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

18th September 2013
07:11 GMT -1


Senior Pilot Niraan Tel looks down at the wrecked ship through the shuttle's belly camera. "Yes, that's well within our lift capacity. Do you want me to pick it up?"

"Yes please. I didn't realise that shuttles like this had dedicated haulage tractor beams. Doesn't that negate the purpose of having a cargo hold?"
Ah, clearing wrecks from sea channels and harbours that went unmanaged during the Anti-Life? I mean, the really important shipping lanes probably got cleared right quick, but less critical ones... They might have languished for years if not for super-powered aid.

"Ah… It's an either-or. Our mass manipulation system doesn't care much if the mass is inside or outside. Inside lets us fly faster and strap things down, but as long as you don't want it hauled out-system this works fine."

"Neat."
And trying to fly at any significant speed is just asking to snap bits of hull apart. Because cargo ships aren't designed to fly.

She side-eyes me for a moment as she works the controls. "Can I ask you questions?"

"I sometimes wonder how much easier things would be if everyone did that."
I mean, OL, you don't know everything, and you don't have a monopoly on Common Sense either. That's for your alternate self.

"Ah…"

"Sorry. Yes, you can. In fact, I strongly encourage it."

"How come you're not doing this? I love this fat bird, but a power ring would be a whole lot faster."
Because it's like using a pile-driver to press a thumbtack. Massively overpowered for the task.

"Ah, two reasons. Firstly, there are a lot of these ships. Between the sheeda and the Anti-Life, it's… Not been a good couple of years to be a wet sailor. Us Lanterns try to focus on the most urgent and important things, and since these need to get taken to a dry dock or a breakers yard eventually but don't need to get taken there right now… We wouldn't be getting around to if for a few years, if ever. Secondly, because you aren't used to interacting with humans, so we want to give you a job where you have to interact a little bit, but not too much."
And he can't just reduce them to constituent materials because they might be reclaimable and their owners can't be reached? 🤔 Some of them might be so damaged it'd be cheaper and faster to take the materials and just build a new one. At least dismantling stuff will provide work for people in need of money.

A turn of a dial, and a hull-broken container ship floats upwards from the shore… For a few metres, and then the weakened part snaps and the prow falls back onto rocks.

"Sorry, nothing I can do about that. The field doesn't completely neutralise mass or momentum. If it isn't solid enough to hold together, it breaks. Have to make a second trip."
Plus, as I said, most large ships aren't designed to fly, much less hold their own weight together without the support of water or an extensive dry-dock.

"It's fine. Set course for Hartlepool."

She fiddles with her route planner for a moment, then rotates the shuttle and gradually accelerates us in the direction of Britain.
This particular ship was headed for the wrecker's anyway, then. I'm guessing this one drifted away from moorings and ran aground somewhere awkward.

"And…" There's a slight awkward tension in her flight muscles. "Why are you, a Lantern, here with me now?"

"You're in charge of the shuttle crews, right?"

"I have seniority, but… It's like in the military. The officers are in charge. I just organise things."
Which means you're basically doing all the work of being in charge without the corresponding pay-rise. Yippee.

"And your commanding officer is..?"

"I thought it was you."
And OL is delegating that command to Mister Atom and the League for the most part. This is just liaising work.

"Ah. Well, welcome to LEGION, the food is adequate."

"Thank you, sir."
Eh, adequate works when you're serving it to hundreds of different species with their own palates, preferences and nutritional needs.

"Hm. Alright, it's recently become painfully apparent to me that my understanding of Thanagarian Empire society isn't all that it might be, so I'm going to give you two options. The first is, I don't tell you anything. That way you won't get in trouble for finding out something you're not cleared for, but you might end up not having the knowledge required to navigate a situation you find yourself in. The second is, I give you a full explanation."
That's actually a reasonable offer. She's going to have a hard time deciding how much responsibility she wants.

"And that could get me in trouble."

I shrug, and she's side-eyeing me again. "It's the lack of wings, isn't it? Makes the body language hard to read."
I wonder if generating construct wings could assist in body language? Or would it feel like an uncanny valley prosthetic?

"A little. It's… Disconcerting."

"Because you keep thinking that I'm a crippled thanagarian?"
The drawbacks of them sharing similar body plans, other than the wings.

"… Yes sir."

