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

[Mr Zoat]

17th August
09:23 GMT

The Admiral in the strange looking uniform of blue with gold decoration of the Crown Imperium raises a fluted glass in a toast. "To a truly satisfying campaign."

I nod to his as I raise my own in return. "To new allies."

The stuff in the glass isn't wine. It actually tastes vaguely minty, but it serves the same high-class social lubricant function as wine does on Earth. From the fact that there are several other glasses on the sideboard I'm going to assume that I wasn't the only person invited and from the lack of serving staff it seems likely that what he wants to discuss isn't for the ears of the lowlies. Oh, he wouldn't put it in exactly those terms, -not that 'lower orders' is much better- but the Crown Imperium is quite open about its aristocratic form of government.

"My other guests will be arriving shortly, but I thought that there were one or two things we should discuss between ourselves first."

Somewhere below us the Gordanian clans are on the receiving end of a hundred and fifty very angry Orange Lanterns, as well as hundreds of thousands of Imperial Marines and a lesser but still quite determined complement from the Karnans. Fleet operations were decisively concluded in our favour hours ago, but I think my fellow commanders and I wanted to remain 'on station' just in case anything demanded our immediate attention.

I nod politely. "Certainly." I'm not surprised. The Crown Imperium is the only stellar nation of any real size in this region of space. Certainly, it's the only one that never 'came to terms' with the various outlaw groups. And now that it's pretty much inevitable that we'll win here, it's only natural that they're looking to the future in which one of their near-neighbours is an Apokoliptian with a Lantern Corps under his command. I'm willing to do quite a lot to keep them on-side, as long as they don't get stupid about it.

"I understand that you've planted your standard on Tamaran. A curious choice, if you don't mind me saying so?"

"Tamaran was the only Vegan stellar state that fought the Citadel until they could fight no more. I see in them the potential for great things."

"The Karnans did something similar."

I smile. "The Karnans' reaction to the Gordanian uprising was probably more rational, but it was far less heroic. And it contained no real prospect of ultimate victory."

"And yet, here we are. The Karnans have a fleet-"

A mildly upgraded but far smaller fleet than the one the Gordanians destroyed during their uprising.

"-and Tamaran doesn't have an industrial base that can't be written off as a rounding error."

I frown. "Admiral, that's simply not true."

"Oh? Since when? Our intelligence reports are reasonably up to date."

"Since yesterday. We relieved the Branx of their shipyards and asteroid mining facilities. It will take a while to bring them up to full speed, but Tamaran currently has the largest shipyards in the region. Not-" I tilt my glass his way. "-quite so large as those of Karaltine, of course. But there's always room to expand."

Euphorian experts plus G-Gnomes aren't an immediate fix, but they'll get the job done far faster than the figure Admiral Oswin is now using in his mental calculations. Simply occupying Vega wasn't really a possibility for them; too much space, too many threats, not enough ships. But I imagine they'd be quite happy to have a puppet Karnan state as the dominant force in the region's politics. Heh. I'd assumed that Euphorix would be more of a problem. I'd prepared for that. Proxy influence fights weren't something that it had occurred to me might be a problem.

"Ah." Admiral Oswin nods. "That's one residual problem dealt with, then. Have you given any thought to the Psions?"

"I'm trying to work out a feasible technique for neutralising them that doesn't result in us killing them all. But… I don't see any need to hurry. It would be more in character for them to wait for things to stabilise than for them to take precipitous action."

He nods again. "Our analysts agree. I assume that you have no objections to coordinating on the problem?"

I shake my head. "Not at all. Though I should be clear: the Wombworld isn't Karna. There's no prospect at all of a successful occupation, and no obvious value in making the attempt."

"I'm in no hurry to throw the lives of my marines away attempting to take it by storm. Fleet action, do you think?"

"Combined action. My Lanterns should be able to take out their anti-ship defences if you don't mind bombarding the place."

"I would be delighted to." He drains the remainder of his glass and pours himself a second before raising the decanter interrogatively at me.

I extend my near-empty glass. "Thank you."

"How much thought have you given to the aftermath of the campaign?"

"That's where I've put most of my thought. I intend to create a resurgence of Tamaranian power, and have the resulting stellar nation secure, pacify and civilise this region. I will not allow Vega to continue to be a safe harbour for pirates and slavers."

"And the area outside Vega?"

