With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Story Only)

[Mr Zoat]

11th July
13:46 GMT

"Sorry about this."

The second Citadelian slumps to the ground, unconscious, while fire from… A group of Gordanian clansmen steadily abrades my construct barrier. I might have Amalak's agreement in principle that it isn't worth handing Felicity over, but taking the risk doesn't seem at all sensible. Estrogina is -naturally- hard to scan for, so I had a Praexis Demon divert from eating the power cell of a field artillery piece to the conference centre. She's cautiously pulled the knives out and bound her wounds, but she doesn't seem inclined to go anywhere. If she is still capable of doing so.

I thrust my barrier forwards, causing the Gordanians to duck for cover as I establish a new barrier just behind it. Ring scan shows Ms Gozzi's team inside the fortified structure we're fighting outside and I don't want them to decide to kill anyone else. Talking the Citadel fleet down will be hard enough without deaths that we can't semi-legitimately blame on the Omega Men. Gordanians are quite a bit more resilient than Humans and wear decent armour, but it still leaves parts of their bodies unprotected and they aren't 'power ring protected' tough.

Filaments flash out, grab and subspace their guns -I'll give those back once things are settled- and stab into their necks just under their jaws. Stunned, all six of them fall to the ground. I expand my constructs, grabbing them and pulling them out of sight of the street. Next, I chain their ankles and wrists and chain the chains together. A fleeting moment of… Disappointment? Gordanians aren't super strong. They're roughly Kaldur-strong, but they aren't going to shatter titanium chains.

Am I really disappointed by that? No… It's more that I can contain super strong people but forcing a civilised resolution to a knotty negotiation is something I haven't trained for a year to achieve.

Sighing faintly, I knock on the door to the fortified structure. "Ahoy the house. I need to put these gentlemen somewhere safe and to retrieve my-" I only hesitate for a moment. "-slave."

Communication laser detected. Decoding.

"Submit verification code."

"Certainly, Ms Gozzi." Ring, do it.

Code transmitted.

"Verified. You better have a good reason for killing a Citadelian."

"Not dead, just stunned. Would you mind hurrying up? We've only got-."

The recessed entranceway opens inwards, an apparently normal wall with a door in the middle revealed to be a disguise for a seriously armoured mechanism. A Dredfahlian woman and an Aellan man in Amalak's uniform wait just inside, plasma carbines pointed past me at the empty street beyond. The woman switches her gun to one hand and then pulls out a small personal medical scanner and points it at the Citadelian. There's a quiet chime and she nods, returning the scanner to its holster.

"Get them inside, right now."

Down the corridor there's a empty room to the right. Ring, anything blocking transitioning?

No.

A series of orange flickers marks the Gordanians' disappearance and reappearance as I stride into the opening. "Where are you keeping Felicity?"

I know full well, but there are sensor-dampening materials in the armour that Amalak's people somehow snuck in here before the conference started. Probably long before, actually; if he does business here on a regular basis it would make sense to have hidey holes set up just in case.

The Aellan steps aside as I come in. "First on the left."

I nod and smile underneath my helmet. "Thank you." Obviously, he can't see the smile. I wonder if making the helmet expressive would..? No.

I walk along the corridor, turning into the room indicated. The rest of Ms Gozzi's group are in here, as is the woman herself. And Felicity, who looks up from next to her and waves at me. Ms Gozzi appears to be using a small workstation to check their communications gear. "…that we add to the bounty on Dark Flea. The intrusion methods required to access our equipment would be advanced enough to breach anything it would be practical to roll out across the organisation."

"Do you know why they targeted you?"

"Theories, but no proof." She doesn't look up as she continues playing a molecular mapper over the device. "Someone familiar with how we operate might deduce that we were the group most likely to have a detailed contingency attack plan. But if killing us and alienating us from one another was the aim, subverting the Citadelian communication network would have made more sense."

Communicator..? A filament darts out, takes the neck-mounted device from their guest and deposits it on the table next to her. "Tell you anything?"

This time she does glance at me for a moment, before taking a data probe from her tool rack and holding it against the communicator. Where would she..? Ah, a machine/mind interface. The fact that Coluans can handle those is part of how the Computer Tyrants are able to keep control. If she got away, it's a little surprising that she is still willing to use it. Mm, maybe Coluans -or at least her in particular- are just that rational.

"They did. There's an apparently authentic order in the system, telling them to kill the faction leaders."

"Are you saying they… Exercised their judgement, and chose not to?"

"I could believe they might refuse through cowardice, but… This order was sent to the entire battle group. The fleet commander at least should have followed it."

Would they have refused an order because it was immoral or stupid? Every record I have on the Citadel says 'no'. Were they bribed..? What, all of them? No. Jarko wouldn't have fled if he'd been paying them not to go after him. Amalak wouldn't have been showing that quite real and well controlled yellow… The Queen? Possible…

Worry about it later. "Felicity, with me, if you please."

She rises elegantly to her feet. "Certainly, master." She.. flounces over to me-. What's going on there? No, never mind. A filament tags her and refits one of my earlier armour variants to her size. She squeaks slightly as it appears around her. Right, reasonably protected. Estrogina still where I left her?

Confirmed.

The scenery flickers and we both appear in the air over the conference centre. I take a quick scan to make sure that we're not about to be shot by anything too heavy… No, it looks like the fighting has moved away… And.. those are Thanagarian mercenaries, herding the belligerent parties away from the residential area. Of course, the smaller groups haven't been involved in the post-fight negotiations and don't have the resources to set up safe houses…

Have to broadcast something… Later, later. I begin taking material out of subspace to assemble a new force cage.

