second being… That I actually like Paula. The time I've waited to do this…

Show me.

Paula is alone, Artemis is… Well, not in Gotham. Could be on a team mission, but… Not really relevant. "Ring, hush tube to… Outside her apartment."

"By your command."

I… I look at the coffin for a moment… Then walk through and close the portal behind me.

I take a deep breath, then exhale heavily. Then I raise my right hand and knock on her door.

And then I stand there, like a great grey lemon weighing a third of a tonne.

"Just a moment!"

I hear footsteps as she moves towards the door. This must be a slightly novel way for… One of us to enter her house. Usually superheroes go in through the window, and I usually tube directly inside. Maybe I should have..? No. No, I think this is correct.

She pulls the door open, her face pointed at normal-person head level for a moment before she corrects. And she.. smiles. "Grayven. What brings you here? Is Jade with you?"

"No, she's… Not. Would..? You mind if I came inside for a few minutes? There are a few things I need to tell you."

 

12th July
19:07 GMT -6

Paula slowly leads the way into the living room. She's looking.. well. Not her full Huntress-hotness, but intense exercise and a sense of purpose can do wonders for a person. I stop just inside the room, the cessation of my footfalls prompting her to turn around.

"Is Jade hurt?"

I shake my head. A reasonable enough question. "Not… She wasn't when last I saw her, and she was in a safe location under an assumed name. I haven't… I haven't seen her for a little while."

"I.. see." Her face isn't blank, but I do think that she's making an effort to avoid giving away what she's thinking with her expressions. "Would you like to sit down?"

I nod, giving her a small smile. "Thank you." Having been here so much for various reasons, I reinforced one of her chairs… Still, I'm careful to lower myself into it slowly as she takes a seat on the adjacent settee.

"I was expecting to hear from you after you destroyed the League of Shadows."

"I… Thought it best not to visit someone known to have links to the League in the immediate aftermath. In case someone decided to come after you. Law enforcement, or.. someone we missed. Besides, I was… Fairly occupied for a few days."

She nods. "And afterwards?"

"That's… One of the reasons I'm here. I…" I turn my head away, looking out of the curtains into the Gotham evening. "I told Jade the second time we met that I intended to destroy the League of Shadows… But, with all of the work I did on integrating with Ra's and his fellow 'Illuminati'… She… Appears to have come to the conclusion that I had genuinely converted." I turn back towards her, but her face still betrays no clue as to what she's actually thinking. "I told her to keep her head down for a few days… Carried out the purge, got her a Presidential Pardon-"

"She is-?"

"-and an engagement ring." Paula doesn't carry on speaking, though she isn't quite suppressing the happiness she feels at the idea that her elder daughter has a chance at becoming an honest woman-.

Uh.

Of having something approaching a normal life, former sins written off if not actually forgiven.

"She was expecting the police, and was highly agitated. When I explained what I'd done, she… Tried to stab me, and.. generally indicated that my continued presence was… Undesirable."

Paula's face takes on a more sombre aspect as she nods. "I am very sorry to hear that. Have you tried speaking to her since?"

"I… Probably would have done, were it not for the fact that my father chose that moment to pay me a visit."

"Your father. The man you once described to Jade as being Lawrence with the powers of a Kryptonian."

I nod. "Actually, he's a lot more powerful than that. He has subtle options which Kryptonians lack… He actually seemed to be fairly pleased with me… And I still don't know whether he was feigning it for effect or if… What he did to me is how he shows… Affection."

My jaw locks as for a moment my mind revisits the experience of being in his presence.

"What did he do to you?"

"The Anti-Life Equation. Ah, a part of it. He shared with me his conviction that existence itself is unbearable agony. Every moment of my life becoming the worst moment in my life, forever." I shift slightly in my seat. "I was locked in that mode until last Sunday. Since.. I.. was helped… Free… I.. haven't.. really.. felt up to it. To talking to her. Have..? Have you seen her? Spoken to her?"

"She telephoned me from a burnable cell phone to let me know that she was alright, but I have not heard from her since." I nod. It was a bit… I mean, what the hell would I have done if she was here? "Would it not be a simple matter for you to find her?"

"I'm.. not… Fully myself again, yet. And.. I…" I squeeze my eyes shut. "I don't know what to do about.. her."

"Oh, Grayven."

I hear her starting to get up. I raise my right hand to forestall her, opening my eyes as I do so. "The other reason why I came here-." Oh. Will. That felt… Like forcing the fug coating my thoughts and feelings away… If I regain anger and hope I'll nearly be back to normal. I'll need to talk to Scott about… "The other reason I came here is a good deal more personal to you. On my old team's mission to Santa Prisca last year -that was before Artemis joined- I encountered and killed your husband, Lawrence Crock."

Her face slips back into neutral.

"Legally, I'm in the clear… He was armed, dangerous and a known international criminal. And I was a rookie. But I almost certainly could have taken him alive, if I'd wanted to. I just decided that the information in his head was worth more than his life."

There's a moment of silence.

"How did he die?"

I frown weakly, my eyes fixed on her carpet. "Depends what you mean. He died while bound in orange construct rope as I assimilated him. Shortly before that he hit me with exploding javelins and tried to shoot me with his plasma crossbow. And tried to close the distance so he could punch me. I was Earth Prime Human size at the time so it might have seemed like a reasonable tactic. Wouldn't have worked…"

"Who else knew that you had killed him?"

"I told Jade and.. the other members of the Light. A few of them had bodyguards with them… But they're all dead now. As far as I know no one else knows. Certainly no one in the Justice League."

"Artemis?"

"No. Though I'll tell her if you want me to."

"No, I-." She takes a breath. "No."

"I've.. killed better for less since then, but he was the first person I killed on this Earth. I don't feel bad for killing him.. exactly… But the way I did it… Was unnecessary. Assimilation is a violation of a person's soul, and while he's truly dead now, for the intervening time, he… Wasn't. I don't think he was.. exactly.. suffering…"

Oh, this is… Drivel. Ring, hush tube.

By your command.

Filaments flick out, reaching through the invisible portal and latching onto the coffin to pull it through. Paula comes to her feet as it floats into view.

"If you'll forgive the impertinence-" I rise, turning away as I deposit the box on the middle of the floor. "-I included enough money to pay for a funeral… Or you can just dump his body in a back alley and donate it to charity." I walk towards the tube aperture. "And if Jade-."

I don't know.

I walk through the tube, absent-mindedly raising my left hand back towards-.

"Grayven."

I stop, turning around and leaning back through. "Yes?"

"Thank you, for returning his body."

I look down, shaking my head. "It's a bare minimum."

"I fell firmly out of love with Lawrence when I was in prison. You did not need to do this."

"I should have done it months ago." I pull back-.

"If I hear from Jade, I will tell her that you asked after her."

I close my eyes again.

Ring, close the.. tube.

By your command.

 

13th July
02:49 GMT

I try not to give the Tamaranean chattels being trouped past me more than a cursory examination. With my eyes, at any rate. Ring scans… Reasonable health, no serious injuries. None are starving, which is the thing I was worried about. Telling a cripple that you're going to get them a replacement limb makes them inclined to work with you. Telling someone who's been starving that you can't give them food…

Zaark brings up the rear of the column, looking pleased with himself. "That's every last one. I'm looking forward to putting some complainers on punishment duty."

"All of them? He agreed?"

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

One x-ionised axe. With a little something built into the head to make it explode if anyone tried to analyse it with anything sophisticated enough to actually make sense of it. Not that I think Weezak will let anyone touch his new precious. One Gordanian with an axe shouldn't be much a problem, and I could tell by looking at him that he'd probably part with the remaining Tamaranean technical specialists for it. And the chance to maybe buy more in future. Not that that's going to happen, of course.

"No, no." I shake my head. "There isn't any point until I know how well these sell. But if they do…" I turn as the Gordanian dock workers close the transportation… Well, it's more or less a large shipping crate. "You'll be the first man I speak to."

"You sure you don't want us to fly these somewhere for you? I could probably do it at cost."

"Thank you, but no." I rise into the air, thick bands of orange light connecting me to each of the six shipping containers. "What sort of Lantern can't fly a little luggage around?"

"Alright. But just to be clear: we have a strict no-returns policy. HAHAHAHA!"

"Hehe, yes." Inside the shipping containers orange filaments dart from person to person. The few visible injuries appear to be from where they rushed the autochirurgeons in suturing the incisions where they removed the explosive implants. Doesn't take a lot of bomb to kill a person if the bomb is already inside their skull. Heal heal heal… "Alright, good doing business with you." I lift the containers, prompting flickers of yellow from the ground crew. "Open up the bay."

Zaark flicks his right forefinger in the direction of the inner airlock, prompting his fellow Gordanians to march back into the inner parts of the station. Tamaran didn't have the technology for selective atmosphere fields, and while some of the richer Gordanian clans make some use of it, it's too expensive for them to have made it widespread.

Zaark is last to leave the bay and the atmosphere starts being evacuated the moment the stationside doors close. I float the crates in the direction of the outer doors as the quiet noises of the station fall away with the air. Within the crates there's an understandable degree of fear, consternation… The muttered conversations as workers from various parts of the station pass on what little they've seen and those from the pens who tell the others what they saw of me. A few friends happy to be reunited and more than a few prayers to X'Hal and Auron. I don't think anyone's noticed that they aren't carrying injuries any longer.

The outer doors open and I get a clear view of space. I could just leave now, but since I want them to underestimate me I leave it until there's enough room for me to pass comfortably through. Ring, prep spatial fracture, take us in the direction of Rashashoon… Maybe a bit softer this time?

Compliance.

My cargo and I drift towards the exit, passing through just as the opening becomes wide enough. I'm generating artificial gravity inside the containers, as well as nullifying the momentum imparted by my acceleration. Still, we've got a way to go before we get a safe distance away from the station for a spatial fracture.

So, what did I learn? The Gordanians maintaining the blockade are a tiny proportion of their clan's full strength. Technically skilled Tamaraneans are being sent somewhere at the behest of their war leader. Ring, start analysing the Gordanians' drives and their residues. Chances are they're all using a similar system.

Compliance.

Ugh, there are still enough charged particles and miniature spatial distortions from the last war that I can't be completely sure which are recent… I toss out a few dozen stealth observer drones as I head towards safe fracture distance. Still, there are only so many worlds in this cluster. Unless they're using magic or anti-Lantern shielding, I should be able to find them in… A couple of weeks. Darn.

Space around me shimmers blue, a feeling of mild disquiet rising in my chest. This jump is a little…

Uuugh.

I hear shrieks from-.

Damn it, can't cancel this. Just.. bear with it…

Another moment of unpleasantness and we're back in normal space. We should be far enough away now that it doesn't matter… Ring, a spatial warp. Take us to Rilsomtine.

Compliance.

The third planet of the Crown Imperium- The space around me bends and turns orange. -is a nice place for a visit. It sells itself as a resort and centre of agricultural production and best of all? Has a rather large fleet nearby at a constant state of alert. The Crown Imperium is the first civilised interstellar nation of any size near Vega, a sworn enemy of the pirate groups and has quite definite anti-slavery policies. Getting one of their charitable organisations to agree to put up my guests didn't take a great deal of work.

The warp ends and I send the agreed signal to the naval command station. They can't actually stop a sufficiently determined Lantern, but these are basically good people and I don't want to rile them up… More than my actions in negotiating peace between the pirate factions already have.

Not that I was stupid enough to tell them that was me.

I get an approval ping, then warp further in-system. Not too close. Warps of the power I used.. aren't really for well-travelled regions of space. Check the site… And transition downwards.

Space is replaced by fields, silence by insect song and isolation by Felicity and a local fellow in a vaguely Star Trekky suit. I gently deposit the shipping containers on the ground as he comes closer. "Orange Lantern. Did everything go well?"

"They've already moved most of the slaves. Might be a little while before I can work out where they're holding them. And I.. can't risk taking them back until…"

He nods. "We'll be happy to provide these poor unfortunates with shelter for as long as you need."

X-ionised blades emerge from subspace and cut through the hinges on the containers, orange constructs pulling them away and dropping them on the ground. "Thank you. They don't have any immediate medical needs, but a good meal wouldn't go amiss."

He nods again. "Of course. We've got that.. and bathing facilities, set up and ready."

I rise off the ground and float towards the now-open containers, manacles popping open as I do so. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, my name is Orange Lantern two eight one four and I will be your liberator for the evening." They're staring at me. Most aren't expecting anything much from me. Fair enough. "We are presently on a safe world in the Crown Imperium where slavery is very illegal. I'll be depositing you here until I can remove the Gordanian presence from Tamaran-" Just a few flickers… "-permanently, at which point I intend to return you there. I apologise for the inconvenience of the mode of transportation, but it was the best way I could come up with to ensure that they didn't suspect anything."

A few braver ones have risen and are nervously leaving the confines of the cargo containers, blinking in the midday sunlight. A few children take to the air, marvelling at their newly regained freedom. Must have been.. unpleasant, being confined to space station corridors for a species with a natural capacity for flight.

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

 

13th July
03:12 GMT

"You bought them?" Mylissa -the social worker I asked to have a chat with Felicity- glowers at me. "You realise that so long as there's a market, they'll keep kidnapping and brutalising these people."

"Yes. I do."

"Then would you like to-" She glances over to where a group of ex-slaves are engaged in some sort of.. flying game. "-explain?"

"It was the method most likely to result in their safe recovery. And while I am aware that there might well be longer term consequences, I intend to soon make it impossible for them to resupply. And.. I… Tried to make it clear that I wouldn't be buying any more quickly."

"So why are you here rather than out making it impossible for them to resupply?"

"Because I don't know where the rest of the people they took from Tamaran are. If I do anything aggressive, it might tip whoever has them off. As it stands, I doubt that Zaark's done anything more than notify his superiors of the sale. I'm not a threat yet."

She stares into my eyes for several seconds before averting her eyes with a toss of her head. "You better know what you're doing. These people got off lightly. Some of the people we get here-."

"I know. And speaking of Felicity..?"

Mylissa slumps slightly. "Oh, she's not damaged. That's all she is. She's grown up believing that the way she lives is completely normal. Her concept of good is limited to.. pleasing her patron and her owner."

"Can you help her?"

Mylissa shrugs. "She keeps trying to be helpful. We can give her things to do and thank her when she does them, but at this point there's no way to change her core schema short of neural reprofiling." I nod. "Are you going to leave her here?"

"Probably. I… Don't.. like.. being thought of in the way she thinks of me."

She frowns. "You're telepathic?"

"No, empathic. But it’s a very precise sort of empathy. Her highest aim in life is to be the kept plaything of a powerful figure who treats her decently. I recoil every time I look at it. Does..? Do you think that she'll accept me leaving her here? I don't want to make things worse."

"From what you told me about how she joined the Omega Men, she'll just find someone else to attach herself to. As I said, I don't think that's avoidable."