"We don't want that to be a haven for pirates either. But… Tamaran is reindustrialising, and I have only so many Lanterns. If you wish to keep the peace there yourselves, be my guest. Tamaran can only benefit from having civilised nations as neighbours and allies."

"And Karna? We have a certain.. relationship with its people."

"I don't intend to force them into anything, certainly not violent conquest. My intent is for them to gradually slip into Tamaran's sphere of influence, but if they don't…" I shrug. "Then they don't. It will be far more useful to maintain a friendly relationship with them than it would be to have a world of vengeful serfs. I doubt that the Tamaranians would tolerate me trying to do to someone else what was done to them even if I wanted to. Which I don't."

"I'm pleased to hear it. I will of course convey your words to the Empress, but I'm not hearing anything that is against the Imperium's fundamental interests."

I wonder if this was how Stalin felt during the Fourth Moscow Conference?

"As we say on Apokolips, 'it's nice not to have to shoot your ally in the back immediately after finishing off your mutual enemy'."

He looks a little concerned at that, but I make a point of sniggering and he seems to understand that it was a joke. "Speaking.. of.. 'Apokolips', I was wondering-?"

The door on the far side of the room opens and a blonde Karaltinian man in a blue side-buttoning coat with a solidly yellow coloured five pointed star on the chest enters the room. There are a pair of yellow goggles holding back his fringe and his.. trousers are blue jodhpurs. The long shepherd's crook he carries in his right hand makes the identification easy enough, but I'm still a little curious…

He nods to me. "Lantern Gravyen."

"Prince Gavyn. Forgive me, but I thought that you were dead? Something about being pushed out of an airlock?"

He nods, a wry smile on his lips. "Not quite. I narrowly dodged the execution attempt and then I hid under the 'Starman' identity for years. But you can only save an Empire so many times before they feel obligated to pardon you."

I nod. "I know that feeling." Admiral Oswin passes his prince a glass and the three of us raise them slightly in a non-toast before taking a sip. "Who else are we expecting?"

"The Supreme Commander Gaharrugh of the Karna delegation, your princesses of course, and Queen Kalista and Sir Pren of the Omega Men."

I affect a blank expression. "The who?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

17th August
09:57 GMT

"…understand why you ask, but it doesn't really work like that on Apokolips."

Supreme Commander Gaharrugh's fur is mottled brown and dull orange, and he's wearing what appears to be a slightly modified -Karnanised, perhaps- version of the Imperial Navy's light body armour. Though for some reason his feet are bare, his claws tucked safely away to avoid poking holes in the carpet. He was a little surprised by my physical size -I imagine that he'd gotten used to generally being the largest person in the room- and started sizing me up almost immediately.

Queen Kalista smiles in a politely inquisitive manner. "Then how does it work?"

She's wearing a highly impractical purple, mauve and white dress that appears to be trying to conceal exactly how she's changed physically in the long years of conflict. She's certainly lost body fat, the life of a paramilitary space outlaw not precisely being conducive to regular quality meals. My ring scan shows me that there are minor scars across her body, from injuries that would have been simple to fix by most local standards. The Omega Men have to ration their medical apparatus. She's also put on more muscle, in a ropey marathon runner sort of way. I also feel the tug of very weak arcane probes coming from her as she tries to work out what the heck I am.

"You get what you grab. You keep what you can hold on to… Or at least, that you can convince others that you could hold onto if they chose to question the matter. I am the natural son of Darkseid, and as far as I know the youngest he's acknowledged. Since Father is ageless and immensely powerful, there is no point to having a formal line of succession. Politically, we have whatever power we are gifted by him; that is to say, essentially none."

The orange-haired man sitting at her right raises his eyebrows slightly. "You don't seem to be doing too badly?"

Sir Pren is wearing a slightly battered but well maintained suit of black and silver light armour, a suit he probably brought with him when he left Euphorix. He sent a brief mental probe my way when he first arrived. Quashing it presented no difficulty; he's far weaker than Chester or Lynne.

"We're not on Apokolips. Heck, I left so that I would get opportunities like this that I couldn't at home."

Admiral Oswin seems slightly pensive. "So you don't actually hold any sort of title at all?"