"Mpff." Felicity tries speaking without triggering the armour's communication system. Ring, remote activate. "How do-?" The basic frame takes shape… I've got enough titanium. Something exotic would be better, but I don't want to hand what little orichalcum I have over to the Citadel. And once she's out of my hands I can pretty much stop caring. "Master, what are you making?"

"A cage for Estrogina. The Citadel are going to want someone to blame for this mess. The Omega Men would be best, but I don't know where they are and… I'm going to assume that you'd rather-" I start adding kinetic absorption units. The minimum number for it to function is sixteen. Twice that is safer. "-I didn't hunt them down."

She hesitates for a moment, a flare of fear forming at the idea. "No, master."

"So we can blame them, but they're going to want to take custody of someone and Estrogina escalated things into this mess. Bit of a lucky stroke for Amalak…" Back up power supply, external shielding… "But too bad. I need this to stop, and this is the most expedient way I can think of."

"What will they do with her?"

"Don't know, but she's a murderer and a pirate. She's not at the top of my list of priorities."

And since I plan on dealing with the Citadel and the Psions eventually, I can always rescue her later.

 

[Mr Zoat]

11th July
13:51 GMT

Estrogina staggers to her feet as I float into the room, Felicity just behind me. "What..? Didn't you think I was…" She coughs, then spits out a blob of sandy brown blood. "Worth killing?"

"No one's paying me to kill you, Ms Estrogina."

"And that..?" She pants. "You want to cage me."

"Are your wounds mortal?"

"What do you care?"

"My intent was to prevent you killing anyone. I was trying to disable you, not kill you. If you need-."

"So you can put me back in a aghhgraooughgrahh!"

Her angry rant trails off into a series of coughs, doubling her over as she expectorates more sandy brown phlegm.

Back in a..? She looks pretty disabled, but I don't want to take a risk with Felicity. Or myself. Ring, prepare to transition us away if necessary.

Compliance.

"What are you talking about? I haven't caught you before."

"I'm done talking to you!" She doesn't straighten up so much as stagger towards me, pulling my stilettos from her impromptu dressings and hurling them at me. I interpose construct barriers, the knives striking and failing to penetrate. I return them to subspace. Okay, how much muscular control do I think she has now? Ring, now she's got holes in her -I send a platform construct under the floor as she barrels towards us, ripping it free as she runs over it and sending her into the air- can you scan her better?

Partial internal view available.

Estrogina rolls off the chunk of floor before it hits anything, landing-

"Oowagh!"

-in a heap on the floor. Ah heck. I take more chains out of subspace, wrap them around her torso, neck and upper arms and hoik her off the ground and into the cage. Activate!

"AAAAAGH!"

She tenses her right arm and swings, the chain binding it snapping as it's pulled in separate directions by my construct and her arm. Then the part of the chain still attached to her stops, as does her arm. Estrogina's eyes widen.

"Orange Lantern to Amalak. Subject secured. Making our way to you now. Status of the Citadelians?"

"Unhappy, but I've sent them my evidence and they say they're prepared to accept my version of events. They then destroyed three of my ships, killing all on board, to show exactly how unhappy they were."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I was expecting worse. Jarko will be getting back shortly. It would be… Advantageous… If the fighting were fully suppressed by the time we present our case to Admiral Dakyn."

I lift the three of us off the ground and start flying us in the direction of the landing zone. "Understood. I'll make that my next highest.. priority…"

I see the dead Citadelian on the floor. With things as delicate as they are, knowing why they refused the attack order could be invaluable in working out how to stop the Omega Men messing things up any further. His implants…



I wait until Estrogina and Felicity are out of line of sight, then take one of the x-ionised stilettos from subspace. A construct claw grips the Citadelian's head and the knife cuts cleanly through his bulbous skull, bone and brain parting in a torrent of blood. Slice there and there… Construct tweezers appear and carefully pull the implant free. Due to the fact that they seldom leave Vega I don't have good records on Citadelian communication protocols. Handing this over to Ms Gozzi would probably be the best bet. Don't know if subspacing it will affect it, but I don't want to risk it. I create a construct-pouch on the outside of my armour and store it there. Next… I use a construct to pick up one of the fallen plasma weapons and shoot the Citadelian in the partially dissected head.

That should hide the missing implant.

I return the gun to where I got it, then fly after Felicity and Estrogina.

Felicity had her head turned as far as her armour would allow, looking back at me. "Master, she looks very badly injured. Might.. you..?"

"Yes. Estrogina, hold still."

"Get… Tail-raped by an Electroderm!"

First, the lungs. Two thin probes enter the wounds in her chest. Just the skin that's construct proof. Tissue, can we scan the tissue? Good, good. Suck out the blood, stick the tissue together with... Would that be toxic? Good. Stick it together, then pull out… Right. Can you work out a sedative from that?

Individual's physiology is too divergent from anything in this ring's database to suggest a safe sedative.

Okay. Anything life threatening left?

No, though the lack of records on this species' physiology means that this conclusion is not certain.

Fine. Keep monitoring her.

Compliance.

And open a secure line to Ms Gozzi.

Compliance.

"Orange Lantern to Ms Gozzi."

"Here. Speak."

"I've secured the implants of one of the Citadelian guards from the conference."

There's a momentary delay. "Did you kill him yourself?"

"No, of course not."

"Who killed him?"