"I'm not offended: obviously I look like that. It would be worse if you could actually see my shoulder muscles."
An interesting perspective. I suppose it'd be like dealing with a human without certain facial features.

She nods. "Because you don't have the muscles to support wings, and a thanagarian who'd lost their wings would. What..? What sort of thing would I be finding out about, sir?"

"A slightly more accurate than official version of Thanagar-Alstair relations, Nth metal production rates and Seven Devil-worshipping cults."
In other words, exactly the sort of thing she'd get in big trouble for knowing.

"Those exist?"

"Yes."

"I mean, now? Today?"
To be fair, it'd be like us learning there were actual cultists of some ancient religion running around doing terrorisms.

"Unless the fellow who tried to blow up a star last week was the last of his faith, yes."

"This star?"
Fortunately, no. That would have resulted in a far larger crossover drama.

"No, Antares, but the technique would work on this star. Most stars, actually."

"I thought they… Died out."
Wishful thinking, sadly. As long as there's someone who remembers the Devils and what they can offer, there's going to be people foolish or greedy enough to accept in hopes of gaining power.

"I'm afraid not. We've actually got a woman who was alive when your ancestors originally overthrew the Seven Devils on Earth if you want to ask her about it."

"That was thousands of years ago."
Ah, she's about to get her first real taste of Earth Bullshit™.

"Yes."

"Thanagarians don't live that long."
You'll note that he didn't say that she was thousands of years old, ma'am. Which she isn't.

"Not usually, but where Earth's concerned, you get some really weird outliers. Most people from my adopted home country are between two and three thousand years old, and humans usually die in their mid-eighties."

"Is this part of what could get me in trouble?"
No, most alien races who encounter Earth Bullshit™ have this sort of reaction. It's hardly a secret.

"N-. Well, it could get you in trouble, particularly if you visit, but it's not related to what I was talking about."

"I… Think I should think about it."
Probably for the best. I don't remember if... Kendra? Is particularly looking for thanagarian guests anyway.

"An eminently sensible -if indecisive- decision. Do you have any questions?"

"Is Katar Hol related to Paran Katar?"

"Yes, his son, actually."
I'm guessing there's a strong familial resemblance, despite the oddly different-yet-similar names. Seriously, it's like a reverse patronym.

Her wings tighten in shock. "What's the.. man whose father invented Nth metal synthesis doing here?"

"He's an idealist with a strong commitment to public service." I allow my eyes to flare. "Trust me, I checked."
And depending on the state of the government of Thanagar, that can probably feel threatening to said government.

"You did a background check?"

"I looked at his soul. It's sort of like how I know that you're not a Crow or an informant, which honestly surprised me. Now, about your LEGION personnel file…"
Ah, the other reason he's here: Paperwork.

It's always fun to see an extra-terrestrial reacting to learning about Earth Bullshit™. For instance, learning that a Thanagarian castaway has been serially reincarnating for several thousand years due to an ancient curse. I expect our earnest shuttle commander here will be having a good long think about hearing what OL can tell her after that...
 
I expect our earnest shuttle commander here will be having a good long think about hearing what OL can tell her after that...

After having a good long drink. Or three. Of the strongest stuff she can find.

But it could be worse! It could be Earth of the mainstream continuity in the present day, which I think is up to nine Green Lanterns.
 
After having a good long drink. Or three. Of the strongest stuff she can find.

But it could be worse! It could be Earth of the mainstream continuity in the present day, which I think is up to nine Green Lanterns.
Earth does seem to have a habit of collecting Lanterns, probably the Life Entity's influence.
 
Meetings Squared (part 23) New
21th May 2284
02:36 GMT -7

The Washington Brotherhood has been busy. The roads which they needed to support their advances south, east and north have been cleared of debris and kept clear of snow. I've even seen groups under the direction of Brotherhood knights carrying out road repairs with either reconditioned equipment or manual labour. No one's stopped us because we're one convoy of lorries amongst hundreds transporting materials and soldiers around their territory.

The one time someone did decide to hassle us, my borrowed scribe uniform and Abel's glowing eyeholes convinced them to limit themselves to a cursory inspection.

The roads we're on now are far less well travelled. We're driving in low gear and the trucks are fitted with snow tires, but we're still taking it a little slowly. Nice thing about nuclear-powered vehicles is that refuelling is less of an issue than…

I look up the side of the mountains surrounding us.