I shake my head. "None of us do. My eldest brother, Kalibak, Father's son by his first wife, has no title. Father's second son Orion, by his second wife Tigra, similarly has no title. My foster-brother Scott, no title. Father's chief aide DeSaad, no title." I shrug. "I think the only person who still has one is Uncle Drax, whose title 'prince' was granted by my grandmother mostly to irritate Father. But, please." I smile. "Apokolips is a very long way from Vega, and our social customs will have very little impact on events here."

I most sincerely hope.

Admiral Oswin face shrugs. "I.. merely wish to be sure that you have the authority to negotiate. I'm.. not entirely accustomed to.. negotiating with…"

"HahHAHA!" I grin at his discomfort. "You think I'm a Lowlie? Oh, that's marvellous."

Prince Gavyn leans forward slightly, his right hand slightly raised as a signal that the Admiral should back off. "We're simply curious about your affidavits. Have you been given the authority to negotiate for Tamaran?"

I shrug. "The princesses will negotiate for Tamaran. And anyway, what authority does Queen Kalista have?"

"Ah?" Prince Gavyn glances at her while she just frowns. "She's the queen?"

"Yes, but she doesn't rule the planet. Never has. Not that Euphorix played any role in this fight. And I think she and Sir Pren have perhaps ten fighters between them?" I shrug. "I don't really understand why they're included."

Sir Pren's jaw hardens. "We're included because we've been fighting against the Citadel for over a decade. We've fought and bled for a Vega free of their kind."

"Good going. My people have been fighting them for nearly two days." I hold out my left hand and generate a construct of the remains of Citadel Complex. "I think I know which of us has achieved something worth talking about."

"You'll notice that the Citadel's pirate allies were largely destroyed before you arrived?"

"Yes, but that was-." My goodness. "That.. mess on Rashashoon was you? Have you any idea.. how many civilians were caught in the crossfire? And not just in Raggashoon, out in pirate-controlled territory? They were carrying out orbital bombardments on civilian-inhabited areas to kill off other groups." I… "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking 'this is the only way to get rid of the people who have turned Vega into the mess it is today'. Any col-."

"I have a Lantern Corps. It would have taken us two days, maximum, to destroy any group that wasn't prepared to straighten out-."

Admiral Oswin makes a face as if he's just tasted something horribly bitter. "You'd give those animals a pardon?"

"Some, certainly. Any without specific obscenities to their names. At this point-."

"Princess." Queen Kalista turns to Koriand'r. "Are you truly prepared to let this man speak for you?"

Koriand'r scowls. "I am no more impressed by mass civilian deaths than Grayven is. And I will remind you that it was your recruitment of our brother that resulted in the Citadel revenging themselves upon us. I have a most personal understanding of the accidental side effects of your campaign."

I lean back smugly. "And I'm not convinced that Duke Alonzo would be alright with you claiming to speak for Euphorix. He does rather control the government."

"This is irrelevant." That's the first thing Supreme Commander Gaharrugh's said this whole meeting. I was beginning to think that he was either mute or so concerned that the Imperium would withdraw their support that he didn't dare speak up. "Once our enemies are dead you can argue over who speaks for whom." He jabs one of the control buttons on the table's hologram projector, calling up an image of Karna. Force concentrations, areas controlled and areas contested and remaining strongholds. "We haven't won control of Karna yet."

Of course, with Taghurrhu's following amongst younger Karnans his position isn't all that secure either. And depending on how big an impression Michael makes…

I point at the representation of the prison camps. "Why are we doing that? There are millions of Gordanians down there and we've chased off or destroyed all of their starships."

Gaharrugh nods. "What do you suggest?"

"Just disarm them and leave them to their own devices. Your people and mine can defend any Karnan settlements that need it. We can start processing them for resettlement or exile based on clan membership once the fighting is over."

Gaharrugh raises his upper left lip slightly, a mild baring of the teeth to indicate hostility to the idea. "'Exile'? You want to exile the murderers and slavers? My people have been brutalised by these monsters-."

Komand'r rolls her eyes. "Yours are hardly the only people to have suffered under the Gordanians. And while we will be punishing those in controlling positions in the Tearing Bite clan, we have no interest in slaying every member."

Koriand'r nods. "This is not merely about our side winning over the Citadel and its allies. We must make our victory about instituting a civilised state of relations between Vega's peoples. And in some cases that will mean staying our hand, no matter how enraged we are. I refuse to stoop to the Citadel's level."