Ring? Oh. "One of the henchmen of a minor party to the conference. Estrogina killed him and his grip on his weapon tightened as he fell. Why does it matter?"

"Killing a Citadelian is a thing that they do not let people walk away from. You disguised that you took the implants?"

"Of course."

"I would be.. interested in performing an analysis. No one else here will recognise the implants for what they are, and if they do they're thoroughly implicated anyway."

"I was hoping that you'd say that." I hold out my right arm, materials emerging from subspace to form a small courier drone. "I'm sending it your way now. Obviously, I expect a full report on your findings."

"Agreed." There's a slight fizz sound as she disconnects. I load the implant into the drone and send it on its way. It's tough, has a weak force field, sensor dampening and is pretty fast. On the off-chance that it's intercepted it will self destruct, destroying the implant.

I wonder why the Citadelians have those? The First Citadelian was by all accounts an extremely successful warlord. His clones shouldn't be as dim-witted as they are. Something to ponder, I suppose.

 

[Mr Zoat]

11th July
16:12 GMT

Eight of the heavily armoured assault escorts descend in perfect formation, heading for the landing zone. The original design looks Branx, but they've increased the armour and energy shields in exchange for increased energy consumption. I know from the ring's scans that they're also faster and more agile than they look; these will happily serve as interceptors, attack craft or escorts for landing craft. Since they're designed to deploy from a battleship and not to operate on their own for an extended period, the change in focus makes sense.

Weapon hardpoints rotate, ensuring that every part of the surrounding environment is covered. Larger weapons are trained on the attack craft that have landed nearby… or on me.

I smile and wave.

"Lord Be-. Ah, Orange Lantern?"

The representative from Raggashoon city government nervously makes the outward-pointing-thumbs gesture that is his people's polite request for attention. A few other notables have joined us for this meeting: the Flight Commander of the Thanagarian mercenaries as well as a couple of local business people. Some of the gang leaders from the negotiations -those with the sense to get their heads down when everything went sideways- are here as well, but they are being kept back by the Thanagarians.

"Yes?"

"On behalf of the City of Raggashoon, I wished to thank you for your assistance. If not for your aid, the fighting would most likely have carried on into the industrial and residential areas." The Flight Commander glances our way. "And your efforts at negotiation… We would have lost a great deal of business if one or more parties became permanently excluded from the Vega Systems."

"You're welcome. Though I should point out that Estrogina's people almost certainly will be excluded."

I wasn't exactly subtle about flying their clearly defeated and contained leader across a chunk of the city. Still, I was slightly surprised that they had the sense to flee rather than continue rampaging. Having not identified their ships in advance, I couldn't tell which of the runners they were on from a distance and I had better things to do than chase down and inspect every ship individually.

"The other Zamaron Pirates, certainly. But they were few in number, and the other members of her gang will just need to switch their transponders."

I nod. Perhaps I should think the worse of him for his attitude, but in reality that adaptation to circumstances is probably what has allowed this planet to… If not exactly flourish, then at least be a reasonable place to live under Citadel domination.

"Gozzi to Orange Lantern."

"Excuse me." My helmet comes out of subspace and appears on my head. Privacy on. "Orange Lantern here. What do you have?"

"They received attack orders. But those orders were countermanded immediately, before they could even decide how to put them into effect."

"What? Some sort of… Monitoring system? They keep records of what their soldiers are thinking, just in case one of them thinks something they're not supposed to?"

"No. I am familiar with that sort of-"

Idiot! "Of course, I'm sorry.."

"-implant. This was connected to the parts of the brain concerned with visceral responses. They received the order, then were told that it wasn't plausible that it was genuine."

"Interesting. Though I suppose that you can't-" A beam of white light illuminates an area in the centre of the ring of Citadelian ships as their high-gain teleporter activates. A moment later a squad of heavily armed Citadelian marines step out, weapons at the ready. Veterans. I can tell due to the more extensive nature of their cybernetic implants. "-take advantage of it yourself."

"Not with our own soldiers, certainly. Still, this is knowledge that the Citadel guards jealously."

"Happy I could help. Did you learn anything about how they were told it was ridiculous?"

"I'm not.. certain. If I were creating a system like this, I would connect each implant to my own brain. But I am Coluan; I can cope with that sort of input. A Citadelian could not. Not without substantial augmentation."

"Senior Citadelians have substantial cranial cybernetics."

"Not enough. They would need a full hyperprocessor array, as well as a communication system capable of handling the input and output."

"The Citadel Complex." Which would also explain why they use Gordanians. The system can only support so many users.

"That is the most likely location for it. Of course, they aren't simple drones. Jamming it wouldn't do much to disrupt them. If that were even possible."

"Interesting. Thank-" There's another flare of light, then Admiral Dakyn steps forth. His cybernetics extend quite visibly outside the limits of his bulbous head. "-you, Ms Gozzi."

Another fizz as she hangs up.

And next to the Admiral… A Psion. He's short, and looks doubly so next to the huge Admiral. His clothing is utilitarian and plain, his face inexpressive. And… And he has a.. quite disturbing way of conceptualising the people around him. Sources of knowledge best accessed by pulling it apart. Which he has already done to many things.

Guess he's a biologist.

Commodore Amalak, Mister Jarko and the Queen are already heading over to greet him. I note that neither of them are looking at the Psion. Social thing, or..? No, they're both worried about setting him off. As I understand it, Admiral Dakyn has already accepted our excuses in principle. This is… A personal and public display of obsequiousness designed to mollify his and the Citadel Empire's pride.