I nod. A bit of an imponderable. There are probably things I could do to change her value system… But would she still be herself afterwards? I'm.. inclined to think not… Which still leaves this as the best place for her. "And… You'll make sure that no one takes advantage of her?"

"As much as I can."

"Then that's probably for the-."

The table's holoscreen flashes into life, the institute director's face appearing. "Orange Lantern?"

"How can I help?"

"We have a… Message incoming. Someone… Probably from the fleet, they sent a message to Central Office on Kranaltine."

"Okay?"

"And… It somehow reached Chief Minister Jediah Rikane. He wishes to speak with you. We, ah… We don't normally rate access to such exalted circles."

"Speaking to him is the least I can do. Please, put him through."

"Just a moment." The screen appears to turn off, giving me a clear view of the space behind it.

Then a man in loose-fitting green clothing appears. The background.. looks like a well appointed office. The man himself is bald and sports a bushy beard and full eyebrows. Not a goatee though, so he's probably not evil. I nod politely. "Chief Minister. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I was notified that you liberated a group of slaves from Citadel-controlled space. It's hardly a state secret that I'm in favour of anything that hurts the Citadel." I nod. "I had been under the impression that Lanterns couldn't operate in Vega. Have the Guardians altered their position?"

"No, but it doesn't apply to Lanterns who don't work for them."

He smiles faintly. "An excellent piece of sophistry. Can we expect more like this in future?"

"I intend to… Reform.. certain aspects of Vega's culture. Certainly, that will include abolishing slavery, reducing military conflict to.. normal levels. And I can't see how the Citadel or the Psions would survive such a reform."

He nods. "Music to my ears, Orange Lantern. I'll…" He waves to someone out of shot. "Make funds available for the rescue centre you're in. And if you should find yourself in need of fleet support… We're always willing to do our part in culling pirate numbers."

"You're very kind, Chief Minister. I'll let you know if that becomes… Operationally appropriate."

"Good show. Rikane out."

The screen vanishes once more. Hm. Crown Imperium ships aren't bad… But if they had the force to purge the region around Vega then they'd already have done it. Perhaps I could give them the details of groups who aren't prepared to accept the new calm?

"E-excuse me? Orange Lantern?"

I look up as a young Tamaranean man hovers -literally and metaphorically- a short distance from the table I'm sitting at.

"Yes? How can I help?"

"I… Overheard..? You don't know where they sent the others?"

I straighten up. "You do?"

He nods. "They had me working on… Non-critical systems. But, I heard them… The crews from the other ship, the ones that took the others away… They said the planet's name and how long it took to get there. I… I don't know if-."

"It will certainly reduce the time I need to spend looking. Please, tell me."

"They called it Hny'xx, and they said that it took them over fourteen neegath to get there."

Ring, is there a Hny'xx on record?

No 'Hny'xx' found. However, the Citadel uses standardised naming conventions for unoccupied worlds-.

Yes, yes. And?

Thirty statistically probable locations. Locations may be eliminated by tracking Tearing Bite clan military ships and scanning their primary drive design.

And all clans have some military forces in their homeworld's system.

I stand, my full power armour appearing around me. As the homeworld of one of the Citadel's main allies, Karna is well defended and is known to have Psion-built combat installations.

This could be… Interesting.

 

13th July
03:28 GMT

Those are some decidedly unfriendly looking ships.

Appearing in close proximity to Karna seemed like a bad idea. They've had the ability to block warping for a long time, and while transitioning is ludicrously hard to block over a wide area unless you've got a power ring too it can be detected. And it basically says 'a Lantern was here'. I don't exactly know what happens if the Psions think that the Guardians have gone back on their word, but whatever it is I don't want to be responsible for it.

So I appeared in the next system over, the automated metallic hydrogen extraction plants in orbit around its one super gas giant planet taking absolutely no notice of me. The thing about forms of FTL fast enough to actually get you anywhere is that they remove the need to move through a region. Space is vast, systems are small. If you're attacking somewhere it's because there's something you want in that particular place because otherwise you'd be somewhere else.

Now I'm on the outskirts of the Karna system, whose star's Gordanian name translates as 'The Star that Shines on Karna'. I'm phased and invisible, the rings prepared to deflect anything that they can detect before it detects me. Gordanians generally make use of whatever ships they can get, but clans large enough to have a distinct military will generally use Branx ship designs. The Branx build about four different types of FTL system, but none of them skip the intervening space. Species in Vega have been in space for so long that I.. need to narrow it down.

In theory the patrol fleets of Karna aren't supposed to quarrel, sharing as they do the purpose of defending their homeworld. In practice, you can tell how closely allied clans are by where they're positioned in relation to one another. Certain clans do not want anything to do with one another, the customary pax domum being the sole reason why they're not shooting it out instead of simply avoiding each other.

Whoever runs this mess -if anyone does- must be a master politician.

The ships are well armoured, well shielded and well armed. Some are even agile. I actually… Couldn't take all of that. It's not even a question of having to kill them to do it; there are so many guns and shields that even an optimistic assessment says I'd be dead before I destroyed more than a fraction of their capital ships. They'd feel it, but…

Anyway, Tearing Bite located. Ring, use the communication protocols we acquired on Scratching Post. Create… A sensor ghost there, at the edge of their patrol area.

Compliance.

Smaller ships often get their sensor data enhanced by the more powerful systems of their larger counterparts. That communication system isn't particularly well secured, as it's useful but not essential. The Gordanians' decentralised systems make it a little harder for me to acquire data than it is on Earth, but I had hours with minimal supervision aboard the Scratching Post. And-.

The ships disappear, reappearing almost at once in the part of the system I indicated.

Ring?

Readings acquired.

And we're out of here. A perfect spatial fracture jump this time, since I'm not trying to fool anyone. Karna disappears from my view and its star is reduced to an even smaller dot. No more warp interdiction?

None found.

Drop phase and warp. Space buckles. Right, I want to know what system they're in before I show up there. Since wherever they are is going to be a military installation, they aren't going to be as open to a dialogue as the inhabitants of Scratching Post were. I need to follow their course. Would they use multiple jumps to try and throw off tracking, or do one at maximum speed? Don't know.

The warp ends with me at the very outskirts of the Liot'r system, 'up' the galactic plane from where Felicity and I arrived. Ring, scan for Tearing Bite warship trails.

Matches found. Displaying.

O… Kay… If we eliminate… What Tamaran's records tell me was the direction of the main Citadel attack during the war… The raids I know about prior to that… And compare what's left with the detected leaving times from the Tamarus observatory… I have a probable vector. Ring, warp.

Compliance.

A blur of orange, then the Liot'r system disappears and is replaced by… A star whose Tamaranean name translates as 'Cold Fire'. Two gas giants, a triple handful of moons. Ring?

No signs of habitation detected.

I open my empathic vision up to the highest extent… No, nothing here. Trail detected?

Displaying.

Warp.

A flare of orange, then-.

Phase!

A confused moment as I fly through a device… Ring, that was a mine, wasn't it?

Confirmed. Standard pattern Gordanian spatial disruptor mine.

Oh… Gosh, there's a lot of them. Good.. thing I can phase. Ring, are they picking me up?

No signs of detection detected.

Ho-hoo good. Ring, detect approximate edge of the minefield. Also, make a note to drop out of warp a good five light-seconds early from now on.

Compliance.

Mining space isn't a great idea. Unless you have reason to believe you know exactly where the other fellow is going to appear. And if you're following someone and your sensors aren't quite up to power ring specifications, the logical thing to do is appear as close as you can to where they went.

That…

Ring, trace?

Acquired.

Is it going to one of the possible systems?

Confirmed.

Right. Wait until we're far enough away from the mines to phase in, then warp to… Interstellar space outside that system.

Compliance.

One jump to nowhere of significance, another to a minefield. I didn't see any detection equipment in the first system, but the residue was weaker. Running quiet? It would work on a lot of ship-based sensor systems. And if they picked something up… I'm just lucky that those were Gordanian mines. That's… Something I really want to learn somewhere where the other fellow might make a mistake.

Distance reached.

A tunnel of orange light around me… And back into normal space. Scan the system.

The image appears in my mind. One huge gas giant, not too hopeful… There. Much further in, there's a super-Earth sized rocky planet with… One large moon and a fleet of ships. I'm not… Getting particularly good resolution. Focus. I need to do this in order to fix this place. Thank you. Okay, Tearing Bite ships confirmed… And… That's Citadelian. Not a huge surprise. There's a structure on the planet… And it's blocking my scans. Could be magic, but since the only magic users around here come from Euphorix… Probably Psion instead.

That… Would be expensive. And probably something I could brute force… If I didn't mind telling everyone down there that a Lantern was looking at them. No point using optical detection, not at this distance. Ring, any interdiction fields?

Confirmed. However, they are currently only spread across a small area around the planet.

But… Can almost certainly be expanded at will.

Unable to confirm.

I try empathic vision, but at this distance it's basically just showing me a single spot of light.

Okay. I need to find out what's going on. How best to go about this?

 

13th July
03:47 GMT

The picket fleet moves away as my Hellwraith approaches Hny'xx. Obviously, the people here know that there are Construct Lanterns around the place, and thanks to me and the Okaarans they have half an idea of who they report to. Having shown it to Admiral Dakyn just having it drift in as it was would have been a give-away, but it occurred to me that if it could move between tangible and ghostly and if… If Teekl could move between Felis Catus and Panthera Leo at will then the Hellwraith should be a bit more mutable. It's currently much larger than it was, and its harder outer body parts have now expanded into something that looks more like techno-organic armour. I also moved the sigil to his… To its chest, because while I don't know exactly how Citadelians or Gordanians process images I know that a Human would be far faster to associate it with me if the sigil were in the same place.

Perceiving the ships from the Hellwraith's viewpoint is… Odd. I've become used to the Praexis Demon viewpoint, which is a bit like a low-intelligence Fallout playthrough. So much of the meaning and complexity is stripped out. The Hellwraith is… Not like that. It has Human equivalent intelligence, but taking its viewpoint makes the things it's interested in -people it can possess and souls it can eat- far more… Apparent. It can already taste the tiny amounts of shaped magic held within the ship's crew. Their souls. I get the impression that it isn't used to that; this system is just so mystically inert that there's nothing to confuse the scent.

A triangular Psion ship rises up from an opening on the planet's surface, thrusters burning brilliantly. I nod to myself as the Hellwraith surges downwards towards it. Having it possess a Psion might give me the information I want, otherwise that looks like the best entry point.

Ring, are they talking about us?

Confirmed. Pertinent data intercepts available.

Play.

"You better have a good explanation for this, Tront. This location is supposed to be undetectable to Lanterns!"

Only one clan has ships here, so that must be Trogaar. Marking ship.

"Clan commander, I assure you that there is no way for the Green Lantern Corps to detect us without violating our treaty. Whether these things are truly some form of independent construct or something else entirely, they have been drifting through the Vega Systems for some time now. For millennia, if Okaaran records are to be believed. Whatever it wants here-."

"I'll destroy it. Ships, close-."

"No."

That one is Citadelian. Except when altered by injury their voices are the same as one another, for obvious reasons. The second voice was probably Psion as I can't imagine a Gordanian or a Citadelian saying things like that.

"Admiral, why?!"

"Unless you have stolen something from Okaara and brought it here, that thing has no reason to be interested in this place. Did you see the recording of what happened last time Gordanians engaged the Beast's slaves?"

The Psion ship changes orientation so that its underside faces the Hellwraith. The housing around some sort of projector array… Hm. The closest thing on record is a device Psions are known to use in order to assess the strength of Green Lantern constructs. Logical, and if they'd scanned a construct being directly projected by Larfleeze it might give them meaningful data. But Construct-Lanterns channel the orange light themselves. In theory, the readings mine give and the readings his give should be the same.

Rays of green light lash out and play over its skin… Hellwraith, consume them.

"I hear and obey."

The beams flicker, weaken… And the array generating them sparks and smoulders before shutting down.

"That was… Unexpected."

"Can we shoot it now?"

The Hellwraith can dimly perceive the force field protecting the heavy blast doors covering the place the Psion ship emerged from. Scan… Yeah, not a good idea to try phasing through that. I'm not sure if the form of intangibility the Hellwraith uses would be affected…

"No. See? It stops. The facility remains inviolate."

"And it's staying."

The area the force field covers gives me an approximate idea of how large whatever facility they have under there is. And it's.. big, underground skyscraper sort of size. And if the force field goes all of the way around… Then the phase protection will as well.

"Admiral. Clan Commander. Can you not see what a unique opportunity this is? We could study-."

"No. No delays and no threats. I don't know if the Beast will come if we destroy it, but the Emperor requires that I not take the risk."

"If it's going to be here anyway, what possible harm is there in taking a closer look? I may have to… Rebuild slightly-."

"The Orange Lantern. The one who was on Rashashoon." Hm. Looks like they reported the incident at least. "We get him to remove it."

…

What?

"You want to bring a Lantern here?"

"That thing is already here. The Beast will want him more than it wants us. And you were certain a moment ago that the facility was still secure."

"… Yes? Within… Bounds… I don't know enough about his abilities to swear an oath upon it… And if he was right here…"

"Since he heard that the Beast's power comes from a power ring, the Emperor expressed an interest in acquiring them. Imagine a legion of Citadel warriors armed with the very thing that the only force capable of opposing us thinks is their trump."

"I… Don't believe that my people would object to the chance to study a power ring directly. The green ones have a tendency to be… Uncooperative. Still… It seems…"

"Maybe he gets rid of the Beast Slave and goes on his way. Maybe he gets rid of it and the Beast goes after him. And if the Beast goes after him, maybe we send some people into the Beast's lair. Maybe we talk to him and he agrees to work with us. Maybe he doesn't, and we kill him and take his rings." There's a pause. "I'm not asking you, Tront. This comes from the Emperor, and if it works..."

"We all get everything we want. Do you know where this person is?"

"Somewhere in Vega. Word has already gone out. We'll find him."

I just about manage not to laugh. Oh, this is…

Okay, so they're going to have a lot of anti-Lantern weapons. But… I need to get in. And I'm perfectly happy to betray any deal I make with them.

Of course… Taking Citadel Complex… Somehow… Branding the Emperor… That could work… I'd effectively get control of the largest and best organised military force in Vega. They could crush the Gordanian fleet around Karna. Hardly ideal, but at least they're a military target. Issue a code of conduct for every pirate group hoping to trade here, and with a clone army… I could bring in Genomorphs to fast-educate them while they were still growing. Forget the Controllers, I could get an army of custom-built mystic Lanterns who are born knowing everything about the orange light that I do, sharing my outlook.

No. Just… Too many things I don’t know, too much that can go wrong. I'll focus on rescuing the Tamaraneans. And to do that, I need to be somewhere visible.

Ring, where would the Okaarans record their Larfleeze sightings?

 

13th July
07:02 GMT

"…than we're used to, ever since the Slaves flew out of the Forbidden Forest of Weeds last year." The elderly Okaaran leading me through the record vaults appears to be pleased with the idea. "It's nice to know that we can do something more than teach people how to kill each other."