Than petrol.

I reach forwards and pick up the lorry's radio handset. "This is Krono. We're under observation."

The speaker crackles. "You know who?"

"Haven't poke their brains yet. Some people can feel it, particularly if they've been exposed to telepathy before. Is there anyone else it can be?"

"Local trappers. Brotherhood spies. Fucking Miscounts, Communists, ghouls..."

I frown. "Miscounts?"

"Raider gang. Used to be a big deal around here, until the Wardens drove them out. Probably a few survivors around. They'd have to have come through these mountains."

"Ah." I nod. "Well, the other problem with using telepathy with someone on the side of a mountain is that they might fall off."

"Right, lemme retune the radio…"

I return the handset to its cradle, and glance at my driver. She's another Warden of the White, nominated for the job because she has more familiarity with this area than anyone else. "Are there any landing strips up here?"

"Not so far as I know. Why?"

"If the N.C.R. goes to war with the Washington Brotherhood, they could use a staging area. Otherwise… How would you feel about being ruled over by a queen?"

"Huh?"

"East of these mountains is the Kingdom of Manitoba. They're a constitutional monarchy."

"I thought the Communists were in charge out east."

"Not any more."

"Good riddance. They were the main reason why Canada fell apart after the war."

"Oh?"

"Chinese and Russians shipped 'em supplies so they could fight the American occupying army. Half the time they just fought each other."

I nod. "Same thing happened in Afghanistan when the Russians invaded it during the Cold War. Britain and America supplied the local religious crazies with weapons, and they mostly just killed the other locals who were differently crazy to them."

"Right. So when the War ended, the Chinese sure weren't sending supplies no more. The Chinese mostly just nuked the places where the U.S. had bases, so Canada kind of still existed. Mighta got put back together."

I nod. "But the Communists didn't want to cooperate with the nationalists."

"Or anyone, or each other. Sure wrecked a whole lot of stuff, though."

"I take it your family's from Canada?"

She snorts. "What was your first clue, eh?"

The handset crackles. "Okay, we have contact."

I pick it up. "Who are they?"

"Outfit calling themselves Foxtrot Uniform. Wardens of the White. Apparently some of my old friends made it up here as well. They wanna check us out, but they'll take us. I'm pulling over."

My driver slows the truck, eyebrows raises. "Well shit. Good luck. Forgotten what that was like."

"Mm." We did take some food -mostly flour and salted fish- from Seattle, but taking even a few lorry loads of new people when you live somewhere that doesn't have all that much room for farming… That's a big deal. I don't know how tight knit the Wardens are…

**[I close my eyes, reaching out to my saucer and nudging the controls, bringing it closer and readying the plasma cannons.]**

Just in case.

Our lorry halts, pulling up alongside the lead lorry. The next three follow suit, and I'm very glad that these things have fully closed rear compartments and internal heating, because it is cold out there and I've never quite got the hang of heating myself comfortably.

Won't help outside…

"Alright, you stay in here where it's warm." I pull my coat tighter around myself to conceal my stolen scribe robes and then reach for the door. "I'll go and meet our hosts."

"Good luck."

I open the door and jump down -brrrh!- and then jog over to where Sergeant Matthew Willas of the Wardens of the White is waiting. He's looking a little nervous, though the pacing is probably just him trying to keep warm. He looks around as he hears me approach.

"Heh. Cross your fingers, Mister Wizard."

"Why? These are members of your organisation, aren't they?"

"Infighting between outfits wasn't unheard of. They might just decide that we're not worth the risk."

I raise my hands, and cross my fingers.

"Yeah, keep those raised."

I cautiously turn to see three soldiers in winter gear, guns pointed at us. Minds… Cautious, not planning on killing us. But would if they were ordered to do so.

"Hey." Willas nods. "Got my unit badge. Want me to get it?"

"For a start."

He slowly reaching into his coat, and pulls out a metal star. "Hotel Lima."

"Though you were dead."

"We mostly are. Though I'll warn you now, we got a Brotherhood deserter in power armour in the back. He's… Okay. Don't shoot him."

"If he's in power armour then we've got fuck all that could hurt him anyway." The foremost of the trio comes closer and checks the badge. "It's legit. Show me the rest."

Willas winces. "C'mon guys, it's cold out here."