"Master?" I send my helmet back into subspace and Felicity just about manages not to hide behind me. "The… Psion."

Amalak gestures at the kinetic prisons where Estrogina and Muliebria float, powerless. Estrogina struggles more, while Muliebria just glowers down at them. Dakyn rubs the small beard on his chin, nodding as Amalak delivers his spiel again. For what it was worth I put some clothes on Estrogina. I suppose it's like the scene in Small Gods where Brutha is being executed; they chained him to an iron turtle which was being steadily heated in order to kill him slowly with as much pain as possible, but they gave him a loincloth out of decency.

She's a murderer hundreds of times over. Still… Just handing her over like this…

Jarko gestures in my direction and Dakyn nods again, briefly making eye contact with me. The Psion is still studying Estrogina, and I'm… Not going to look at what he wants to do with her. Jarko turns to face me and beckons me to join them.

"Felicity, with me. Remember, I'm mind controlling you."

She cringes. "Could.. you… Do that for real? Please?"

I frown at her, taking a closer look with empathic vision. Does she really-? Yes, yes she does. She's.. that scared of the Psion… And he's not at all interested in her. Saying that wouldn't help. Fear isn't rational. "Alright. I'll just make you want to help me again. And I'm turning it off as soon as we leave."

She nods, and her eyes glow orange and the sigil on her forehead flares as it takes effect. A half-second passes and she's back to smiling at me beatifically and I can't help but look deeper into the life she lived that made her think like this.

Heck.

Rescued by the Omega Men from a life of sexual servitude, got swept up in their purpose because she'd never really had one of her own, used to being controlled and happy to be-.

Another project, then.

I turn back towards the huddle. "This way, Felicity."

"Yes, master."

 

[Mr Zoat]

11th July
16:16 GMT

Admiral Dakyn is an extremely large man. Gordanians, Branx, Okaarans and Citadelians all share a similar.. 'template', averaging at around two and a half metres tall and being far bulkier than a Human of equivalent height would be. As a member of a race of mass-produced clones, Dakyn himself is exactly the same height as the rest of his cohort. His clothes are similar as well; the Citadel takes combat too seriously to let their officers add unnecessary ornamentation to their armour. The differences are more subtle: the gold and platinum bands on his tusks and the armoured cables which flow out of his skull and into the yellow metal of his armour.

He smiles, making sure I get a good look at his teeth. Oh. No, Citadelians don't show friendliness by showing their teeth. He's instinctively showing that he can bite me. It's more of a dick-waving thing than an actual threat, but it certainly isn't friendly.

"You are the Spider Guild's tame Beast?"

Unlike those of the other Citadelians, his implants are active continuously. Boosting his mental abilities? Providing him with information? Personally, I'd rather use G-Gnomes for that if I didn't have a power ring. On the other hand… He wasn't much of a looker to start with…

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four, Admiral." I can't really bow in this armour, but I favour him with a deferential nod. "How may I assist?"

"I was hoping to see the infamous orange ghosts. It seems that I am to be disappointed."

"Given what happened, I didn't think that waving weaponised life forms around was politic. But… With your permission..?"

"Yes. Show me."

I hold my arms out to the side, strands of orange light floating freely in the breeze as my Praexis Demons emerge. They look around, taking in their environment for a few moments before rising into the air.

"They seem… Small."

"They are. And given enough power, one can become a thousand in under an hour. Though if you want to see something a little more impressive…" I make a bit of a show of it, bringing my hands together and having them glow brilliant orange. Jarko takes a step away while Amalak's hand drifts a little closer to his sidearm.

Then the Hellwraith appears. Usually it keeps itself fairly insubstantial, but this time I feed it a little more power. And the result… Sort of a cross between a Warner Brothers Tasmanian Devil and a Praying Mantis, with the orange sigil in the middle of its forehead and on the back of its claw-hands. It floats just off the floor and looks around excitedly. Huh, this thing could be the first Demon off Earth.

"It can also seize control of people without my direct input."

A snort from the Admiral, who sizes it up for a moment before dismissing it. "Still small. But never mind. On behalf of the Citadel and of my batch-brother Emperor Damyn, thank you for bringing down this…" He turns his head to Estrogina. "Disruptive influence. And for foiling the Omega Men."

"My pleasure."

"My people will search for them. You will give me the one Omega Man you caught, and we will perform an interrogation."

"Noo."

"Ah." He snorts. "I mean to say, I will buy her from you. For a fair price."

"I'd be defrauding you. I've already interrogated her. She's a whore Tigorr picked up on Slagg and she bungled her first operation. They've already abandoned her. She was an Omega Man in the same sense that your toenail is a Citadel warrior." I glance at her. "Besides, I've already branded her." I look at him, letting my eyes flare orange. "Mine."

"Fine. Keep your whore." He sniffs, then jabs his right arm towards Estrogina's cage. "Load it. I will present them as gifts to the Emperor."

One of his bodyguard stows his gun and then ambles towards the cage. He hefts it off the ground with no obvious difficulty and strides back into the light beam.

"Admiral." The Queen is in a slightly crouched posture, trying to not be the only person here taller than him. "I am ready to resume negotiations. I believe that-."

"Bah." He looks at her with clear distaste. "Get on with it, then. Just make sure that the Citadel gets its cut."

"May I take it that you don't much care what shape the final agreement takes?"

"The Citadel has seen dozens of negotiations amongst our trade partners. We don't much care who comes out on top." He glowers at the Queen. "Except when it's our enemies."

"Commodore Amalak, Mister Jarko, may I make a suggestion?"