I was a little nervous about being on the same planet as Larfleeze, but.. really… Distance shouldn't change how easily he can detect me. "Do the challengers ever come here?"

"No. You're the first. I should tell you, I have placed a modest wager on your success."

"Thank you. Your confidence-."

"Not that big a wager. I simply thought that I should do something to acknowledge your foresight. Ah." He comes to a stop in front of a tall shelf of binders. "Here we are. Order-" He points to the top left. "-chronological, or I can fetch you the index. Or you could just ask me, I should be able to find whatever you're looking for."

"All on paper?"

A quiet dejected snort. "During the time of X'Hal, electromagnetic bursts and datavore programs destroyed much of our older computer-based record-keeping system. We went back to paper partially from necessity and partly because… It's safer, if access to certain types of information is restricted."

I nod, looking up at the starting point. "So, what's the order?"

"Start at the top left, work down, then up to the start of the next column."

"Right." I float up, reaching for the first binder. "Are there any actual sightings of the Beast himself recorded here?"

"Some. Supposedly. None that I would consider reliable." I nod as I open the binder. "So… It was a power ring all along."

"You don’t sound particularly surprised." Ring, no one wants to read it in Elizabethan English, even if that is more authentic. Thank you.

"Glowing translucent objects? Power rings were a perennial guess. Never proven. Until now."

"I'll try and get the full story from the Guardians for you." The folder appears to be a record of myths, Okaaran folk tales about the Forbidden Forest of Weeds. I'm really just… Doing this because I want to be somewhere I might credibly need to be and where people can find me. Ring, scan this stuff, but… Don’t load it into my head.

Compliance.

"What do modern Okaarans think about it?"

"Prior to your arrival, I think most of us assumed that it was some sort of automated-"

"He's down there!"

"-weapon… System." He looks around at the direction of the shouting. I don’t. That was a pretty fast reaction time, given the difficulties involved for them. "Perhaps a storage vault for radiological materials that was designed to scare people away. Inasmuch as-"

Three Gordanians in the heavy armour of their soldiers… With the Tearing Bite insignia on their shoulders, jog into view.

"-we thought about it at all." My guide brings himself up to his full height, his good humour evaporating. "What are you doing here?"

The Gordanian on the left bares his teeth, only to be cuffed by the one in the middle. Lefty glowers at Middle, but backs down as Middle takes another step forwards. "Orange Man. You have business with my Clan Commander."

They probably don't know Human expression well enough for my pantomime of innocence to matter, but I make the effort anyway. "I do? What sort of business?"

"Profitable business."

"That's a little vague." I put the folder back onto the shelf and float down to their level. "Could you be more specific? I've… Got data to gather-."

"There's a secure communicator at our transport. You want details, you use that and talk to him directly."

"Well…" I shrug. "If you insist…"

Ring, where is their transport?

An image appears in my mind. Looks like a… Somewhat modified Branx command lander. I turn to the librarian. "Thank you for your help. I'll return once I've dealt with this."

"In your own time." He attempts a smile. It does not sit well on his mouth. "I have so many questions."

Middle Gordanian huffs at me. "We'll show you-."

Transition.

I appear next to the lander, the four Gordanians on guard bringing their weapons to bear almost immediately. Looks like Zaark was right about their equipment. "I believe you're expecting me?"

There's a delay while they look at each other, uncertain how to respond. I'm forced to wonder if Middle was the group's only NCO. Then the one closest to the lander's door bangs his left fist into the door control, the door opening in response. "This way."

I follow him inside. The lander isn't particularly large, no bigger in total than a large passenger aeroplane from Earth. The secure communication station is -Mass Effect flashback- just off the command station in a small vestibule. I take a seat as my escort steps back and a force field appears across the entrance.

"Someone ask for me?"

There's a momentary noise of static, then a screen lights up with the face of a grizzled-looking Gordanian. "Orange Lantern. I am Clan Commander Trogaar. I have a job for you."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"I know that you have purchased Tamaraneans. I have several hundred with advanced technical skills." He leans forwards slightly. "I offer them to you, if you perform a service for me."

"I… Might be interested." Recovering them alive is good anyway, and the more who have useful skills the faster Tamaran can rebuild. "As I told Zaark, I don't know what the market-."

"Spare me your merchantist bartering. Do you want them?"

"As opposed to..?"

"They all die at the completion of their project."

"And… How long..?"

"Less than a Gordanian lunar month. The Psions are already making noise about vivisecting the less useful ones."

"In.. that case, I'm interested. What do you want in return?"

"Admiral Drolyk wants me to ask you to remove one of the Beast's slaves from his facility without bringing the Beast down on our heads. I don't. I want a power ring, like you have."

Hardly surprising, but… "May I ask, why?"

"I am made for war. I want to be able to fight without relying on other species, other Vega powers. I will use it to conquer the other clans, cast down the Citadel and then..? The universe is the limit."

"That's not exactly in line with my wider aims…"

"I fight. Whatever you are trying to do, you will need a fleet to enforce your will. Ensure that my guns never cool, and I will be pleased to fight under your banner."

Yeah, right.

"Well… I can certainly get rid of that Construct Lantern for you. Whereabouts are you?"

 

13th July
07:55 GMT

Four Gordanian soldiers escort me towards… Some sort of room. It isn't the bridge or the generator room or the primary drive… It actually doesn't appear to be linked to any of the ship's critical systems. Some sort of..? Meeting room, then? The soldiers' armour is well wrought and well maintained, their weapons… Both more powerful and more sophisticated than those used by their fellows stationed on Scratching Post.

Gordanians don't exactly wear power armour, but the cuirass has a flight pack and low penetration sensor system built in. The data I have so far makes it clear that they don't like fighting in the air in the way that Thanagarians do; they lack the Nth metal augmented nervous system that Thanagarians have and the brain matter that comes from flying for your entire evolutionary history. The result is more like Starship Trooper style mobile infantry. Or like Titanfall. They jump from place to place, then take cover and fire. In addition to the armour covering their torsos and legs, they have helmets and bracers which mount their melee weapons. It provides good protection while minimising the degree to which it impedes their range of motion and the quantity of upkeep it requires.

The group who found me on Okaara did offer to fly me to the Clan Commander's location, but I turned it down on the grounds that waiting for them to prepare and then make the journey would take hours. Stars in Vega are relatively close together, but even the Gordanian military doesn't use FTL systems that are all that fast. I suppose that they.. either don't see the point, or they prefer simpler and easier to maintain systems for their main combat fleet. This ship might be less technologically sophisticated than the Spider Guild's ship, but it looks a good deal more shipshape to me. Clean lines of sight, mechanisms tucked away neatly… Gordanians might not be the greatest technologists the universe has ever seen, but they do get taught basic starship engineering.

Anyway, I came right here and was floating in space for a little while before an appreciable chunk of clan Tearing Bite's military dropped out of FTL and sent a welcome message. The Clan Commander wasn't going to greet me at the airlock, but he does want to talk to me in person. And judging by the fact that the ship hasn't gone back to FTL yet, he wants to do so before Admiral Drolyk gets the chance to talk to me. Makes sense. I doubt that the Citadel are eager for their principal supporter to suddenly supersede them.

The lead Gordanian strikes the door release with his right fist. "The Lantern's here, Clan Commander."

There's a pause, then a clank as the door mechanism releases. The next room is… Richly decorated. I see Trogaar himself first. He's wearing a slightly more ornate version of the armour that the others wear, though it only covers the same amount of his body. His helmet on the other hand… I'm going to assume that it's ceremonial. It looks a bit like something a samurai might have worn, a segmented shawl to cover the back and sides of the head with a solid face covering and four upturned metal spines for decoration. It's currently sitting on the table next to him. The man himself is slouched in an armchair. The back of the chair is curious in that it only goes halfway across. Gordanian tails are far too thick to do what Felicity does and curl therm around themselves, and I suppose that cutting a tail hole out of the back would make sitting down in the first place rather awkward.

Off to the side there's a transparent map of the Vega systems broken into three… Approximately accurate planes, one sheet per plane. If you look at it from straight on you get a two-dimensional map, then if you look from an angle you get something a little more accurate. Across from Trogaar there are three less ornate seats which… Heh, they're designed for someone of Gordanian stature but to also be just a little too low. Their occupants will almost always be shorter than him when everyone is sitting down. The walls are decorate with weapons, though rather than the cutting edge pieces I was expecting they're all… Broken. Not completely, but there's a plasma pulse gun that's clearly had a critical overload, a disruption blade that's had two of its tines broken off…

"Do you like the weapons?" I turn my gaze back to the Commander. "I haven't managed to keep hold of every weapon I have personally worked to death, but this is most of them. Each one met its end in glorious combat. Most of my people would have tossed them aside or salvaged what they could from them, but to me they are simply too much a part of my life to discard."

"My species often keep mementoes in the same way. Though my own colleagues were more inclined to take trophies from their enemies rather than their own expended equipment."

"No. I considered it when I was much younger, but rotting heads aren't hygienic. And skulls just start to look… Samey." The other Gordanians don't bother following me in as the door slams shut. "But these? I could tell you the cause of every scratch."

"But.. that's.. not what we're meeting to talk about today." I gesture to the chairs opposite him with my left hand. "May I sit down?"

"Probably."

I nod and walk over to the middle of the three, then turn and sit. "So… Where are we going?"

"Right now? Nowhere."

"I was under the impression that there was a degree of urgency..?"

"Not for me." He flares his nostrils. "It's a Citadelian facility. Some sort of secret project."

"That makes me curious."

"I just provide security and workers."

"Workers?"

"They're not keeping the Tamaraneans down there for entertainment. Not all of them, anyway. They won't tell me exactly why they want them, but since those are what my clan has, they're what we provide." Another snort. "Your species looks a lot like them. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were one!"

"I'm afraid not. Do you know how many Tamaraneans there are at… Wherever it is we're talking about?"

"Maybe… Two thousand? Most of them were taken during the war. The Citadel want people who know machinery. Heh, because they're too stupid to do things like that themselves!"

Hm. I can't tell when someone is lying to me all of the time, but… No, empathic vision isn't showing me anything helpful. "You really don't know what they're building?"

"They've been working on it since the end of the war. Maybe it's another shipyard or something, I don't know." He leans slightly forwards. "I see you've already got two rings."

"Yes, but I can't give any away until after the Beast is dealt with."

"You're hiding yourself, like the Psions are the base?"

"Better. But don't tell them that."

He leans back slightly. "You do know that now everyone knows what he is, that he's a Lantern… People will go to Okaara to kill him. They'll go properly equipped to kill Lanterns. And I don't think that the first few teams will get him, but after a while… People with serious resources will try it. You don't have all that long while the thing you can do is so special."

"Feel like taking a swing at him yourself?"

"If I did, I wouldn't bother talking to you. I know power rings. I know what they let their wielders do. If Psions could beat Lanterns so easily, they'd be out there fighting them… No, they'd be having people like me do it for them. So it's probably going to be brave idiots carrying weapons for the people who'll get all the benefit. Now, I know the Citadel are going to make you an offer. Heh, because there's no other way they're getting a look in. Psions probably will as well. But I will tell you with no word of a lie: the Citadel Emperor will not follow you. He'll backstab you the first chance he gets. He wants to rule everything more than he wants anything else."

"And the Psions? They sound like useful people to know."

"They're smart. And they'll cut you up for parts the first chance they get. That's what they do whenever someone starts trying to copy their technology, and if they get a pile of power rings? Same thing. Heck, they'll probably want to analyse you to see if there's anything special that lets you do it. What do you think your chances of avoiding ending up on a slab in one of their laboratories are?"

"Better than average. But… There's always room for improvement."

"I want to fight. I don't care about ruling. I don't even rule my own clan now, and I probably could. There are thousands of Green Lanterns, and I am sure that they will try to stand against any power arising from Vega. You want dependable help? You want an army? A fleet? You won't find one in Vega better than what I can offer." He stands and walks towards the door. "Consider that when the others make their pitches."

 

13th July
09:36 GMT

Alert: ship has exited spatial fracture and is heading toward Hny'xx.

Thank you. Any change in the disposition of the other ships?

An image appears in my mind. There's a cordon around where the Hellwraith is floating, but other than that it looks like everyone has returned to business as usual. I nod to myself, then rise to my feet. At this point I can probably fly in-system myself without giving anything much away about my capab-.

Cream coloured light manifests around the Clan Commander's throne, shifting and writhing in an approximate uneven sphere. I step back, construct armour appearing around my body. Okay, there's a few things that could be-.

There's a crackle of… Purple lightning? From the area inside the sphere, then something flies-. I grab the object with a construct claw. A.. metal cylinder, containing… Complicated circuitry which… Doesn't appear to do anything, some plant matter and what looks like cultured meat. There's also a small repulsor drive-.

It jerks, trying to get out of my grip. Still not sure what's going on I let it go, watching as it flies back to its origin point and disappear. Right, some sort of teleportation system and… A test sample. Testing to make sure that it's safe to send things through. Ring, prepare to destroy anything that comes through looking threatening.

Compliance.

And armour, obviously.

Compliance.

No alert from the ship yet. Technology this advanced implies Psion, as anyone else who could teleport things onto someone else's ship would use it to cut a swathe through Vega's other powers. Could be an outside force… Qwardians would be the worst-.

The cream orb flexes inwards then opens up, revealing a Psion in utilitarian purple overalls. He takes a moment to examine his surroundings. "Ah. A success."

"Can I help you?"

The cream light peels away, forming a backdrop for him as he sits in the Clan Commander's chair. His eyes are.. curiously Human, though the decorative head crenulations are a little odd. "I think it's more about what we can do for one another."

"You think that I can help you get orange power rings."

"It would be nice, but I am… Prepared to set my sights a little lower. We Psions aren't really the.. stomping around and conquering types. Oh, and may I say? That was a rather nice stratagem with the construct. Forcing the Admiral to call you in?"

I frown slightly. "I thought it was one of Larfleeze's..?"

"Too convenient. You buy a group of Tamaranean slaves from that Gordanian outpost and then a short time later a construct slave arrives in a system holding Tamaranean slaves… In a system which The Beast-. I'm sorry, which Larfleeze's slaves have already bypassed? It might have been him, but it's far more likely to have been you."

"There's a certain logic to the assumption."

"Of course, we don't really have enough data to reach a firm conclusion. So I don't feel the need to report my suspicions to the Admiral."

"Good of you."

"The question remains, then, why are you here? The Gordanians would be happy to gather more slaves for you and I'm certain that a Lantern could acquire technically skilled workers elsewhere. Puzzling."

"Are you going somewhere..?"

"The Spiders think that you're working for the Guardians in some fashion. I think that unlikely. A Guardian operative wouldn't have handed that fascinating construct-resistant woman over to us."

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want what the Guardians have: agents throughout the universe bringing me information and technology. I want a power ring for the challenge it poses to my intellect and the convenience of making my own constructs. And what I offer in return is Psion analytics and technology. Not every challenge can be overcome with brawn."