"Show me."

He… Lifts up his coat and unbuttons his.. trousers, before… Mooning them, a star tattoo clearly visible.

Three guns are immediately lowered. "Yeah, it's him."

Willas pulls up his trousers in haste. "Though that was you, Conner. Knew you always wanted my ass."

"Yeah, great. Look, you're one of us so we'll take you, but we got our own problems. The Black Bastards sent most of their power armour north, but we got guys dressed up like knights massing to the East. Our trade routes are cut off and I'm pretty sure we'll be eating our boots before long. You might be better off just turning around and trying to get south."

I perk up. "Knights, you say?"
 
21th May 2284
02:36 GMT -7


The Washington Brotherhood has been busy. The roads which they needed to support their advances south, east and north have been cleared of debris and kept clear of snow. I've even seen groups under the direction of Brotherhood knights carrying out road repairs with either reconditioned equipment or manual labour. No one's stopped us because we're one convoy of lorries amongst hundreds transporting materials and soldiers around their territory.
And stopping every convoy would be a waste of their time and the convoys'. So Krono and company have a relatively free hand to sneak around, as long as they don't make any trouble.

The one time someone did decide to hassle us, my borrowed scribe uniform and Abel's glowing eyeholes convinced them to limit themselves to a cursory inspection.

The roads we're on now are far less well travelled. We're driving in low gear and the trucks are fitted with snow tires, but we're still taking it a little slowly. Nice thing about nuclear-powered vehicles is that refuelling is less of an issue than…
Nothing says 'all clear' like a black-clad giant clearly scowling at you despite showing no emotion on its helmet.

I look up the side of the mountains surrounding us.

Than petrol.
Ah, Krono's feeling someone up there? Rebels eyeing up a defenceless-looking convoy, perhaps.

I reach forwards and pick up the lorry's radio handset. "This is Krono. We're under observation."

The speaker crackles. "You know who?"

"Haven't poke their brains yet. Some people can feel it, particularly if they've been exposed to telepathy before. Is there anyone else it can be?"
Okay, definitely safer to try more mundane means of saying hello, then.

"Local trappers. Brotherhood spies. Fucking Miscounts, Communists, ghouls..."

I frown. "Miscounts?"

"Raider gang. Used to be a big deal around here, until the Wardens drove them out. Probably a few survivors around. They'd have to have come through these mountains."
I'm betting there was a story behind that name, but given they basically don't exist anymore, it's lost to history.

"Ah." I nod. "Well, the other problem with using telepathy with someone on the side of a mountain is that they might fall off."

"Right, lemme retune the radio…"
Well, that's polite of him. After all, those falling bodies might land on them. 😏

I return the handset to its cradle, and glance at my driver. She's another Warden of the White, nominated for the job because she has more familiarity with this area than anyone else. "Are there any landing strips up here?"

"Not so far as I know. Why?"

"If the N.C.R. goes to war with the Washington Brotherhood, they could use a staging area. Otherwise… How would you feel about being ruled over by a queen?"
Good old Krono, always thinking ahead. I doubt they could win this fight with, say, a few squads dropped by vertibirds, after all.

"Huh?"

"East of these mountains is the Kingdom of Manitoba. They're a constitutional monarchy."
And laying the groundwork for future diplomacy too.

"I thought the Communists were in charge out east."

"Not any more."
Sounds fatal. And messy.

"Good riddance. They were the main reason why Canada fell apart after the war."

"Oh?"

"Chinese and Russians shipped 'em supplies so they could fight the American occupying army. Half the time they just fought each other."
That seems to be a common occurrence. I bet it was mostly over differences of doctrine between cells.

I nod. "Same thing happened in Afghanistan when the Russians invaded it during the Cold War. Britain and America supplied the local religious crazies with weapons, and they mostly just killed the other locals who were differently crazy to them."

"Right. So when the War ended, the Chinese sure weren't sending supplies no more. The Chinese mostly just nuked the places where the U.S. had bases, so Canada kind of still existed. Mighta got put back together."
Joy of Canada being so large and relatively empty. The whole Nuclear Winter aspect was probably troublesome, but most of the ecology ecidently came off well.

I nod. "But the Communists didn't want to cooperate with the nationalists."