Jarko waves his left arm languidly. "By all means."

"Being here costs you, and the longer this takes the higher the chance there is of the Omega Men coming up with something else. So many local notables gathered together in one place is just too tempting a target."

"True, but these talks will be no simple matter. Everyone here is only interested in what they can get for themselves, and that inevitably means less for everyone else."

"What if they weren't?"

"That would be delightful. But if you think it'll actually happen then I've got a hyperspace bypass I can sell you."

"After fighting the Spiders… Do you want to throw your remaining forces against…" I gesture. "The Commodore. Or the smaller groups, who might decide to take advantage of momentary weakness? Do you want to try landing on the Nest World, or maintaining enough of a fleet to blockade it for… As long as you need to? Or taking on a serious Spider Guild war fleet in a few years if you destroy it?"

"If I wanted to, then I wouldn't have bothered coming here." He narrows his eyes slightly. "What are you suggesting?"

"I have mastered the orange light. I can… Use that to alter the desires of those around me. In this case… I could make everyone a little bit more agreeable. A little more.. honest in admitting what the war cost them, what they put in. And since I'm sure you were.. planning to use this meeting to agree territory and shipping rights… It would make everyone more.. reasonable about that as well."

He glances at the Queen. "I'm sure that your employer would appreciate your efforts on her behalf greatly."

"It's an area effect, Mister Jarko. She'd be just as much under the influence as you. And I could remove the effect at the end, give you the opportunity to make sure that you weren't signing your life away." He's very unconvinced. "Look… I'm going to be around Vega for a while. It's in my interests that you get a settlement that you can all live with. And one which maintains your current reasonably positive disposition towards me. You already know that you all want more or less the same sorts of thing. This doesn't have to be hard."

Amalak narrows his eyes slightly. "He does make a reasonable observation. I had intended to demand new ships from the Spiders as my reparations, but their docks are wrecked. I would benefit most from them being repaired, but I cannot rely on their honesty and I do not want to provide the entire suppression fleet myself."

Jarko scowls at him. "I don't know what the two of you worked out, Amalak, but I am not going to agree to-."

As one, the Citadelian marines bring their weapons to bear on him.

He freezes. "Admiral, I… Thought that we had an understanding..?"

Dakyn snorts. "This stalemate is costing the Citadel money. The damage to this city costs the Citadel money. And Citadel soldiers died today. I thought that I might have to hold a gun to all of your heads and dictate the terms of the peace myself, but it seems that X'Hal has smiled upon us all. Amalak?"

"I think that further delay would be.. stupid. And wasteful." He looks at me. "Under the proviso that the final decision will be checked free of your influence and that no influence lingers, I will.. agree."

The Queen spreads her upper arms. "I will consent to this also."

Dakyn makes a slightly different snort. Satisfaction. "Well, Jarko? Do you say 'yes', or do I kill you and ask your successor?"

Jarko doesn't look happy. But he knows a fait accompli when its barrel is being waved in his face. "Fine. But I'd best get something worthwhile out of this."

 

[Mr Zoat]

11th July
17:01 GMT

"…can't just rearrange the crew complements." Jarko waves his left arm at the order of battle display. "Which would be the sensible thing. Each ship that survived wants new crew, and won't countenance taking personnel from their 'rivals'. And anyone they get will either know nothing or have.. 'conflicting' loyalties."

The Queen quickly reviews the casualty lists. "Many of these vessels could benefit from increased automation. That would reduce the requirements for crew. We could include that in your refit program."

"I prefer ships run by people. And my people do as well."

Amalak nods. "I have a training academy on Rooduun."

"For your people?"

"Not exclusively. Several worlds in my sphere of influence send military cadets there. If you wanted to offer a 'placement program', or avail yourself of its service, I am sure that we could… Come to terms."

Jarko nods. "That's a possibility. Perhaps…"

11th July
17:19 GMT

Amalak shrugs. "I think it will be easier to abolish the entire class, rather than keep them in service or upgrade them. Of course, that does present a problem of covering my existing obligations until the work is complete."

Jarko smiles. "Just do what I do and use freelancers. You still have more than enough force to crush any stupid enough to try stabbing you in the back."

The Queen pulls up a detailed list of the ships Amalak is writing off. "Handing these ships over to us would substantially increase the speed with which we can rebuild our orbital infrastructure."

"Perhaps… But I would still have cash flow concerns."

"A simple matter." The Queen rearranges the build order. "Allow those who assist you to move ahead in the priority queue. That would allow you to have them test your new ship designs. And if they prove themselves capable, you could offer them more permanent contracts later."

He frowns. "The delays…"

"Under the agreed timetable, the delays would be inconsequential where fleet actions are concerned. Our infrastructure build up would eventually reach the point where we could make good on your losses so swiftly that you might need to delay us while you trained new crews."

Amalak nods. "In that case, agreed."

11th July
17:33 GMT

"…untaxed access to Vega." Several other minor faction leaders nod as the Khundian man gestures at the star chart. "A safe harbour's useless if we can't use it."

"Well…." Jarko doesn't really look abashed. But he does manage to look mildly self-conscious about his actions. He doesn't exactly control the area around Vega, but his people are generally active in this region. Attacking merchants carries greater risks than attacking the people who attacked the merchants, particularly if you know where those attackers are going to go. Heck, just demanding that they hand over their cargos at less than black market rates has been a fairly nice earner for him. "I could… Agree substantial discounts… For comrades in arms. But at the same time I would want good conduct guarantees. Attack my people or make trouble for me and I would be… Displeased."