"Do you think you can do those things better than the Maltusians?"

"Aaaah." He thinks for a moment. "Pride demands that I say 'yes'. But… Honesty demands I say 'no'. However, I imagine that they would want a controlling share in exchange for their help. In fact, if another Maltusian group were like the Guardians… I doubt that they'd demand less than absolute sovereignty. We Psions would regard it simply as an improvement on our relationship with the Citadel; run your organisation as you wish."

"Without more personal lanterns, it would be a crippled organisation."

"I understand your concern, but I'm certain that -given time- we could-." He blinks, then the cream light moves to cover him once more. "Perhaps we could continue this later."

There's a crackle of purple lightning again, then the cream light collapses in on itself.

About four seconds before the room's main screen lights up with the Citadelian Admiral's face. "Orange Lantern! So good of you to come!" His eyes narrow slightly. "Such fine looking armour you have. You simply must give me the name of your armourer."

"It's an artisan piece. I'm not sure you could persuade them to make a suit for you."

"Pity. Trogaar has explained the situation?"

"You want the Construct Lantern removed. It's doable. For a price."

"I wouldn't dream of insulting you by suggesting that you work for free. I also want to talk to you about your rings."

"Naturally."

"No doubt Trogaar has made his approach already. Fie, I say! What is a fleet compared to the power of a Lantern Corps?"

"Depends on the fleet."

"The Citadel is prepared to compensate you well for assisting us in exterminating the Beast of Okaara and taking control of his possessions. We have a history of working well with aliens and being true to our word. Assist us, and as our Empire spreads you would be second only to the Emperor in power and influence. Navies to serve under your command. Worlds, yours, their people to do with as you pleased."

"Generous, but… I have… Concerns, about the capacity of most Citadelians to make use of power rings. Yourself, your implants… I'm sure that you could cope, but the common infantry-."

"And no doubt you have concerns about our numbers. Some sort of nonsense about.. the constant cloning causing some sort of genetic decay. Hm?"

"The First Citadelian was by all surviving accounts an extremely intelligent man. His descendants aren't. Your numbers have been constant for a very long time and you need cybernetic implants to become intelligent."

"True. All true. But like any other people we are capable of change. It is fortuitous that you are here. When you are done with that construct-thing, come into the base to speak with me in person. I have something to show you that I think you will find very interesting."

 

13th July
10:02 GMT

My escort peels off as I enter the Admiral's office… No, more of a lounge, really. The Admiral himself grins broadly as he turns his attention away from a screen showing me come up behind my Hellwraith and 'overpower' it, sucking it into the ring.

"I had assumed that it would be somewhat more complicated. No? Or is it a matter of personal skill?"

He's lounging comfortably on a… It looks a bit like a chaise longue, something he could be comfortable lying or sitting on. There are five other Citadelians in the room in a similar state of repose. No weapons or armour. Unusual.

"Something like that. If Larfleeze had been concentrating on that particular Construct-Lantern, things could have been a good deal more… Complicated. Fortunately, he wasn't."

"And if he had been?"

"Then… It would have been a contest. His needs against mine." I take another look at his companions. They seem a little more attentive than other Citadelians I've encountered. I can't see outward signs of cybernetics… Worth the risk of a scan..? "Unless it was controlled by someone else, of course." He tilts his head slightly as the rings feed me all information on the other Citadelians that they can gather passively. "I mean, if I can use an orange ring for an extended period while remaining free of the Beast's influence, it would be foolish of me to assume that I'm the only one."

"Wise of you. Though if you'll forgive me, perhaps not something you want to announce to the other party in a negotiation?"

"I doubt that your Emperor would be best pleased if I negotiated in bad faith."

"No, but you aren't obliged to tell us things until we are formally allied." He turns his head aside, looking towards a doorway. "May I offer you a drink? I was maintaining a reserve of.. quality product, but since our work here is nearly done we may as well finish it."

The other Citadelians aren't showing any of the usual symptoms of cybernetic grafts… The Admiral does… Skin pigmentation suggests that they're younger… Though that's not a precise guide…

"Thank you."

"Anything in particular?"

"Surprise me."

"Htcha!" He grins. "I should think I can manage that." He presses a concealed button on his chair. "Slave! Nectar of the Abyss, two glasses, twenty seconds!"

I wait for a moment, then frown. "Twenty..? Seconds..?"

"Yes, this may interest you. If there's one technology we Citadelians know, it's cybernetic neural interfaces. We-" The doorway he waved at opens and a Tamaranean woman in a ragged dress walks in, her eyes locked directly ahead of her and two large glasses containing a murky dark grey liquid balanced on a tray in her hands. "-have been experimenting on our… Excess labour pool." The woman stops next to him, standing completely still with her eyes still not wandering. He reaches a hand up and takes the closest glass before nodding at the other. "Take it."

I extend three filaments, lifting the glass from the tray. Ring, chemical analysis? Oh. Well, it's… Not toxic as long as I wear a power ring. I take the glass in my right hand and raise it to him in a toast. "Your health."

"Oh, no." He takes a snip. "There's nothing in here good for my health."

I smile and sip-. Oh it tastes like a horrible combination of raw fish and coal! Ring, facial expression!

Compliance.

Uraghuraghuragh!

"The world will seem so much better when we reach the bottom of our glasses. Slave, put down the tray." She bends her legs, lays the tray flat on the ground and then stands up again. And again, without looking around. "Twelve seconds, good."

The woman gasps, her eyes widening for a moment. Then she collapses, curling up on the ground and breathing heavily.

"What.. did.. you..?"

"A simple conditioning technique. Some slave masters use punishment and kindness to train their slaves. Citadelians are not kind. A few wires here, and the slave experiences terror or agony. A few wires there, ecstatic pleasure. Far simpler."

I…

I picture… Very clearly… Cutting him in half with a construct blade and.. not quite killing him immediately.

"That… Seems like an unusual expenditure of resources…"

"True… But I can't spend all day raping them. Even we Citadelians only have so much endurance. Up, slave. Five seconds."

I-. I'm not red, anger. When I am confronted by the horrors of the universe I rejoice-

The woman pushes herself up slightly with her right hand twitching as she tries to get her feet under her.

-for when I am done there will be one less.

Five seconds.

"Ooooowwwaaaagh!"

The woman collapses again, twitching spasmodically and exhaling a constant crying moan.

"Is..? This what this facility is for? Better slave indoctrination?"

"No. Quite the opposite. Better Citadelian indoctrination."

"I didn't think that the Citadelians were at all remiss in brutalising those who stand against them?"

"When they created the First Citadelian, the Psions used any number of.. additives, to alter the way his Branx and Okaaran components melded together. Then X'Hal levelled their laboratory -and most of their cities- and their records were lost."

"You're trying to reverse engineer it."

"Oh, no. Interfering with the First's body is… Unthinkable. But learning to duplicate their work is a desirable objective. My friends here-" He gestures to the room. "-are better. Not on a par with the First, but far more capable than our usual neonates."

"Wise, but why tell me? And why hide it? I'd be surprised if everyone didn't already assume that you'd be trying something like this."

"Why conceal it? Timing. We don't want anyone to have time to prepare themselves. Why tell you?" He takes another sip. "I want to show you that we're genuine. The Citadel will rule, not through proxies as we do now, but directly."

"And the Gordanians?"

He leans back. "They can make themselves useful. We will still pay for their services. But they will no longer be… Essential."

I nod. "I'd… Like to inspect your facilities. I need to be certain that you can actually deliver."

"That can happen. If you hand over one of your rings as security."

"I'll do better than that. I understand that the Citadel has recently acquired two Tamaranean princesses?" A momentary expression of mild surprise and curiosity passes over his face. "If you would be prepared to give them to me..." I take the Ceebiss ring out of a pouch on my armour's torso. "I would be quite happy to give you this ring in return."

 

13th July
10:24 GMT

"…precise chemical mix to ensure that the optimal…"

The facility may be shielded against power rings from the outside, but the inside is wide open.

"…pseudo-telepathic induction, but with future generations we can simply use…"

A passing touch on one of the 'new-type' Citadelians tells me that they're genetically identical to the old type. They haven't made improvements to the genome. The brain structure looked more or less the same, but I don't have a wide variety of samples to compare him to.

"…education. At this point that's really all they're good for, beyond our recreational..."

More.. implanted Tamaraneans. They're not doing menial work. That's all been automated. Rather, they're demonstrating particular points of knowledge. An older, heavily scarred Tamaranean man delivers a lecture on strategy while another with two skeletal cybernetic arms gives one on battlefield medicine. Mostly male, I note. I'm not sure whether the Citadelians are really chauvinistic or not, but… If they're increasing the size of their local population and.. want more.. entertainment…

"…pods, but there is still a hard limit on how rapidly they can be grown. Once we move into the open…"

I didn't see any evidence that they'd dumped the bodies outside. If.. Tamaraneans built this place then there should be a far larger number than in evidence so far. I risk a general area scan and note their positions.

"…particularly proud of."

The Admiral waits while the control system for a large vault confirms his identity, then the huge and heavily reinforced doors slide open and he leads the way through. The… Vast, aircraft hangar like chamber beyond… It reminds me a little of the room in which Kon and I found Match. Row upon row of liquid-filled tanks piled up at least twelve high, techno-organic tubes needing into the partially developed Citadelians within.

"More sophisticated even than the gestation units in the Citadel Complex itself."

I affect an expression of polite interest. "Tamaranean work?"

"Yes, but not their design." He plays with the orange ring in his right hand, appearing momentarily hypnotised by it. For a fleeting moment I notice the same double desire set I saw from his fellow Admiral back on Rashashoon. "We originally tried to copy as near as possible the design the Psions used during the First's creation, but they themselves had improved it since then."

"You have Psions working here? Isn't that a bit of a risk?"

"Only two. They considered-" Two levels above us a Psion is checking a display. He looks down at us, then turns away and heads towards a lift. "-it worth labouring for us in secret in exchange for as many Tamaranean subjects as they could get. Naturally, they can't leave until we are ready to reveal ourselves."

"And then?"

"The Psions are allies. We will stick to the terms of our agreement. Besides, if we kept them here they might decide to try recreating X'Hal. And we could hardly have that." The lift platform descends from the upper level, prompting the Admiral to look around. "Ah, Fon, we were just talking about you."

"Yes, I heard." He looks at me, apparently fascinated. "And an.. Orange Lantern. It seems that I owe Tront a small sum of money."

"You've done some impressive work here." Work I can't let you continue somewhere else. At least there -probably- won't be off-site backups.

"Fon, I'm afraid that I'm going to be ordering the transfer of those two females you wanted to play with."

I see a momentary puff of orange. Frustrated desire, and… Some sort of machine? "That is… Quite inconvenient. The Tamaraneans who work here don't have the solar exposure we need for our studies. This could set us back quite considerably."

"Oh, come now! In a few thousand neegaths' time you can go back to the Wombworld with more than enough credit to set up your own research centre and buy your own subjects."

Fon returns his attention to me. "What do you want with them, anyway?"

Admiral Drolyk throws back his head. "HAHAHAHAHA!"

"Admiral?"

"Is it not obvious?" The Admiral calms down a little. "I realise that you are a creature of pure intellect, but some of us relish the functionality of our genitals!"

Fon's mouth falls open in a Psion expression of distaste. "Really? I am to lose valuable research subjects in order to-? What has he offered you?"

The Admiral strides past him, right hand out flat to the side with the Ceebiss ring sat on his palm.

Dismay. "Ahh. That.. does make sense."

"The Admiral agreed to throw in the rest as a bonus, but I will admit to a particular interest in these two." I shrug. "Sorry."

"Frustrating, but… Very well." We're getting closer to the armoured doors on the other side of the chamber. Fon picks up his pace, jogging out ahead and triggering the door mechanism. "We haven't gotten around to.. tidying them up yet, but it you're prepared to accept them 'as they are', you may as well take them now."

"Thank you."

There's a short passageway between the two rooms, and I wouldn't need a power ring to tell that there are automated defence systems embedded in it. Their teleportation system is probably through here as well. I wonder how they disguise it? The Admiral has to be intelligent enough to know that he can't completely trust them. Then… The whole reason why he's working with the Psions is their technical and scientific brilliance. What sort of monitoring could he use that they couldn't bypass?

The far door opens at Fon's order, opening out onto a clean and sterile laboratory. Actually, it's… Almost featureless. I frown as I have the ring scan-.

"The laboratory is programmable. Everything we need folds away. That way we don't trip over equipment we don't need for whatever experiment we're conducting." Fon heads over to a computer terminal. "Hm. I'll have the drones bring up your… New toys for you."

I think… Yes, I think Alan will let me off on this one.

Fon looks at a piece of machinery that looks like… A quidditch goal, maybe? "I may as well pack some of this for transport if I'm not going to get the chance to use it."

"What's that supposed to do?"

"Make them explode, probably. But we'd learn from exactly when and why they exploded. Ah well." He presses a button and the device powers down. "Perhaps some other time."

A door opens in the side of the room and…

And the Universe 16 versions of Komand'r and Koriand'r. They're barely conscious as the drone-platforms they're strapped to float into the main laboratory, though I can see Komand'r's eyes fluttering as she tries to focus. They're both naked, and I can see dried blood-. Some of their wounds are neat, possibly from the Psions' 'investigations'. The rest, a little older, look like blunt object impacts and.. weapon burns. And some-.

"Well, no matter." The Admiral grins at me. "We can float them up to the surface for you and-."

"I had wondered, given the size difference, how you and your men derived 'entertainment' from them."

"Hah! As the saying goes, 'if brute force doesn’t work, you're not using enough!'"

I nod. "Yes. So I see. Admiral, thank you. As far as I'm concerned you may now put on that ring."

"Excellent!" He grasps it with his left hand and holds out his right. "For the Citadel and the First!"

He slides it onto his middle right finger, orange light flowing over him and his uniform growing an orange sigil on the chest. He holds out his arms to look at the effect, his eyes glowing with orange sigils embedded in his irises.

"The… The power!" He rises into the air, orange lights flickering around his body. "I am equal to the Green Lanterns! The might of the Citadel will cover the universe with me as its greatest warrior, commander and Emperor! I shall be unstoppable!"

And then he explodes.

 

13th July
10:29 GMT

Accelerated perception.

Compliance.

Strands of orange light reach out from the Ceebiss ring to the glowing meat-chunks that used to be Admiral Drolyk, grabbing them and turning them construct-orange. The Admiral's head is largely intact, and I wonder for a moment if he's still aware as the tendrils latch onto it and convert it as well. There's a quiet 'fizz' from my environmental shield as it vaporises the spray of blood that hits me, and a quiet 'splat' as the rest of it splashes against the ground and the astonished Fon.

The incandescent ring floats from Admiral Drolyk's phantasmal finger to the approximate centre point of the explosion as I fly back towards Fon, laying my left hand on his right shoulder.

Hellwraith, possess.

I hunger.