Gaharrugh looks around, but it doesn't look like any of the others are prepared to vocalise any support they might be feeling. He glowers slightly, then nods. "Anyone not on our hit list can go for now. Next point. I'm getting reports of one of my people employing some sort of grey alien mercenaries-."

"Oh, those are mine. Michael's familiar with hush tube combat, I felt that paving our way with them while I attacked the Citadel made sense."

"'Michael'?"

I generate a construct image of him. "Michael Tawny. I thought a leader who physically resembled a Karnan would fit it better. He's the reason why their fleet was in such disarray when we arrived."

"Fine. I'll trust you to control him." I nod. "Next item. If we're not killing them all, what are we doing about reparations?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Authority

21st August
18:29 GMT

Ms Mallor looks down at me as I sit cross-legged on the roof of the plain structure built to contain the Orange Central Power Battery. She's one of the political prisoners we liberated from Starlag along with Vril Dox, her exotic abilities putting her on the Dominators' 'to be researched' list.

"I understand that I am not to be included in your tuition session."

"That is correct."

"Why? Do you think that I am incapable of focusing my wants? Or that I would be driven insane as that creature in your cells has been?"

Her desires are a rather harmless mix of loyalty-affirmation with regards to her civilisation and a drive for… Interestingly, not revenge against the Dominion but she definitely wants them pushed back. Talok VIII fell under the Dominion's expanded sphere of influence some time ago, but they only heard about her comparatively recently. She knows that she's the only reason the Dominion bothered threatening her world and that they'd leave it alone once she was in their custody. That's why she surrendered herself rather than try fighting it out or running. Admirable behaviour.

"No."

Unfortunately, it makes her unsuitable for an orange ring. At least at this stage.

"Then why? Dox said that he had given you final refusal on his proposed candidates?"

"He has. But my selection criteria are quite specific." I open my eyes and look up at her. She's wearing a figure hugging blue/black body stocking thing. I didn't realise that look was popular outside of Earth-native superpeople. "Would you like some tea?"

"Tea?"

"It's a drink from my homeworld, made by putting dried leaves-."

"I know what tea is, I just don't understand why you're offering it to me."

"I don't want you to think that I harbour some sort of personal dislike for you. I want this to be a discussion rather than a confrontation. So: I offer you tea."

"Very well…" She hesitates for a moment as I wave my right hand vaguely to my right and bring a teapot and two china cups in the traditional style: white with blue artwork. "Why do you consider me inadequate?"

"I don't. Sugar?"

A mild frown. "No."

"Milk?"

She pulls a face. "I'm an adult. I don't drink milk."

I won't ask about lemon. I create a construct strainer and place it over the first cup, then pick up the teapot and begin pouring.

"You understand that the Orange Lantern Corps we're building is primarily designed to fight the Reach?"

"Yes."

"Orange ring users are unavoidably driven to satisfy their desires. You might well intellectually know that, when evaluated dispassionately, the Reach are worse than the Dominion. But the Dominion matters to you in a personal way which the Reach doesn't." Cup filled adequately, I stop pouring and move the strainer to the second cup. "Whatever you have decided that you should accept, it is the Dominion whom you truly wish to fight. As such, your effectiveness as an Orange Lantern would be impaired in the fights we are actually going to engage in. And that's assuming that you didn't suffer from the mind-altering effects of the orange light, and simply decide to go after the Dominion on your own initiative."

"I'm not so easily distracted." I put the teapot down, disintegrate the tea leaves in the strainer and then dismiss the strainer, and pass her a cup.

"That doesn't help. Forcing yourself to concentrate on something is a green light thing. Do it too much while wearing an orange ring and your ring would turn itself off. Given your other abilities, you might survive losing your environmental shield while in space, but it would significantly reduce your effectiveness."

She inclines her head slightly as she raises the cup to her face and sniffs it. Finding the smell not too repulsive, she tentatively takes a sip just to humour me and then puts the cup straight down again. "I understand that, but I believe that after training with other Lanterns and Darkstars I would come to see them as much as my people as I do other members of my species. And if I were exposed to the Reach's wrongdoings, I would come to loathe them just as much as they do."

I nod. "Quite possibly. That's how I learned to focus the orange light to serve my team mates' needs." I pick up my cup and take a mouthful. I don't actually.. like tea, but as a non-narcotic social tool it is quite useful.

"Then why-?"