The Khundian waves his hand dismissively. "Your house, your rules."

11th July
17:58 GMT

"…Nest would become a shipyard for construction and maintenance." The Queen moves a few designs around the holo display. "This will allow you to monitor our growth without it impacting your other activities. In turn, it allows us to grow in a way which does not threaten you."

Amalak nods. "While tying our fleets to you for their upkeep and you to us for protection, since you could hardly protect yourself from a dedicated attacking force with-" He brings up their projected fleet strength. "-this."

"Just so."

Jarko waves his right hand in a circle. "Makes sense to me. Stick to that and we won't have any problems."

11th July
18:34 GMT

"…tax travellers rather than simply stealing from them." Jarko indicates his fleet action records. "It's a regular profit for far less aggravation. And makes it much less likely that anyone goes running to the Green Lanterns."

Amalak nods. "It occurs to me that we have effectively approached a very similar position from opposite ends."

"Hah! Yes, just so. Did you know that I started out as an arms dealer?"

"I… Have heard that version of events. I don't think that I ever heard the whole story."

"Oh, I was backing a rebellion on a prison colony world called Asryx. Kranaltine used it as a dumping ground for their criminals for centuries… And proceeded to treat their descendants as criminals themselves and ignore all the ill-feeling that attitude created. So, I was contacted by…"

"Impressive work."

I look away from the merrily conversing outlaws and to the Psion who stands to my right. "Thank you. High praise from a member of a species who have mastered morally dubious sciences."

"Gun-fighting to a peaceful accord in less than a day-tenth." He turns his head towards me. "Will you really release them? Or simply tell them that you have, and leave them under your power?"

"I wouldn't undermine myself by breaking my word." I take a quick look over the desires of all of the meeting's participants. "Besides, this serves my interests too. Do you think they'll have another meeting like this without inviting me along?"

He thinks for a moment. "No. You appear to be a civilising influence."

"And I'd much rather that you didn't dissect them to find out how it works."

His eyes narrow slightly. "Are you telepathic as well?"

"No. You're not that hard to read. Also, it wouldn't work. It doesn't leave a physical trace."

"Mmm. A shame."

We both turn back to the pirate gathering, which appears to be a good deal more light-hearted than the original meeting. There was a book I read, back on Earth Prime. There'd been some sort of disease pandemic and only a small number of augmented Humans were immune to it. They were left to find a cure while as many other people as could manage it went into cryogenic suspension. After they succeeded they tried to manage the restoration of society, only for their guidance to be soundly rejected as the newly re-emergent groups violently contested with one another for dominance. Towards the end of the book, one of them released something she called a Human genetic patch. It was a virus that would alter Human DNA, altering everyone affected so that they received a greater psychological reward for cooperation than competition. Under its pervasive influence civilisation stabilised… And then people developed an immunity to the transmission vector.

The pirates aren't immune to me.

I'm going to try and cure this Sector's ills by civilising it. Not by smashing it flat. This probably isn't what the Omega Men wanted, but I think it would be what Alan would want. Civilisation develops because cooperation works better than brutal, ceaseless competition. And with a little help, I think this lot will come to see that. From piracy to demanding money with menaces… Which is basically what taxation is. From fighting to hold territory to policing it. Heck, this deal will even ensure the local Spider Guild Nest's survival and security without them needing to rearm. I'll need to keep an eye on it, of course…

The Psion walks away, heading back towards Admiral Dakyn's party. I make momentary eye contact with the Admiral himself and he stares into me, as if-.

That's… Odd. For a moment it looked.. like there were two different sets of desires…

That… May warrant further investigation. Later. For now, I've got a peace conference to conclude.

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th July
03:48 GMT

"Orange Lantern. You appear to have acquired a fleet."

Green Lantern Green Man floats in space in front of me, just the other side of the halfway point across the moat of stars marking the 'start' of the Vega systems.

"They're not… Following me."

His face is fairly inexpressive, but he doesn't look particularly impressed. He raises his right arm and points over my shoulder. "I can clearly see them following you."

"Oh. No, sorry, I was thinking.. two different meanings for that word.. and your ring went for the wrong one. I mean they're not working for me."

"And do you work for them?"

"I'm.. sort of under contract with the Spiders until the Queen gets back to her Nest."

"Under contract for what?"

"She hired me to protect her during the peace conference. You see, her Nest tried expanding and the local pirates.. objected."

"I was aware of the fighting. I took the view that the more pirates and Spiders who killed each other, the better off this Sector would be."

"I.. took the view that… The way Vega is, all that would do is lead to the creation of new pirate groups, and that it would be better in the longer term to civilise these ones."

"Civilise? Orange Lantern, the only reason that I allowed you unobstructed passage here was so that you could deal with Larfleeze. I have spent most of the time since our last meeting hunting down Larfleeze's Construct Lanterns. What have you done?"

"Negotiated a peace settlement between the major actors which will see the Spider Guild's Nest World become a shipyard, one of the largest pirate groups become a private military company and the other turn into an independent stellar nation. Er, and allied to each other."

"You-?"

"The Crown Imperium isn't getting Asryx back, but since they haven't exercised any effective control of it for the last eight years that's not really a big change in the status quo."

"Did you also share your anti-Green Lantern techniques with them?"

"No… But they already have weapons that can kill you-."

"Not on the level of what you have. What are you trying to do here?"

"Green Lantern, most civilisations begin violently. I'm trying to improve the state of Vega by working with-."

"Violent criminals."