The ring on my left hand shimmers for a half-second, but there's no other outward sign as it flows into its new host.

End acceleration.

Compliance.

Chunks of construct-flesh impact on the floor and walls as I frantically start scanning the princesses. Implants, but not dead man's switched. Ring? Good, disintegrate them and absorb the components.

Compliance.

The chunks of construct-flesh begin rolling across the floor to a point just behind the ring. With every remaining part of the Admiral converted, it keeps glowing. A translucent image begins forming next to it, ghostly hands reaching for the ring and a snarling muzzle baring its teeth at the room.

"More thieves! Everyone tries to take what's mine from me!"

Another blast of light from the ring and Larfleeze's construct-self becomes a little more substantial. Behind him, the Construct-Lantern form of Admiral Drolyk begins pulling itself together. Ring, railguns, load crumbler rounds. And heal the princesses as best you can.

Compliance.

Larfleeze clutches the Ceebiss ring to his chest, his eyes moving briefly over the shuddering Fon before fixing on me. "You! You're already dead!"

"Hello, Larfleeze."

He bends over as if trying to mantle the ring as he uses his left hand to conceal it from me completely. Interesting that he only wears one ring himself. His right hand extends towards me, claws reaching out-. That hand collapses into orange mist as my crumbler round hits it.

"I'm still alive and still stealing from you. And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"No! No! I'm going to find you! I'm going to take everything back! And I'm going to-" He lunges forwards. "-eat you!"

I back up, crumblers striking his face and chest and turning them to orange mist. He falters for a moment, pulling back so that the light from the ring can knit him back together.

Hellwraith, use Fon's knowledge to deactivate the Tamaraneans' implants and deactivate all anti-Lantern measures.

I obey.

Admiral Drolyk has fully pulled himself back together, his eyes glowing orange as he glowers at me. Oh, don't even. You had that coming.

"Tear you apart!"

Larfleeze ignores the possessed Fon in favour of trying to rend me with his talons. Retreat and fire, retreat and fire! Chunks of his body disintegrate, but he keeps trying to come on. Shooting the Ceebiss ring might end the fight and it might blow a circular hole a mile across in this facility and take me and the Tamaraneans with it.

"I'm stealing your stuff, Larfleeze! And you can't tell where I am, can you? Because I'm clever and you're stupid! Stupid Larfleeze! Big stupid-head Larfleeze!"

"Rraaaaaaggghh!" He jerks his right hand forwards, a beam of orange shitshitshit! I raise my hands, generating a construct shield. Can't let him hit me. Or anything else. There are all sorts of power relay systems and potential poisons, to say nothing of him probably being powerful enough to collapse the rock around us. His beam hits my shield and immediately fractures it. I abandon it and create another. Come on, he's a powerful idiot, how do I-?

I stick out my right hand and call my personal lantern out of subspace as filaments reach out from my left arm and reach around my shield to touch his beam.

The Ophidian Feeds.

"You even stole my Ophidian from me!"

"My Ophidian." Orange incandescence flares from my filaments as Larfleeze's beam fades and falters, the excess power flowing into my personal lantern. "You're not very good at this. Maybe you should ask for help?"

Please do that. I can draw power away from him, but-

Sixty two percent power remaining. Sixty one. Sixty.

-it's doing a number on my power reserves and even Larfleeze isn't dumb enough to let me recharge in the middle of a fight.

Larfleeze drops his beam and darts forward again, and I reward him with a crumbler to the face. Okay, this I can work with. Hellwraith?

Anti-Lantern measures no longer function. The chattels are liberated.

Good work. Now jam all local non-Lantern FTL and communications. Trap them around the planet.

I obey.

I load a tungsten round into the railgun, batter Larfleeze with crumblers until there's little left but mist, then shoot the solid metal slug into the Ceebiss ring. It sails backwards out of the Larfleeze cloud and slams into the far wall, prompting me to generate construct barriers around-

Fifty five percent power remaining.

-the princesses just in case. No, no explosion. Larfleeze remanifests, glowers, snarls, and then notices Admiral Drolyk. Yes, yes, come on! Put one and one together and get x>1!

"I know where you are! I'm going to send the entire Corps after you!"

'All the more to steal from you' might put him off or encourage him to come himself. Something else… "I'm too good for you! You'll never send enough! I'll win!"

"RAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!" The Larfleeze projection grabs the Ceebiss ring and stares at it for a moment. "Ceebiss, kill him! New Guy, kill him! EVERYONE, KILL HIM!"

Thank you.

Larfleeze tosses the Ceebiss ring aside. It travels a few metres and then stops in the air. It shimmers orange, then expands outwards into the form of the six legged four armed Centaur-like alien I saw when I tried touching it. The Admiral slams his right fist into his left palm while his partner lands and lowers his head to gore me with his horns.

Okay, don't know exactly how long that gives me… Hellwraith, open every internal door.

I obey.

"See you, Larfleeze."

Three crumbler rounds and his construct image dissolves to nothing just as Ceebiss' horns hit my chest plate.

 

13th July
10:32 GMT

The impact knocks me back, Ceebiss grabbing onto my sides with his upper arms as he tries to shove me into the far wall. I retrain my railguns on his wrists and fire, then pull myself downwards with the ring's flight aura.

"Rueeerh!"

I fly myself feet first between his legs. His front left and middle right hooves manage to stamp on me and there's.. some sort of matter disrupting effect in play, but the fact that I'm moving and he's not flying means that he can't maintain pressure long enough to eat through my armour. Okay, what next? With Larfleeze gone I could theoretically subvert-.

No.

I come upright behind Ceebiss as he tries and fails to arrest his momentum, careening into the far wall face first and managing to dent the metal. I generate construct armour and raise my fists just in time to block a punch from Admiral Drolyk, bracing myself on thin air with the ring's flight aura. His initial swing blocked, Drolyk attempts to grapple me. He certainly.. hasn't.. lost any of the strength that Citadelians are.. infamous for. My railguns shoot Ceebiss in the face as I plant my feet and push back, construct muscle straining against my armour's synthetic musculature. Ceebiss… Some sort of ultra-fine construct barrier appears around him as he remembers that Lanterns can fly and turns himself around. Did his equipment get assimilated with him?

All internal doors open, master.

Good show. Now sound the evacuation alarms.

I obey.

Drolyk pulls his head back, prompting me to drop my construct armour and activate my armour's kinetic barrier. He slams his forehead forwards, pale blue light flaring for a moment as its force vanishes. I bring a railgun to bear on his right hand and fire, the appendage and part of his chest behind it collapsing into a cloud of orange. I plant my feet and pull my right arm back, then punch him directly in the face. His grip on my left side loosens and I yank it free. Ah, no, I can't hang around.

I reach across my chest with my right arm and draw the Sword of the Fallen. I had thought about not bringing it at all, but… The risks of needing it rather outweighed those of somehow losing it. Can't see a ring inside him… I slash at his chest, but he flies backwards out of range and Ceebiss is coming up behind me.

I need to get this finished!

I sidestep before Ceebiss hits me, pulling myself around with the ring's flight aura and stabbing the Sword into his flank. The construct.. material just parts around the blade-

"Raaaaahhhhh!"

-in a way which apparently is quite painful.

"Woooawh. Woooawh."

The alarms start sounding as I create a jump pack construct and thrust myself onto Ceebiss' back. He twists, trying to reach me or toss me off but I grab his left horn with my left hand, yank his head back and slice through his neck with the Sword. All the way through, as he doesn't bleed or breathe. As the head comes free the body beneath me disintegrates into vapour, then vanishes entirely. The head similarly decays as I toss it aside and generate construct armour-

Fifty three percent power remaining.

-in time to block a shot from Drolyk's construct gun. My railguns return fire, vaporising his face and a chunk of his torso. The rest of him stays stuck together well enough for me to trigger my jump pack and slam into it with the Sword outstretched. The blade pierces him directly through the sigil on his chest. Done? His arms and legs begin falling apart as I pull the sword free. Good, good.

I drop the railguns, the barriers around the princesses and my construct armour. Right. Filaments fly away from my body and dart throughout the facility as I-. Right, they need clothes. A quick burst of orange light and I fabricate body suits based on Kon's solar infusion design. Don’t know if it will.. help…

My lantern appears from subspace.

"This is my cause, this is my fight."

The filaments reach the inhabited parts of the facility, the Citadelians making a hurried but orderly evacuation and utterly ignoring their chattels. Education, prisoner storage…

"Shine through the void with orange light."

Filaments make contact with the Tamaraneans and transition them into the nearby gestation chamber. Service and… 'Entertainment'.

"I've claimed all within my sight."

Oh, I hadn't… There aren't anything like as many as I.. hoped that there would be. Technical and kitchens.

"To keep what is mine, that is my right."

"Recharge complete." / "Recharge complete."

I send my lantern back into subspace as I lift the princesses from their drone platforms, flying the three of us down the corridor into the gestation chamber. A sea of bewildered orange faces turn to greet me as I land, more appearing every second.

"Could I have your attention for a moment, please! Your implants have been deactivated and in a moment or two we will be escaping." Less than a hundred left to come. Come on! "Please remain calm and above all avoid panicking. If any of you have medical experience, please see to the injured."

A few look around at that, zeroing in on those who aren't able to stand on their own. Not much they can really do for them at the moment. There are additional flares of yellow as a handful recognise the princesses. Ten, three, none! Yes!

Hellwraith, kill your host and get back into the ring.

I obey.

Three thousand three hundred and twenty nine Tamaraneans. In.. terms of mass, well within my ability to transport. Good job orange rings don't require confidence.

Orange light spreads throughout the group, and…

Transition.

I ignore the screams as my passengers realise that we're in space, just behind Hny'xx's moon. I picked this location in order to-.

Oh…

I feel it in my soul as the Construct Corps arrives. Orange light… Twisted… Compressed. More flares of yellow from the ships as they try to find out what's happening and then find that their communication systems and FTL drives are non-functional. I feel a cluster of lights blink out as the Orange Corps frenziedly tear through the ship, and the ring picks up the radiation spikes as the ships open fire. Can't feel Larfleeze himself, so… Yay me. I guess.

Okay, can't take these people back to Tamaran. There's too much risk that the Gordanians present will spot me or them. Transitioning is a risk. Larfleeze can't detect me directly, but ambient orange light and visible light are both well within the abilities of his slaves to notice. But a warp will probably be too generic to notice, as space is warped by the ring rather than by a distant construct. Or at least to notice quickly. I hope. I move the Tamaraneans around into an approximate sphere, eliciting more shrieks… And more dull resignation from all too many. I remember reading that.. Tamaraneans live in the now more than Humans do, but… I'm not sure how that works with massive psychological trauma.

Ring, plot course for Rilsomtine. Minimum safe distance.

Compliance.

Warp.

Space.. ripples as the ring distorts a far larger area than I'm used to. Come. On! This is the first significant heroic thing I've done away from Earth and it is going to happen!

The moon vanishes behind us as the starfield blurs around us. The panic dies down slightly, though the helplessness is still present. That can… I'll worry about that later. Or… Hire someone who knows how to fix it.

Emergence in three, two, one.

The warp terminates well inside the 'acceptable' boundary which the Crown Imperium enforces around its worlds, but I cleared my approach in advance. The Crown Imperium is governed by an aristocratic oligarchy, and when the Chief Minister says that you're good people, everyone lower down bends over themselves to make things easier for you. Given that the Imperium would have been the first target of a Citadel expansion wave, I think they probably owed me anyway.

Transition down.

Compliance. Warning: low power.

Space vanishes, and we appear just above the fields of the rehabilitation centre. Tamaraneans from my last delivery look around in alarm, some fleeing but others either heading in the direction of the staff buildings or flying closer to offer their help. A large number of those I'm holding immediately try to fly away, so I release my hold on them and try and land the rest as rapidly as I can. Local ambulance vehicles are already heading our way…

I did it. I did it. It worked.

But I'm still not finished.

I hold out my hands palms forwards as my lantern appears from subspace once more.

"This is my cause…"

 

13th July
16:46 GMT

"Well? You wanted to talk to them."

I nod. He's right. It's just… "Commander Andar… My duties haven't required me to… Get in this situation before. Is it..? Common, to be acting against people you.. think you might quite like if things were a little different?"

"My entire company is comprised of the descendants of those who remained loyal to Hyathis after the High Council deposed her. I feel that way whenever we operate in Thanagarian space."

"Okay, but… With people you fight?"

"In regions like this, that is the nature of the work. Is this the first time you have been in combat?"

"No, but that was mostly law enforcement. There was an… Attack on a city on my homeworld. I killed dozens without hesitation, but the people involved… They had suicide charges which destroyed their bodies. We still don't really know who they were." I pause. "Slavery as it's practised in Vega is a despicable institution. I felt that even before I gained the ability to see the desires of the people around me. But… For these Gordanians, it's simply part of their society. If they'd grown up somewhere where it didn't happen, they probably wouldn't do it."

"In my experience, thinking about it in those terms doesn't help."

"I'm sure you're right…" Well. He is. "Orange Lantern to King Myand'r. We're in position."

"The interdiction fields which block the Gordanian drives are now active, as is the communications jammer. Make those fiends pay for what they and their Citadel masters have done to us."

"Understood." I end the transmission. And that's why communication between Tamaran and the Thanagarians is going through me. I'm not sure exactly how Commander Andar would respond to getting conflicting orders from his fixer and the man who is technically his employer. "Remember, Commander. That space station is your deposit. If it explodes you'll be stuck living out of your ships for the next three hundred years."

"Hah! Have no fear, Orange Lantern. Should it come to it, a simple breach and clear of an ageing space station is well within our abilities."

"I'm glad to hear it. Ring, hail them."

A screen lights up inside my helmet, a bored looking Gordanian staring back at me. "Who is it and what do-? Oh, it's you. You want to talk to Zaark?"

"I think it would probably be better if I spoke to Weezak."

"Hold on." The screen goes black. I'm on hold. How about that? The screen lights up again. "He wants to know what it's about."

"It's about the reason why your faster than light drives aren't working."

"What are you talking about?"

"Try them."

The screen goes black again.

"Any progress?"

"I think I'm talking to a receptionist."

"A comms officer."

"I used to work in an office. I know a receptionist when one puts me on hold."

The screen lights back up. Finally, Weezak. "What do you know, Lantern?"

"I know that I just spent three hours building interdiction field generators, and they just got turned on. And now I'm-"

"YOU DARE?!"

"-going to ask you to surrender, please. I'm prepared to offer-."

"COME AND DIE, LANTERN! I WILL DISEMBOWEL YOU WITH YOUR OWN AXE! ALL SHIPS, TRIANGULATE THE SOURCE OF THIS TRANSMISSION-" A buoy that's nowhere near my physical location. "-AND REDUCE IT TO CINDERS!"

"Chief Weezak, please, be rational. You don't have anything like enough force-."

"My clan is MIGHTY, Lantern. Our military-."