I hold up my right hand to stop her, then swallow. "Because I haven't ever taught a proper class before. With Princess Komand'r and Princess Koriand'r I could afford to give them personal attention at all times. Here, I'm going to have to create a training program that others can carry out without my immediate supervision. That significantly magnifies the risk. So I don't want to take anyone who doesn't have the ideal psychological characteristics. In other circumstances, when I have a better idea about what I'm doing, I might consider you. But not for the first batch."

She looks down as she considers my answer, then reluctantly nods. "What other circumstances?"

"When Hinon's had a chance to study what happens when orange power rings interact with someone who has a link to the Shadowlands."

A thin wisp of tenebrous mist manifests around her, parts of her body suddenly looking as if they were drawn in place using a thick black pen. "What do you know of the Shadowlands?"

"That it's the former resting place of the Great Darkness, and is now a source of considerable arcane might as well as being inhabited by some rather disturbing creatures. An acquaintance of mine by the name of Richard Swift draws his power from there as well, and a handful of other individuals have abilities that are sufficiently similar that they may well come from there as well."

"The Great Darkness. That is what your people call the Father of Shadows?"

"It's… Likely that we're talking about the same being."

"When I was younger, I felt its rising. Ever since then, I've been able to control shadows, move them and make them physical. I've never met anyone else who could say the same. Is that how it was on your world?"

"I don't.. know for certain. For most of them the time line is possible. Except the Shade and Simon Culp, who got theirs about a hundred and eight years ago. When the Great Darkness would still have been there." Huh. Hadn't considered that part before. "Which is a little disturbing, now that I think about it. Though it might explain why they're so much more powerful than all of the others."

"They..?"

"But anyway, I hope that you consider staying on anyway. You might get offered a power ring eventually, and even if you don't I'm sure that the Darkstars would love to have someone with your abilities."

"Will you take me with you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I've never met someone else with my abilities before. When you return to your homeworld, will you take me with you?"

Um. No reason not to, I suppose. "Alright, yes. Though I'll warn you now that I don't know how long it will be until that happens." She nods. "Is there anything else you want to ask?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st August
19:13 GMT

I smile at the purple-robed figure making his way slowly towards me down the corridor. "Are you all going to do this?"

The green tendrils poking out of his hood retract as he gets within convenient talking distance, his movement forward changing from a steady flow to the jerkier movements of a legged humanoid. He raises his arms, then uses the now brown-orange skinned hands poking out to push back his hood and reveal his face. I'm going to assume that this is the face he uses when dealing with humanoids who set store by such things as facial expression.

"Are all of us going to do what?"

"Ask me why I didn't select you for an orange ring?"

"I had not intended to. Though if you would like to furnish me with a reason..?"

"Dox trusts you. He needs you at your most mentally stable, because you're the only one of us who knows him well enough to know if he's becoming unstable. Your ability to perform that role would be significantly impeded if you put on a ring yourself."

"A perfectly sensible reason. I'm.. not familiar with your species."

"And I'm happy to take your word on that."

"I said that in an attempt to encourage you to tell me about them, but now I'm curious. Why did you respond like that?"

"I don't hold the crimes of a group against their entire species. My homeworld has been visited by Durlans in the past and as far as we've been able to tell a few are still there. The.. Human government that's mostly been dealing with their attacks showed me a few pictures of what happens when a Durlan infiltrator sets off a metamorphic bomb in a small town on market day… It gave a.. particularly bad impression."

"Metamorphic weapons? Are you certain?"

I generate a construct image of the results, melting corpses dissolving into soup while others show clear signs of partial transmutation. "The only survivor has skin made of iron plates, so, yes."

"That.. surprises me. Durla is not a technologically sophisticated world. I was abducted by Coluan robots and I had assumed that I was the only member of my species currently alive to have ventured off-world."

"They seemed pretty technologically sophisticated." I generate a construct of the Dragonwing. "This ship was captured from them and partially reverse engineered. Are you sure-?"

"Blood of the Ancients." His voice sounds astonished, but his face doesn't change expression. Curious. "No, I… Long ago, our history tells us that we had such technology. Then there was an event we know as the Six Minute War."

"An apocalyptic war."