I sigh. "Yes. Because they're the ones in a position to make this change." I regard him for a moment. "So… Are you going to let them past?"

"What happens if I say 'no'?"

"Then I would -regrettably- be forced to defend them. At least until the Queen manages to return to her Nest. Plus… They almost certainly brought Psion-built weapons with them for this gathering, so on the off-chance you got away from me there's a good chance you'd still die, and I'd.. really rather that didn't happen."

"And if I wait?"

"I'd.. obviously rather that you give them the time to adapt… See if they backslide. But.. I.. wouldn't involve myself."

He closes his eyes, bowing his head slightly. I try and keep my glow down while he considers the issue. He may be a pernicious individualist by Uxonian standards, but by Human standards he's pretty darn selfless. If he decides that I'm in the wrong I'm going to get my first real fight against a Lantern versed in my techniques who isn't treating it as a training exercise. And.. he's using my techniques to prevent me seeing anything but green light when I look at him.

Of course, generating constructs myself might well be seen as an attack.

"Do you intend to deal with Larfleeze quickly?"

"I'm prioritising the Citadel Empire. Larfleeze has been content to sit in his cave since we convinced him that I'd died… I don't think-."

"How long?"

"With a little luck, a couple of weeks."

His eyes open, the green glow he's emitting dying down a little. "I accept death as the inevitable result of my work, but I do not seek it needlessly. Perhaps the pirates'.. alliance will bring stability to this region. Perhaps it will not. In either case, I can give it a little time to demonstrate its nature."

"So..?"

"I will stand aside. They may pass." Inside my armour I sigh with relief. "I will monitor the situation closely. If I see them using this opportunity to rearm and expand their territory, I will request the assistance of the Honour Guard in bringing this Sector to order."

"Understood."

There's a flare of green light as he disappears.

I wait a moment before transitioning back to the Queen's ship. "Orange Lantern to commanders. He's moved off. Bear in mind that this is temporary, and he will be returning to normal anti-piracy duty once-" Ships are already activating their faster than light systems, glowing or distorting as they accelerate out of the Vega Systems. "-you leave."

"Well done, lad." Jarko's face appears on my armour's internal screen. "Are you sure that you won't consider working for me on a more permanent basis?"

"I'm afraid that I'm going to be busy for the foreseeable future."

"Very well. Stop by Asryx next time you're in the region." He turns away. "Engage."

Space bends around his ships for a moment, then they're gone. A moment later his face is replaced by that of Commodore Amalak. "What did it cost you to secure his consent?"

"Nothing. But… He's going to call in reinforcements if the local level of violence doesn't go down."

"We would be de-escalating anyway, even without the new compact. Still, I will remember it. Good fortune to you, Orange Lantern."

His screen goes blank, his larger ships glowing white-blue. Strands reach out and touch his smaller ships, then the whole network flashes as the ships accelerate away. I watch them go for a moment, then transition to the Spider Guild command ship's upper access portal and trigger the mechanism. They may not use airlocks on this ship, but they don't leave gaping holes where someone might shoot them. A moment passes and the material making up the armour is sucked inwards, allowing me to transition inside.

Felicity is standing as far away from any of the Spiders manning the bridge as she can, the orange sigil on her forehead clearly showing through the gloom. I fly over to her as the Queen reorientates herself towards us.

"Thank you for your service, Orange Lantern. My Nest is in a better position now than I had dared hope we would occupy after the negotiations."

"Happy to help. And… Um…" I clear my throat. "Sorry about-."

She crouches slightly. "An innocent misunderstanding. You cannot be faulted for it after I refused to tell you more of my physiology."

Okay, I'm going to take it. "I'll be certain to visit your Nest next time I'm in the area."

"Yes. I would-" Her legs do a sort of.. shuffling motion. "-like that very much."

The f-? You know what? No. I take Felicity's right hand firmly in my left and extend my environmental shield over her.

Ring, get us out of here.

Compliance.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Tamanarama

12th July
11:03 GMT

The concierge waves as Felicity and I walk away from the front desk, left hand playing with one of the blank platinum disks I used to make payment. "Be sure to recommend us to your friends!"

I wave back absent-mindedly with my right hand as I hold my left to my ear. "Ring, connect me to the Thanagarian network. Flight Leader Karn, if at all possible."

Compliance.

Felicity steps out into the hotel's front garden, taking a moment to stretch in the natural sunlight. Though the off-worlder parts of the city are mostly set up to cater for piratical thugs, there are more salubrious venues for piratical chiefs and the occasional wealthy merchant or dignitary. Most things inside were scaled to be comfortable for those of a Citadelian build… And resilient enough to be survive being used by them. They were willing to change it around for we smaller-framed humanoids, but I told them not to bother.

"Blades of Alstair, Flight Leader Karn responding. If you want to hire us, you should get in touch with-."

"No no, nothing like that."

There's a slight pause. "Orange Lantern. I hear we've got you to thank for yesterday."

"Hey, that fight was all the Omega Men's doing."

"I was referring to the fact that our contract's being terminated early. And from the sounds of it we're not likely to get much work in this region for the foreseeable future."

"I'm not sorry for that." I stroll out of the hotel, Felicity turning to blink slowly at me. Affection and general contentment. "So, you all shipping out?"

"The commander's making calls. We're packed up and ready to leave, but we'd much rather have a job to go to. Even if it's just babysitting a merchant convoy." I hear an amused exhalation. "I don't suppose you've got any use for five thousand Thanagarian mercenaries?"

"What sort of naval units do you have?"