"Died to a man when Larfleeze attacked Hny'xx. Aside from the picket force around Karna, and you couldn't reach them to call for help even if they could get here fast enough. Which they can't."

"Lies. We will coat the stars with your internal organs and I will take your rings for myself. Open fire!"

Screen off.

"Commander-."

"The hard way, then."

"I'm afraid so. Target-" I transmit an image of the Gordanian's fleet deployment. Two ships, the one furthest from Tamaran accelerating back towards the Scratching Post and the closer one heading for the buoy. The third is in dock, inactive while the parts I traded are being fitted. "-this vessel." I indicate the one going after the buoy. "I want the station to see it. Shoot to disable if at all possible. Squadron ready?"

"Yes, Orange Lantern. We all went on high alert the moment you hired us."

"Right, sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you weren't… Orange Lantern to squadron, prepare for micro warp jump. Sending you emergency points now. I will shoot to disable their shields, you will destroy their weapons. In the event that they don't surrender, feel free to shoot them until they're very sorry. Confirm."

"Message received and understood. Drift on the warp?"

"Zero, Flight Leader Karn. I'm a Lantern. Warp in three, two, one, warping."

Space bends around the squadron of six and myself. For such a short jump it's barely noticeable, but I'm accelerating-. The Gordanian ship appears ahead of me, my construct railguns loaded with crumbler rounds appearing next to me. I noticed last time I was here that the Gordanians have a double shield system, an outer shield covering the whole ship and several smaller ones covering critical areas. Normally, that's a sensible design, but -my first crumbler strikes home and drops the main shield, overloading the emitters- it means that they have basically no defence against this. My railguns track and fire, marking off each weapon hardpoint one by one. As the shields fall I relay the information back to the Thanagarian attack craft swooping in behind me. Their formation spreads out even as the Gordanian guns try to traverse, shots from their proton guns neatly coring each of the ship's guns.

"Orange Lantern to whoever's in charge of-" One of the guns on the ship's upper surface suffers a flashback, the hull section nearby suddenly heating up. That shouldn't happen. Some sort of..? Overload? "-that Gordanian ship. As of-" Flight Leader Karn pings me. "-right now, you have no functioning exterior guns and your teleport scanners are slag. Surrender at once or you will be boarded and all resisting crew killed."

There's a delay. "Ragh. What terms?"

"Cowards! Fight them!"

"Chew your tail, Weezak. This is my ship and we can't win."

"You'll be marooned on a habitable world with no FTL drive or FTL comms. And I don’t recommend ever coming anywhere near either Tamaran or me afterwards."

"Accepted. We yield. And…" There's a pause. "Ignore Weezak. The rest of us would take those terms."

I nod. "I won't kill anyone I don't have to. Hold here. Orange Lantern to the commanding officer of the other effective Gordanian ship. How do you like your chances?"

 

13th July
22:56 GMT

"And what-" There's a horrifically loud tearing sound as a macro construct-chainsaw with x-ionised teeth gouges through the outer armour of the beached Gordanian clanship. "-did we learn from this experience?"

A large part of the Gordanian clanfolk watch from a minimum distance marked out by the line the Thanagarian ships acting as my air cover will shoot if they cross. I only really saw the young and middle aged adults on my original visit, but here are the young and old watching me cut their home apart. With their main warfleet gone and their hold over Tamaran evaporated, Tearing Bite might come to be glad that I'm putting them somewhere no-one is going to bother to look for them. Gordanians aren't exactly shy about sticking the boot in to clans that fall from power, and they're nearly as ready to enslave other Gordanians are they are aliens.

Might. Eventually. At the moment the fact that I'm breaking up their home and primary means of defence is rather crowding out deeper reflection.

The chastened anthropologist I rescued when we arrived looks suitably bashful. "That… No matter how curious I am, no matter how friendly the locals appear to be or physically attractive I find them, I should remain at the observational stage of my studies until I have a firm grasp of their physiology and lifecycle."

"Good show, Miss Leelyu."

There's a ringing thump as the clanship's FTL drive comes free. I return the blades to subspace, drop the chainsaw construct and move the drive over to one of the Thanagarian cargo transports. I tore the larger weapons from their mountings while still in Tamaran orbit, but I wanted to leave the hull of the ship intact until we arrived to make the job of transporting them easier. I'm not taking everything, but I don't want them even getting back into orbit this generation. There aren't any Culacao on this continent yet, but I don't want the Gordanians flying over to their grassland habitat and enslaving them.

"How did you even get here?"

"I bought passage from Meat Barter clan. They're due to pick me up in half a local year's time."

Meat… Barter. They're mostly semi-legitimate traders who largely operate outside of Vega. They'll probably… Stick to their agreement, but I don't really want word about what I did to Tearing Bite leaking out just yet, in case someone who hears it decides to take advantage. Hm.

Okay, the ships aren't structurally sound enough for them to try flying them even if they had fuel, which they don't. Leaving them enough food to keep them going until the next local harvest -as long as they start planting as soon as possible- and some generators… Think I'm done.

"Do you have any plans until then? I doubt that going back to the village-."

"Wouldn't be a good idea since word has gotten around that I'm some sort of talking, two-legged mollusc." She looks down at the ground with a quiet huff. "It's such a shame; there's so little research on the peoples of the Vega systems, particularly the more isolated ones. I'll just.. have to try another tribe. And this time keep my distance."

"Would you..? Be interested in spending time on Tamaran instead? I've just removed the Citadel-aligned picket and… The locals are friendly, attractive and… Don't reproduce using mobile incubation chambers which they stab to death with spears in an annual ritual hunt."

She raises her eyebrows slightly. "How much choice do I actually have here?"

"I'd… Try and work around you if you said no. But I would very much prefer it if you said yes." I turn away from the beached hulks and start walking in the direction of the clan leaders. After a moment's hesitation Leelyu follows on behind me. "It could be an interesting case study on re-industrialisation after a period of occupation. And it'll be a good deal safer than Asryx or here."

"And it might be nice to stop somewhere with heated baths."

"I didn't want to mention it."

"Alright. I accept your generous offer. Where should I-?"

"I took the liberty of having your possessions moved onto transport five. You may as well jump on board now, we'll be leaving shortly."

"Ah."

She stops, looks around for a moment and then jogs off in the direction of the Thanagarians' ships. I float up off the ground and then accelerate, slamming to a halt in front of the senior maroonee.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to your new home."

Weezak is still heavily bandaged from where a group of Thanagarian marines laid into him with their maces. His closest supporters and Zaark were the only ones who tried to fight back, and when I removed Zaark's implant he gave up on that idea quickly enough. Thanagarian 'pacification' doesn't involve low lethality weapons so much as high lethality weapons turned down a little. Several members of Weezak's retinue were killed, and the man himself won't be entering a beauty pageant anytime soon. Still, any fight your still-breathing carcass can be dragged away from…

Somehow, I couldn't quite work up the enthusiasm to heal him.

Zaark takes a half-step forwards, eying the Thanagarian guards warily. When that doesn't provoke a response he takes the opportunity to scowl at me. "Why did you do this? We had a business relationship. I thought that you-."

"I lied constantly throughout our discussion and used the ring to disguise how I really felt. My homeworld formally abolished slavery worldwide ninety years ago, all major nation states having long since abandoned the practice. I told you what I needed to in order to secure the release of the Tamaraneans."

"What's so great about them?"

"They're not slavers and pirates. In fact, from what I know about their history they never were. They are a people I want to encourage."

"And what about us? Are we your slaves now?"

"No. I don't own slaves. This…" I look around us for a moment. "Is a test to see if you can become anything other than what you are. To see if you can manage on your own resources."

He gives a slight shudder, his eyes unfocusing slightly. "Trogaar really dead?"

"I saw his corpse myself." Larfleeze's Construct-Lanterns didn't seem to bother assimilating anyone during their charge through the fleet. Maybe Larfleeze needs to be physically present for that to happen? Don't know. "He's dead and no one's coming for you." I take the axe I traded to Weezak out of subspace and hold it out to him. "Here."

His eyes narrow. "You attack my clan, my people… You take everything we have, and you offer me an axe? The only way I have to resist you is to refuse it."

"I suppose you could look at it like that. Are you going to?"

He reaches out with his right hand and takes hold of the haft. "It's a useful tool." I raise my right hand, and the Thanagarians back up a little. Zaark's eyes move over the line, then return to me. "That it?"

"That's it. If we're both fortunate, we'll never see each other again."

"Yeah." He shifts his hold on the axe slightly. "We probably won't. But we'll remember you, Lantern. If we ever get the chance to do to you what you just did to us, we'll take it."

I drift backwards without taking my eyes off him. "Good luck with that, Zaark." Once I'm outside of axe range, I turn around and head in the direction of the Thanagarian transport vehicles and raise my left hand to my ear. "Commander, we're ready to depart. And I believe that King Myand'r wants to talk to us."

 

14th July
23:14 GMT

"…when you started singing!" King Myand'r beams as he waves his goblet in my direction. "I thought that you were a total buffoon! Tell me, do your people commonly share points of personal philosophy in lyrical form?"

My eyes dip. "No, your majesty, but most people don't worship their people's Goddess of Chaos."

After my actions in rescuing their people and protecting their planet, King Myand'r and Queen Luand'r were more than happy to put me up in the palace. Commander Andar is breakfasting with us as well. They'll be negotiating their actual working relationship today, the Tamaranean side apparently not having given it much thought after they wrote me off as an incompetent. And I'm included, since I'm the only way for the Thanagarians to get out without deactivating the interdiction system.

Prince Karras raises his eyebrows. "The Goddess of Chaos? Does she include music as part of her domain?"

Karras is with us as well, serving as his parents' representative in the negotiations. Just the five of us at breakfast on the balcony, though there'll be a formal banquet later… Today. I haven't quite adjusted to Tamarus time yet. I suppose that the Princesses are still recovering. They were both awake and alert when I flew everyone back…

"No, but she… Isn't keen on impulse control. I wanted to demonstrate a point and… That was the first thing that came into my head. Um, sorry."

Queen Luand'r nods. "That is a very Tamaranean attitude. We are not a people given much to dissembling. Singing is not the usual result, but it is hardly offensive in itself."

Commander Andar slices the top off a soft boiled egg. It looks a lot like a chicken egg, except that it's slightly larger and has a pale purple shell. "Were you able to confirm that the Citadel facility on Hny'xx was destroyed?"

I nod. "All of the ships that I saw on my arrival were wrecks or wreckage. The facility itself had… It was like someone had scooped out a chunk of planet where it used to be. There was some stuff left, but nothing useable."

"And the Beast's-." He stops himself and inclines his head slightly. "Larfleeze's slaves?"

"There were a few still there. Including Blume, who I suspect was the one that tore the facility out of the planet. They didn't see me."

"Are you certain? If I understand our position, those things are the only outside force that can threaten Tamaran."

"And.. maybe.. Apokolips, with boom tubes. I don't know how to block those. But.. I know, because they didn't immediately come after me. Larfleeze doesn't due deferred gratification or patience or.. strategy. If he did, he'd have found me already. And if his people haven't been to Tamaran already, I doubt that they're going to now."

King Myand'r nods. "Having heard your tale of what became of the Citadel Admiral, I am very glad that I didn't try wearing that ring."

"Oh, I weighted that with a pulse from-" I raise my left hand slightly. "-this ring. I've known how to get Larfleeze's attention for a while. It's just that it's usually a really bad idea. But, yes, if you come across any others, don't put them on without talking to me first."

Karras tilts his head slightly to the side. "And once you have killed Larfleeze?"

"Then they'll still be very dangerous, just from the psychological effects of the orange light exposure. I.. hope to be able to recruit, once I have a better idea about how they affect people. If you… Want to be on the long list-"

"Yes, very much so."

"-then I-. Oh. Ah, okay. Um." I wave my left hand, my old 'potential recruits' book appearing from subspace. "Okay, I'll… Put your name down. Please understand that this isn't a guarantee."

"I can adapt to any method of war, and will learn any skill set that they require."

"That's… Skill.. isn't.. the main thing. Power rings respond to… To particular ways of thinking. And if your mind doesn't work in the right way, you won't be able to use it well. That doesn't.. mean that you think in the wrong ways, each ring colour works best with different outlooks. It just might mean that you're not right for orange." I slide my now-empty bowl forwards. I had a mixture of nuts and grains in warm farm animal lactation. I guess I'm.. just a.. man of habit. "And I really don't know when or even if I'm going to be in a position to do that." I slide my chair back. "If you'll excuse me?"

The Tamaraneans look a little puzzled. Oh, I.. guess that's not a tradition they have. "I thought I'd go for a flight around the city. Do some sightseeing, get my thoughts in order a little…"

King Myand'r waves his right hand. "By all means. Do you require the escort of a guide?"

I stand and step away from the table. "No, I… Thank you, but I think I can manage. I'll be back in time for the meeting."

I perform a short bow, then rise at speed up into the sky.

There are a lot more people outside than there were during my first visit. That isn't the same all over the planet, of course. The king sent out word to the major cities but it'll be some time before their communications infrastructure is up to scratch. I doubt.. that outlying villages will know that they're safe until the end of this month. I wonder what sort of route rebuilding will take? On Earth, plenty of places skipped building copper wire type phone lines because mobile phone technology was already available. Tamaran has the knowledge required to ramp up quickly… Might end up looking a bit like the 2002 version of He-Man: cybernetics and flying vehicles existing in a world where most villages use animal drawn ploughs.

Though I suppose Earth looks like that in a lot of places, too.

A few people point up, but no one flies up to say hello. I'm not sure what the social convention is… They probably don't.. actually know who I am. The king wanted to do a single announcement for everything, so it's.. pretty much just going to be rumour at this stage.

Oh.

Without really meaning to, I've drifted over the part of the city the Gordanians shot. It's been.. nearly two decades now and what ruins are left are well overgrown. Give the force of the impact I might have expected a shallow lake to have formed, but the soil here is too free-draining. It's just an… Just a scar on the cityscape. I'm sure that when the rebuilding begins in earnest it'll be one of the first-.

I catch a glimpse of white amongst the foliage, the ring showing me-. Princess Komand'r sitting amongst the walls of an abandoned building, the walls covering her on four sides and the foliage concealing her from above. No one.. else around. And I… Need to both check up on her and.. find out what version of her I'm dealing with.

I fly over to directly above her, extending my environmental shield so that I disrupt local air currents. She looks up, her eyes narrowing slightly as I descend into her grove. She's still wearing the solar bodysuit I made for her.

"I hope that I'm not bothering you."

Her attention remains fully focused on me, studying me carefully. "No more here than you were anywhere else."

She's standing at ground level, so I drop down to stand on the ground as well. I keep a.. little distance. "I hope you don't mind me not copying Tamaranean styles." A slight puzzled frown from her and I gesture to her clothing with my right hand. "You haven't changed…"

"Okaara is colder than Tamaran. I had become accustomed to wearing more. Does it have some special significance?"

"A friend of mine is solar powered, and he-" A mild snarl, and she half-turns away. "-used to.. wear something similar..? I'm sorry, is there something-?"