"Or anyone, or each other. Sure wrecked a whole lot of stuff, though."
Honestly, they're lucky the communists died out (or were wiped out.) They'd probably still be causing trouble after all this time.

"I take it your family's from Canada?"

She snorts. "What was your first clue, eh?"
Just a hunch.

The handset crackles. "Okay, we have contact."

I pick it up. "Who are they?"

"Outfit calling themselves Foxtrot Uniform. Wardens of the White. Apparently some of my old friends made it up here as well. They wanna check us out, but they'll take us. I'm pulling over."
'F.U.', eh? One guess who they're resisting. Lucky Krono spotted them before they could attack the 'Brotherhood' forces.

My driver slows the truck, eyebrows raises. "Well shit. Good luck. Forgotten what that was like."

"Mm." We did take some food -mostly flour and salted fish- from Seattle, but taking even a few lorry loads of new people when you live somewhere that doesn't have all that much room for farming… That's a big deal. I don't know how tight knit the Wardens are…
Yeah, could be a hassle to accept that many new mouths to feed. The folks could find themselves driving onwards.

**[I close my eyes, reaching out to my saucer and nudging the controls, bringing it closer and readying the plasma cannons.]**

Just in case.
No support like air support.

Our lorry halts, pulling up alongside the lead lorry. The next three follow suit, and I'm very glad that these things have fully closed rear compartments and internal heating, because it is cold out there and I've never quite got the hang of heating myself comfortably.

Won't help outside…
Suck it up, hero. You're the one who volunteered for this mission...

"Alright, you stay in here where it's warm." I pull my coat tighter around myself to conceal my stolen scribe robes and then reach for the door. "I'll go and meet our hosts."

"Good luck."
She's probably also thinking 'Glad I don't have to go out there in this. Poor bastard.'

I open the door and jump down -brrrh!- and then jog over to where Sergeant Matthew Willas of the Wardens of the White is waiting. He's looking a little nervous, though the pacing is probably just him trying to keep warm. He looks around as he hears me approach.

"Heh. Cross your fingers, Mister Wizard."
And for once, that's kind of accurate. Because he knows magic...

"Why? These are members of your organisation, aren't they?"

"Infighting between outfits wasn't unheard of. They might just decide that we're not worth the risk."
Oh, joy. Now you mention it...

I raise my hands, and cross my fingers.

"Yeah, keep those raised."

I cautiously turn to see three soldiers in winter gear, guns pointed at us. Minds… Cautious, not planning on killing us. But would if they were ordered to do so.
Well, you guys are disguised as Brotherhood.

"Hey." Willas nods. "Got my unit badge. Want me to get it?"

"For a start."
Since anyone can be handed a badge and told to show it off, as a cover identity.

He slowly reaching into his coat, and pulls out a metal star. "Hotel Lima."

"Though you were dead."

"We mostly are. Though I'll warn you now, we got a Brotherhood deserter in power armour in the back. He's… Okay. Don't shoot him."
Tough times make for strange bedfellows, after all.

"If he's in power armour then we've got fuck all that could hurt him anyway." The foremost of the trio comes closer and checks the badge. "It's legit. Show me the rest."

Willas winces. "C'mon guys, it's cold out here."
...Let me guess, a tattoo in an embarrassing place.

"Show me."

He… Lifts up his coat and unbuttons his.. trousers, before… Mooning them, a star tattoo clearly visible.
Lot harder to fake, anyway.

Three guns are immediately lowered. "Yeah, it's him."

Willas pulls up his trousers in haste. "Though that was you, Conner. Knew you always wanted my ass."
Oh, Myyy. </takei> Ah, old friends, I see.

"Yeah, great. Look, you're one of us so we'll take you, but we got our own problems. The Black Bastards sent most of their power armour north, but we got guys dressed up like knights massing to the East. Our trade routes are cut off and I'm pretty sure we'll be eating our boots before long. You might be better off just turning around and trying to get south."
Oh-ho. Looks like the Manitobans got a message in and are sending aid.

I perk up. "Knights, you say?"
We're totally gonna meet the Prince Consort again, aren't we?

Good thing Krono can clear up any potential misunderstandings before the Wardens started taking potshots at the Manitobans. They're probably going to make for a very useful hammer to start pounding on the Immortal's facilities here. Once Krono gets the word out, there's going to be a lot more folks heading that way in a rush...
 

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