"Mostly small attack craft. We've got a cruiser and a support-carrier, but those are more our bases of operation than things we'd want to use in a fight."

Huuh. "What sort of level of risk do you take?"

"We can talk prices over anything short of an outright suicide mission, but we prefer jobs to be either quick, local or low risk. Personally, I wouldn't mind a quick strike attack commission. Get the rust off my mace before I forget how to use it completely."

"How about..? Training work? If a planet was remilitarising and needed experienced people?"

"You can't defend a whole planet with what we've got, but if the threat wasn't imminent? We'd probably take it. Where did you have in mind?"

"Ohhh… My homeworld is probably going to start getting serious about space travel in the next few years. Is there somewhere I can get in touch with you again without chasing you down?"

"We've got feedsite links on Thanagar and Alstair, but that sounds like a long term contract. If we're busy then we won't be able to take it."

I nod. "Fair enough. I was planning to head to Thanagar in a little while anyway. Good luck finding a commission."

"Good fortune doing… Whatever it is you're planning on doing. Karn out."

I lower my left hand, increasing my pace to catch up with Felicity. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, Mast-"

"You don't need to-"

"-er."

"-call me that. Particularly after-."

"You're the one who offered to brush my hair." Another blink. "How could I have known that you only meant my mane?" I close my eyes, bowing my head slightly. "Do I not.. please you?"

"I will.. say this once, and then I'd.. quite like to drop the topic. I… Have what some may regard as an excessively romantic view of sex. Plus, my empathic abilities make me unusually aware of what you're feeling, and.. I'm.. proud enough to only want to have sex with people who want to have sex with me, not one who doesn't object to it."

"That isn't what I asked."

I look over the tight-fitting and.. 'well ventilated' clothing she's wearing. I did offer to get her something else, but she seems to prefer it. "Yes, I find you attractive."

She nods, looking pleased. "Will we be travelling by ship or by your ring?"

"Ring. There shouldn't be a problem with us spending a few days on the surface."

"Kalista.. told me that the Gordanians keep away visitors. Would we not stand out?"

"Yes, but they don't have good communication infrastructure. And Gordanian intelligence isn't particularly good. They probably won't even know that we're there."

Her ears straighten slightly. A nod. Right then. Ring, my armour, Karnan-friendly space armour for Felicity and then plot route to near-Rashashoon space.

Compliance.

A filament touches Felicity, a slightly upgraded version of the armour I lent her yesterday manifesting around her. I tried to work out if there was a way to allow her ears space without making the helmet huge or compromising the protection it provides, but as far as I can work out there isn't. But apparently pinning them flat against her head isn't that uncomfortable. She shifts slightly awkwardly, trying to get comfortable without accidentally brushing her fur backwards.

"Three, two, one, transition."

The street disappears, replaced by local space. Far less busy than it was when I first arrived, though I see a couple of local tugs picking up debris from one of the earlier fights. Admiral Dakyn is still around, but his fleet is on the far side of the planet at the moment.

Ring, plot warp to interstellar space just outside the Vega seventeen system.

Compliance. Course calculated.

"Next stop, the edge of the Tamaran system's Oort cloud. Warp in three, two-."

"Will it hurt?"

"No, of course not. I'm warping the space around us, not warping us. Two, one."

Once more the starfield shimmers, our surroundings turning orange. Almost as soon as it starts it ends, and the only obvious difference is that the planet behind us has disappeared.

"Is that.. it..?"

"We're not quite there yet." But now that no one's watching… I hold my right hand out in her direction, orange mist floating through her faceplate as the brand evaporates. "I want to see what the Gordanians have on hand before we go any further."

Ring?

An image appears in my mind. One… Space station at a Lagrange point. An old Tamaranian shipyard seized after the last war, uparmoured and upgunned. It has interdiction field generators, but they're not set up to stop any form of FTL I use. Three clanships, modified for launching kinetic torpedoes. Orbital strike weapons that most people around here don't bother with because they're next to useless in ship-to-ship combat. Just the thing for killing thousands of unprotected civilians, though. Nothing I can't.. take…

Tamaranian life signs on the station. I'll need to make sure they're safe before taking aggressive action.

Ring, plot warp to Tamaran. The side of the planet away from the station.

Compliance.

Warp.

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranian 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. Tamaranians 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 Tamaranian.

"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."

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranians 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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranian-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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranians 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 Tamaranians 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?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranians 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."

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranians' 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 Tamaranians 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?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 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 Tamaranians 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 doing. I hadn't realised that the princesses were elsewhere, so I imagine that I'll be spending some time recovering them.. and… Whatever other Tamaranians 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 unarguably 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 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..?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th July
22:33 GMT

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

Huh.

Ring, what do the Tamaranians 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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranians, 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 Tamaranians from you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranians, 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.

Tamaranian 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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranians, 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."

 

[Mr Zoat]

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."

 

[Mr Zoat]

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."

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 burner 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.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th July
02:49 GMT

I try not to give the Tamaranian 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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranians 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."

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Karaltine."

"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 Tamaranian 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.

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranian 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?

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranians. And to do that, I need to be somewhere visible.

Ring, where would the Okaarans record their Larfleeze sightings?

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranians. 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?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 them 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 decorated 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 Tamaranians 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 Tamaranians 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."

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranian slaves from that Gordanian outpost and then a short time later a construct slave arrives in a system holding Tamaranian 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."

 

[Mr Zoat]

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 Tamaranian 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 Tamaranian 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."