"I am not solar powered." Oh. "Clearly, you did not know that, so I will endeavour not to hold it against you. Did you wish to speak about something in particular?"

 

14th July
23:19 GMT

"How..? Are you..?"

"I am filled with a bitter and burning hate." She huffs quietly. "It is almost as if I had never left."

I see red and green, isolation, alienation and determination. I search for images of Koriand'r… Red, she thinks that Koriand'r was their parents' favourite, their people's favourite. Scenes of sparring… Enthusiastic sparring on Komand'r's part… But despite the hate, I'm not seeing anything about handing her over to the Citadel. And if their brother's defection was really what triggered them both getting picked up… It's not as if their location was a secret…

"I…" I look at her rather than into her. Expression, eye movements… Nothing that suggests that she's recovering from being… Being tortured, raped and experimented on. "I meant… In yourself. About-?"

Her head turns in my direction, a frown on her face. "Speak. What are you trying to ask?"

"I realise that different species process events differently, but a Human woman who had experienced what.. you and your sister did would be traumatised. It would be.. years before they could function normally, and there would be a wide variety of behavioural-."

Her face relaxes slightly. "Is that why you are here? To ensure that I have not been driven mad?"

"When I do something, I stick with it until it is done. My aim was to help you. If there is more that you require in order to-."

"No." Her attention drifts away from me, towards the sky above us. She takes a moment before continuing. "Perhaps it is a species difference. What is the point of continuing to be hurt by something that has stopped happening?"

"I don't know. If I had to guess, it's something to do with how the Human brain learns. In a normal situation, learning to associate pain with a thing that harms you teaches you to avoid it. But in a situation where the pain can't be avoided, it's… Maladaptive. The brain tries to associate pain with… Everything."

"Tortured by your own brain." She looks back at me, looking… Contemplative. "If that is what would happen then I am glad that I am not Human. That is the name of your species?"

"Yes. In the short form."

"And in the long form?"

"My species uses a classification system which describes every species on our homeworld precisely in terms of its relationship to every other. Mine is Animalia Chordata Mammalia Primates Haplorhini Hominidae Homo Sapiens Sapiens."

"The last part repeated itself."

I raise my hands. "I didn't come up with the system."

"Human, then. At least you had the privilege of choosing your own name, however strange it sounds. Did you know that our name and that of our world was dictated to us by the Psions?"

"No, I didn't."

"When our people still lived on Okaara we had another name. Now we are known by the Psion name for this world… At least by those who do not call us.. other things. Most of my people are not even aware of it."

"Well… I'm.. sure that your government is going to be developing a new education system fairly soon. You could try and get the.. original language included?"

"It hardly seems relevant. I take it that your people's homeworld is not called 'Hue'?"

"No, Earth. Literally, 'the ground'."

"There is sense in calling it that." She regards me for a moment. "Are they all dead?"

"Who?"

"Those who manned the base on Hny'xx. I assumed that you would have had to kill them, but you may not have been thorough."

"When I went back to check I didn't see anything still alive. The Psion Tront might still be alive, he had some sort of teleportation system I didn't recognise, but I think you can assume that no one else is."

She nods. "Then it seems that I am at a loss as to what to do next. I had thought to revenge myself upon them. Not that I regret your killing them."

"While I'm certainly responsible, it was mostly Larfleeze's Construct-Lanterns who killed them. I've never been much good at unrestrained wanton destruction." My eyes dip. "And I… Think I'd prefer to stay like that."

"I thought that you planned to destroy the Citadel?"

"I… Do. But… Thinking about it? I think I need to deal with Larfleeze first. And given the technology that the Citadel has… I think that I'm going to need more Lanterns on my side."

"Gathering resources is a wise move. The Citadel Complex will not fall swiftly or easily, and I doubt that the Beast will either. How will you do this?"

"I assume that you've.. heard of the Green Lanterns?" A small nod. "The people who run the Green Lantern Corps are called the Guardians of the Galaxy, but their species is called Maltusian. I have their original homeworld's location and I know that a large number of them are still there. I'm hoping that some of them will be willing to help me."

"And if they refuse?"

"If all of them refuse? Then.. I'm.. probably going to have to take a series of quite foolish risks. On the other hand, I did bait the most powerful Lantern in the universe into attacking me yesterday, so…" I shrug, chuckling to myself.

"It must be nice to have such power."

I think about giving her a flippant reply, but there's something about the way she's looking at me… "Yes, it is."

"Oh? No qualification? No comment on the burdens of your station?"

"No, not really. I'm here because I want to be, doing this because I want to do it. If I didn't, I wouldn't. And if you're going to do something, it's better to be well equipped and well supported."

She nods and looks away again. "Do you know why this place exists?"

"Orbital bombardment on the day you were born."

"And everyone was too afraid of annoying our conquerors to do anything with it afterwards." She runs her right hand along an exposed section of wall, her face suddenly twisting into a snarl as she rips away a piece of alien concrete and tosses it aside. Then she stops completely still, the passion completely vanishing from her. "I used to come here when I was a little girl to get away from people. They never openly blamed me. Not exactly. But I heard the muttering. Especially after I fell ill and lost the ability to fly. Such a stupid little thing; before the most recent war with the Citadel we never bothered exterminating the disease which causes us to lose the ability to absorb ultraviolet light because it can only infect a person once in their lifetime and it was far easier to restore the damage. Then, we lost the ability and no one else had records of how to do it." A look of distaste passes across her face. "Except the Psions, presumably. I used to think there wasn't anything that I would not do to regain it. One thing I will take away from this experience is the knowledge that that is no longer correct." She turns to face me again. "Will you kill them as well? And the Branx, and the Gordanians?"

"I'm not sure. Probably. Certainly, I'll need to reduce their ability to interfere with other peoples. The Branx, I don't know. The Gordanians, I expect so."

She nods, then turns away and starts walking out through the overgrown ruins. "I will let you know if I think I have anything meaningful to contribute."

 

16th July
11:49 GMT

Is it worth trying to creep around?

Detecting a warp doesn't tell you what warped in, though the power being employed might give you a rough idea. Transitioning is Lantern only. Warping is easier to detect, but the Reach have a history of fighting Lanterns. They almost certainly have a way of tracking them. Us. Now, whatever that technique or technology might be might only work on Greens and it might fail due to my tattoos -that would be nice- but I don't know that. It might be something they have to set up over an area…

Or I could go in hard and fast. The Reach's response to unpleasant surprises is usually to try negotiating with whoever is causing it. If it looks like I might get overwhelmed I could probably just back out again-. No, I'm being silly. If I'm happy to just kill any Reach people without regard to local politics I've really got no reason to worry about most of the things I've been trained to worry about.

Heh.

Ring, we're on military order. Warp in and target any Reach vessels, personnel and property.

Compliance.

And find me the local Darkstar contingent.

Compliance.

Space bends, the rings glowing brilliantly as the cloud of confusion obscuring my desires evaporates. Shouldn't take-

Warp terminating.

-long. Space flattens out, Urrigen appearing in the centre of my field of view. Without looking hard I can already see thirty or so sub-light space barges carrying raw materials from around the system back to Urrigen itself. The Reach vessel -just one- is in low orbit, its weapons firing down at what looks like a.. cave complex. It's not going all out, just-

Incoming communication from Reach vessel.

-firing off the occasional shot. Hm. Anywhere else and I'd give them a minute or two to evacuate. Darkstars in the caves?

Unknown. Reach communications state that they are lawfully assisting local government in neutralising a terrorist organisation. Reach soldiers and weapons fire detected in the caves.

I begin accelerating towards the ship. Masers?

Damage consistent with maser fire detected.

Good-oh.

Message incoming from Urrigen government.

Hm. There's nothing on this side of the planet that has any chance of hitting me and all of their military ships are too far away. Ignore.

I watch as the Reach ship ceases firing and starts to turn in order to pull away from the planet. One really nice thing about fighting this sort of Reach ship?

All of their guns point in the same direction.

Ring? Eddy pulse.

A fat beam of orange light blasts from my right hand at near-light speed. Rather than a single unified beam, this one is comprised of hundreds of tiny strands all bunched up. It occurred to me before I arrived that the Reach might have construct-disrupting technology, at least in a form they could deploy over a small area. And one place they would logically put it would be on ships operating near the periphery. Thus, eddy pulse.

Not that I tried using it on a ship before. I'm quite interested-.

The beam hits the Reach vessel's shields on the upper surface. And then it goes to work. Unlike a destructive pulse, an eddy pulse doesn't work by draining energy from the target area and therefore causing matter to decay. Rather, it acts like a warp biotic power in Mass Effect, applying massive gravitational stress to tear whatever it hits apart. The beam doesn't get absorbed or turned aside. Rather, the strands spread out across the surface of the shield. And then?

Twist.

The shield shimmers and fails as it tries to cope with five hundred instances of intense gravitational shear. The barrier gone, the strands surge forwards and latch onto the ship's hull. Reach hulls are pretty tough, but unlike true warships this ship doesn't have the thickness or exotic defences to even try and survive this attack. The ship jerks as a chunk of the hull just collapses, torn to pieces by the gravitational eddies generated by my filaments.

I see escape pods launch from the underside of the ship towards the rear. Hm. Ordinarily I'd try picking them up and either handing them over to a competent authority or marooning them. In this case, however… The only authorities in the local environment are the Reach and their suborned governments. And I don't have the time or inclination to take them to Maltus. And if I let them land they'll be back in action in a few days. Guess they're out of luck then. A railgun appears next to me, loaded with crumbler rounds. Track… Fire a volley at each.

I feel the hum of the gun through my construct tether as it sends the rounds towards the pods. At this range it's possible that they might evade individual shots. Shouldn't be a problem; crumbler rounds crumble themselves when they hit so there's next to no risk of them getting captured and reverse engineered.

There's an explosion from the ship as something volatile gets hit, and lights in two thirds of the ship go out. Main drive also appears to be inoperative, so it-. Ring, calculate? No, it doesn't have escape velocity, but it'll keep going for a while before crashing… Into one of the planet's oceans. Weapons have also lost power. It's mission-killed, ignore it.

I transition past it and head for the planet's surface. Stewart-ring, do you have Darkstar communication protocols?

Protocols on file. However, they are not recent and are unlikely to elicit a response.

Fine. Broadcast to combat zone.

Compliance.

Escape pods start taking hits, their weak shields failing and their hulls breaking up either from the follow-up strikes or from re-entry.

"Darkstars, are you in need of assistance? Please transmit location. I'm coming in anyway, but you're in caves and those can collapse." The ring gives me a more precise scan of the caves. Those look rather fortified… If somewhat shot up. "Collapse more. It would also be a big help to know who I was going to be shooting at."

Around what appears to be the staging area Reach troopers are manning heavy weapon emplacements and aircraft -local ones by the look of it- are taking off. Following apparently legitimate orders or subordinated? Ring, compare physiology with on-file records for the local species. Also, railguns, fire crumblers at those emplacements.

Compliance. Two more railgun constructs appear as a beam of purple plasma shoots past me harmlessly, and I feel the humming once more as the three of my guns open fire. Minor nanostructure alteration to pilot brains detected. Modification is in accordance with standard Reach methodology.

Symptoms?

Traits common to Reach personnel and technology will seem to possess greater natural authority.

A nudge rather than outright control. It would let them gradually redesign a society merely by making suggestions.

Hm. Not sure that a purple healing ray would remove something like that… Ring, fry their computers in such a way as allows them time to eject.

Compliance.

A pale orange beam flickers out, passing over the aircraft one by one as the railgun rounds begin hitting the emplacements. The force fields covering them flare and die, and a moment later so do the crew. The aircraft wobble and go ballistic… Come on, come on, get out-. There we go. Ring, track their landing zones. I'll purge them if I get time.

Compliance. Incoming message.

Oh, who is it this time?

"This is Operative Lotta of the Darkstars. We're up against about forty Reach infantry-" Easy enough. "-and one Scarab Warrior. Any further help you can give would be much appreciated."

"Understood, Operative Lotta. En route."

Ring, Praexis Demons.

Compliance.

 

16th July
11:53 GMT

The Praexis Demons surge ahead of me into the cave network. From the residual heat and melted appearance of the walls of the entrance tunnel I'm going to assume that they used the ship to cut their way in through the surrounding rock. I do a brief inspection of the emplacements-. One of the horribly burned soldiers is still alive.

Railgun.

I turn away as the impact of the tungsten round causes his head to disintegrate. Decent armour, decent personal force fields, but… Nothing exceptional. Nothing that beats what I already have. There was a comic I read years ago now, where a group of B-listers ended up fighting… Someone. I don't remember his name. Point is, though he was far more powerful than them he pointed out that while it had taken his people millennia to gain the abilities that he had they were able to hold him off with powers they'd more or less tripped over. Hard work versus luck. Reach soldiers could quite happily walk through light machinegun fire without being harmed, but they actually aren't better equipped than someone like Mister Metcalf.

I think it might be a good idea if that news didn't get around.

The Praexis Demons boil out of the main shaft and encounter the Reach's rearguard. Maybe it's like the 'Humanity, Fuck Yeah' section on 4chan said. The thing about evolving on a death world is that you don't know that it's a death world. I mean, the Praexis Demons are munching their way through the soldiers, stopping briefly to suck the power out of their force fields. We evolved on a planet where Praexis Demons roam freely. And more powerful Demons could appear from Hell if we chanted a few phrases and killed a few people in their names. And, yes, maybe being turned into Construct-Lanterns has enhanced them a bit, but the Reach is the largest interstellar polity presently existing and bottom tier Demons can eat their soldiers.

I reach the bottom of the shaft myself as the Praexis Demons swarm onwards. Mapping says-. There's a release of energy from a chamber much further inside the complex, and for the first time I get clear returns from the Darkstars. The Reach appear to be advancing on their last redoubt, placing force field projectors as they go. The woman in yellow organic-looking power armour leading the assault isn't bothering to hide. Her left arm has taken the form of a tower shield and she uses that to block a charged beam from one of the Darkstars, lighter shots barely making an impression on her armour.

That would be.. Yellow Beetle, then.

Ring, anything stopping me from transitioning into the corridor behind them?

None detected.

I pull half of my Praexis Demons back into the ring, and wince slightly as I learn what the Reach taste like.

A huge Dog-faced Darkstar flares his personal shield and charges out of cover, his comrades rising to give him covering fire. Without missing a beat Yellow Beetle turns her right hand into a gun and returns fire, striking another Darkstar in the chest and causing her to collapse to the ground. Then the gun shifts into a power fist looking appendage as she meets the charging Darkstar, brings him to a stop with her shield and slams her gauntlet hand into his ribs.

Transition.

"…clumsy meat."

Demons, go.

"Rahh!"

The big Darkstar throws punches and point-blank maser bolts and the Beetle dances around them. A sidestep and a shield block to evade a punch, a half-second buzz of her wings to dodge a shot from another Darkstar and a punch to the big fellow's leg which causes him to stagger and stumble. She's grinning.

Right up until the eddy pulse hits her in the back.

"Agh!"

Beetle armour is tough. My pulse envelops her right wing, upper right back and upper right arm, but all that I see happen is her armour discolour slightly and her wing collapse.

Resistance detected.

There's a pulse of white-blue light as she turns her fall from the air into a tumble, my attack construct evaporating as she lands. She's not laughing now.

"A Lantern?"

Two railguns form as my construct-armour absorbs a few shots from Reach soldiers before they're assailed by my demonic retinue. While it might be better to keep crumbler rounds as a secret, I think this time I'll take the short term gain.

Fire.

Compliance.

The air burns as the railguns fire faster than I've ever had them do before. I probably shouldn't get used to this intensity of violence but -Yellow Beetle doubles up on her shields and grows additional armour- there's something to be said for not having other considerations to take into account. The shields start turning sandy brown almost immediately, the material they're comprised of visibly abrading as the Darkstars take full advantage of the fact that she's facing me to shoot her undefended back.

"No, you-! Gah!"

She shudders, ducking back behind her right shield so that she can morph her left arm into… Something or other. The moment I see her start to move I generate another railgun off to the side and shoot the shifting arm right in the glowy bit. There's a small explosion-

"Uh!"

-and what's left of her left forearm crackles, sparks and drips what's either blood or whatever the Beetles use instead.

"Lantern! This violates the treaty!"

Aim for the head.

Compliance.

The first hit knocks her head sideways, her full helm discolouring. The second hits her left eye, causing her to shudder and collapse. Then the big Darkstar lumbers over, hauls her up by the head and squeezes.

"Owwwrrrraaaaaaghh!"

I hear the crack as her helmet fails and her head is pulped between his palms.

"I've never fought a Beetle before. She dead?"

He glances at me, then tosses the body into a clear part of the cavern. "Yeah. But she's not done yet."

The armour covering her shakes and slowly retracts. The skin beneath is pale purple… Zambaii? Makes sense, the Reach absorbed their world about seventy years ago. I'd rather assumed that they used their own species, but I suppose they must keep other races around for something.

"Was she a volunteer, or-?"

"Don't know. Don't care. You kill the rest?"

"Just the ones attacking this site."

"That a real power ring?"

"They're two real power rings, yes."

"Hey, Tarant!" A Khundian Darkstar with a shaved head and scalp tattoos tosses a small device over to his large colleague… Tarant, presumably. "Use mine!"

"Thanks Phil." The armour has almost totally retracted now, jus the broken parts around the head and the left arm giving it trouble. The woman beneath is wearing just her underwear, and the scarab thingy that makes the armour is clearly visible where it's attached to her back. Tarant leans down, presses the device to the scarab and then steps back. "Might want to cover your eyes."

There's a sort of a… Hissing noise, green vapour rising from the scarab device. Then space bends around the device as a flash of green light consumes the scarab.

Tarant huffs in satisfaction, then turns to face me. "Thanks. Now who the Hell are you and what the Hell are you doing here?"

 

16th July
11:55 GMT

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four." I pull all but a handful of Praexis Demons back into the rings and send the rest to the entrance to keep watch. "Do you have injured?"

Tarant glowers. "That doesn't-."

"Yes, we do." Another Darkstar strides past their defences. Another Zambaii. Ooh, this could get awkward if they knew one another. "We will gratefully accept any assistance-" I transition to the other side of their barricade. "-you feel able-" The shot that hit the woman I saw earlier burned through her armour, skin and muscle and lightly charred her organs. Another fellow… I think that's a fellow, has numerous burns all across his body where his armour has been punctured by multiple smaller strikes. "-to give."

"Medical records please!" Okay, scanning. Nothing on the second guy's species but the woman conforms more closely to the standard humanoid template. I still need to copy her body chemistry but at least I know where everything is supposed to go. Huh, and no temptation to 'improve' things. Blackened and roasted organ tissue evaporates and is replaced by fresh brown/green. That looks… About right. Anything obviously toxic in the blood..? No, right, best I can do then. Fat, muscle and skin and I hope her species doesn't have belly buttons.

"Here." The man who asked for my help thrusts a data pad at me, then starts as he sees what I've already done for his colleague. Another Darkstar is applying some sort of purple gel to the man with the… Odd head.

"Thank you."

Ring, absorb all data.

Compliance.

Ah, good, their umbilical cord equivalents attach to their arms. And the other fellow… The gel is a sterile wound cover and regeneration aid, but it won't do anything to prevent the internal damage killing him now. Orange light flares again-. Amphibious filter-feeder? Curious, but alright. Major blood vessels are the most important thing, hearts… Okay, good. Nerves… His eye snaps open, staring at me-.

"Calm down, Threllian." The blue skinned woman next to me waves her left hand in front of his field of vision to be sure that she's got his attention. "He's on our side."

"Reach? Scarab?"

"Dead."

His ears wiggle in a way I don't have information on. "S-scarab, dead?"

Phil strolls over and drops down next to him. "Yeah, buddy. New guy and Tarant squished her good." His armour's battered as well, but the energy field is throwing off my scans so I can't tell whether or not he's carrying injuries.

Threllian suddenly relaxes, and I scan him to try and work out why. Everything.. seems to be in order. If it's some sort of brain shutdown thing-.

The Zambaii rests his right hand on my armour's shoulder. "Thank you. If-."

"I don't know why he's not more alert." I hold up the datapad. "Are you sure this is complete?"

The blue-skinned woman who had been ministering to him stands, pushing her hair back as she does so. "We've been fighting constantly for three days. Frankly, I'm a little surprised that any of us are still on our feet."

I straighten up. "If your physiology is anything like mine, you'll crash in a little while." I turn around in the air. "Anyone got any non-critical injuries they want me to look at?"

Tarant uses his armour's force field to float past the barricades. "Yeah, my leg, where she hit me. Feels like she fried the nerves and broke the bones."

"I'll need you to deactivate your personal shield. I can't scan through it and you don’t want me best-guessing something-"

"Hahahahahaha!" The Khundian throws his head back and guffaws.

"-like.. that."

The Zambaii moves to support Tarant as he sits on a fortification and deactivates his shield. The moment it's no longer contained his leg flops limply, though the man himself gives no indication of discomfort. Scan… I generate a construct-brace to hold his leg in the correct position as I push bone fragments into place and fuse them into a whole.

"How is any of this funny?" I recognise the voice as belonging to Operative Lotta. She's a green-skinned woman with… Sort of… Pink things dangling down the side of her head. Too thin to really be described as lekku. "We nearly died, we could-."

"I know! Ha! Wasn't it great!?"

I shut off my construct. "Try putting weight on it now."

He gingerly puts it on the ground, testing it before standing under his own power. "Good work. Lot better than the last robot doctor I had."

Robot..? I look at my own armour-encased right arm. "Oh, right. Sorry, let me just…" My armour disappears into subspace, replaced by my lighter version. "There. Now, as I said:-" I bring my hands to my chest. "-Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four. Or-"

Ring

"Paul."

"-if we're being informal. I'm here because I need an introduction to the Controllers. And because the-" I half-turn to take in the rest of the room, battered corpse of the former Beetle and the half-eaten Reach soldiers. "-Reach are dreadful people, obviously."

"Yeah. They are." The green-skinned man takes a step forward. "Operative Munchukk."

The Zambaii nods. "Operative Ferrin."

I point out the ones I know. "Operative Phil, Operative Tarant, Operative Threllian and Operative Lotta…"

The blue woman nods. "The woman you healed is Operative Rayyana. I am Senior Operative Merayn Dethalis." Her eyes narrow slightly. "And I would very much like to know what you are. If the Guardians have repudiated their treaty, we need to know about it."

I shake my head. "Sorry, but I am -currently- a free agent. That's rather what I want to talk to the Controllers about. I… Sent a ship to Maltus? Should have arrived about half a year ago?"

She shrugs. "I haven't been back to Maltus for three. We're only based there in a technical sense. It's so hard to get into Reach territory undetected…" I nod. "But providing you with an introduction is the least we can do. We need to evacuate anyway; with our cover blown-."

"Weren't you listening, Mery?" Phil sits up, clearly struggling to remain straight-faced. "He blew up their ship. No ship and no Scarab Warrior. And with all the soldiers who died here, that means-."

Tarant's eyes widen. "No real defences around their embassy or brainwashing factory. If we hit them now-."

Operative Ferrin nods. "No reinforcements. It might be two years before they can send replacements."

"I'm in." I raise my eyebrows at Senior Operative Dethalis. "If you want me. I want to make a good impression."

"You realise that you'll be making an enemy of the Reach?"

"Bit late for that. Besides, people like the Reach? If I've become their enemy… Then I'm probably doing the right thing."

She nods and holds out her right hand, a holographic image of an industrial plant appearing in the air. "Then this is where we're going…"

 

16th July
15:37 GMT

"How do you know about us, anyway?"

The Darkstars' exo-mantles might not have the raw power to let them fight Beetles, but it turns out that they're very good at hiding. So good that they've ordered me to keep back just in case my systems show up more than theirs do while they move into position around the building containing the Reach's trade mission. I'm not sure whether or not I should be offended by the fact that they trust Phil the Khundian, a member of a species for whom violence serves the same social role as sex does in my own, with command of our part of this task.

Then again, given how much violence I've engaged in and how little intimacy, maybe I shouldn't be quite so quick-.

"Hey, you awake in there?"

"Sorry, yes." Concealing information is contrary to my interests, but there's the question of presentation… "I gained access to a partial Green Lantern Corps database a while ago. They monitor Reach activity fairly closely."

I half expect him to make some insulting comment. The Guardians may have made the sensible decision where the Reach are concerned, but I doubt that anyone left fighting Reach soldiers, ships or Beetles is exactly going to thank them for it.

"Right."

He keeps his attention focused on the monitors the other Darkstars are wearing. Ultra-secure feeds interpreted by their computer systems to allow near-perfect monitoring… Still something I could probably set up back on Earth, though the computer would be far larger and the communications less secure. I watch over his shoulder as the group moves past the internal security monitors and personnel like ghosts as they move towards the control systems.

"We're a… Way from Khund here."

"Yeah."

More importantly, they're dodging the actual monitors. The Reach know full well that regular security wouldn't stop a Darkstar, but apparently they hold out hope that it would distract them from the real threat, stealthed detection systems designed to report their presence to either the ship or the local Beetle. The Reach would happily sacrifice what they've built here to stop a Darkstar team, but -Operative Lotta isolates the first suicide demolition charge before evading a scanner- as things stand they're just going to sacrifice everything.

"So what brought you here?"

"Fighting. Those power rings you're wearing?"

"Yes."

"Guardians trying to work out a way around the treaty?"

"Not as far as I know."

"So where'd you get those rings?"

"Second one I got from a fight with a Green Lantern. First one, I still don’t know. I just woke up and there it was."

He nods. "I met my first wife like that."

"Which?"

"Both! Which was awkward, because I hadn't actually killed her husband!" He turns to look at me, grinning. "Eh? Hahaha!"

I shake my head politely. "Honestly. What sort of woman doesn't check the body first?"

Operatives Ferrin, Munchukk and Tarant get into position to use their exo-mantles to generate false signals while Operative Dethalis accesses the central computer.

"Yeah, and that's why basic education should be universal." He returns his attention to the screen. "You get anything from those pilots?"

"Yes. I'd ideally like more information on this species' neurophysiology to be certain, but it shouldn't be too hard for me to reverse the physical alterations. But that doesn't do anything for the socialisation aspect, for modes of thought they've already adopted."

"Right." He turns away and walks towards the balcony. "Come on then. Our turn."

My armour reappears around me. "I haven't been able to scan the chief negotiator since we arrived. How are you sure that she's there?"

"I've spent a lot of time working out how Negotiators think. I don't know if they're actually clones or not, but they all do the same sort of thing in situations like this." We pass through the dampening field and he fades from view as his exo-mantle's stealth systems activate. I follow his lead and activate my armour's phasing and invisibility systems. "Right now, she's in the Principal Building trying to assure the government of the Reach's commitment to their.. relationship." He lifts off to fly over the capital and I follow on behind him. "There'll probably be a joint public statement as soon as his boss has told him that a new ship is on the way. You showing up has probably delayed that, because they don’t want to risk it if the Guardians are doing something."

"So why are we going there the slow way?"

"Because if they think there's a Lantern around, they wouldn't go anywhere without every bit of Lantern-disrupting technology they can get together. You know what happens when you Lantern-FTL into-?"

"Yes, I do."

I see the clear dome of the Grand Assembly auditorium ahead of us. In theory, Urrigen's government is supposed to be open and transparent. As such, they meet and debate in a chamber that can be viewed from the outside. In practice, the growth in central government function during the post-unification era means that the citizenry only see the top of the dome poking out from the surrounding office complexes.

Obvious metaphor is obvious.

Looks like the Assembly is in session… Phil starts to lose altitude, heading for the near side of the dome. I accelerate, flying over the apex and turning, dropping down until I'm precisely opposite him. I remove one of the Darkstar's teleport jammers from my left leg. Clever little multiphasic thing; I can attach it to a structure without coming back into phase and rendering myself detectable.

"Done."

A new party begins filtering into the auditorium, various aides and… The Convenor, with the Negotiator not far behind. And a small squad of Reach soldiers not far behind her. The assembled representatives quieten down and rise to their feet as the two of them approach the podium.

"Ready?"

I fly upwards once again, extending my arms towards the dome.

"I think so."

Hooray for terrorism.

"Enter on four. One-two-"

There's a flare as his breaching charge activates, cutting a hole in the dome and allowing him entry. A maser shot hits a Reach soldier in the neck and another slices off the Negotiator's right forearm.

"-three-"

A third shot hits a Reach soldier's gun just as he brings it to bear, causing an explosion which sends him flying backwards with his chest burned to a crisp. Another soldier deploys a force field barrier while a fourth tries to run to the Negotiator. Phil drops his stealth and increases power to his masers, both hands coming together to generate a shot powerful enough to burn through the braver soldier's chest plate. He falls to the ground, shuddering in pain.

"-four."

I come back into phase, giant construct talons pulling at the dome even as I grab control of the broadcast systems to prevent them cutting the feed. Huge chunks of bombproof material fly away as the dome fails before my attack, and I toss it behind me as I float inward and release the Praexis Demons. Assembly security storm inside only to be forced to duck and hide as my horde makes its attack runs. They're under strict instructions not to eat anything that isn't Reach, but they can actually deliver quite precise bite wounds.

Phil storms up to the Reach soldier behind the force field, using it to partially cover his approach. As the soldier comes out to take a shot he accelerates, drawing a long blue-glowing knife. He takes a shot to his force field and stabs, blade passing easily through the soldier's own defences. The soldier falls back and starts collapsing, so Phil grabs hold and slashes his blade through his foe's chest before tossing him back and turning to face the horrified Convenor.

"I got the floor?"