He nods. "Some of our eldest still retain the memories of the event, passed from one Ancient to the next. I never had access to them, but supposedly our forebears fought one another with total ferocity. They started with nanotech infections such as those you describe and eventually escalated into an all-out fission exchange. Lingering radioactive material and metamorphic weaponry destroyed the civilisation we had at that time, and has prevented us rebuilding ever since. Certainly, none of us possess the technological capacity today."

"Someone does."

"I'm afraid that if you wanted to learn more you would have to travel to Durla and consult the Ancients. Or track down one of the Durlans you say is on your world."

"If tracking them down were simple, they'd have been killed already." Still. Worth mentioning to the Chinese that I can put them in contact with the government of Durla. "Are there other examples of your people's advanced technology around the place?"

"Not to my knowledge. I had hoped to access the Controllers' archives while I am here, but it seems that they have had little interest in the region of space in which my world resides. I would be very interested in any such technology you felt able to share."

"I.. doubt very much that the Chinese would be willing to-"

"Hey, you!"

"-share what they've learned, but I doubt that it will hurt-"

"I'm talking to you!"

"-to ask." I turn around. "Mister Bek, how may I be of service?"

Though -aside from hair only a Saiyan could love- he could easily pass as Human, Mister Bek actually originates from Cairn. He didn't express any interest in going back so I'm assuming that he's here about the induction session that he hasn't been invited to. A little way behind him a tanned… I want to say 'woman', but her medical scans say that her reproductive equipment is variable in configuration and she only has mammaries at the moment due to something the Dominators were feeding her while trying to work out how she works.

"You can give me an orange power ring, is what you can do."

"Mister Bek, what would you do with an orange power ring?"

"Turn Cairn into a decent place to live!"

"Mister Bek, I'm afraid that while I realise that the Dominion deserves a bloody nose-."

"I'm not talking about them. I understand that you can't fight the Reach and the Dominion at the same time-."

"Actually, we don't even have the equipment to fight the Reach on its own at the moment. Dox is working on scaling up-."

He shakes his head and waves his hands. "Fine, I'm not interested in that. One man with a power ring could easily decapitate the syndicates of Cairn and start turning it back into a civilised world. It wouldn't be easy and the Dominion aren't going anywhere, but life could be made a lot better by a Lantern."

Sounds plausible. "Mister Bek, we're focusing our resources on getting Lanterns available to fight the Reach at the moment. If you'd like to write up a detailed proposal for the post-coup political and economic models you'd use to transform Cairn's society, I promise you that I'll give the plan due consideration. I hope to be able to widen the variety of people who we can give rings to but at the moment it's just not practical."

"Alright." He nods, appearing to calm down a bit. "That's reasonable. But why didn't you say that when I got here?"

"Because Koriand'r brought you here at Dox's request and I.. rather assumed that he was dealing with you."

He smiles faintly. "What, you gave Dox access to all the information he could want and you thought he'd do something other than go through it as fast as he could?"

Ah. "Then, I apologise for my oversight. Do you need anything from me now?"

"No, the Darkstars are giving us access to their offices." He nods again and turns away. "I'll get started on that proposal."

"I'll look forward to receiving it." He heads back down the corridor, his companion remaining where she is. "Do you want a ring as well?"

"No. I'm already booked in for my Darkstar induction."

"Did Dox-?"

"I got tired of waiting for him. I was coming to check that he was still alive in there."

I look at the Durlan, who shrugs.

"Let's find out together."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st August
19:19 GMT

"Dox..?" I step over the threshold of his quarters somewhat cautiously, the Durlan just behind me. "Are you decent?"

Dox finally settled on somewhere to live while I was away meeting up with Lantern Mother of Mercy. Space.. isn't exactly at a premium on Maltus. The planet's population is around ten billion, but Clickers like living in close proximity to one another. And preferably underground. Plus, Maltus is pretty close to post-scarcity. As a result, there isn't the accommodation squeeze that there is in the centre of large cities on Earth. Quarters can be more or less whatever size you want, if you can find someone to build it. And if you've got a Controller or a power ring on hand, that requirement can be bypassed fairly easily.

I was slightly curious as to what Dox's quarters would be like. My first guess was something like one of those Japanese pod-things. With some sort of teleportation system for food and waste materials. Coluans usually eat relatively normal food rather than the nutribars usually associated with logic-focused high-IQ species, but Dox himself wasn't allowed anything remotely resembling normal amenities growing up and I thought that he might value the pure efficiency of the system.

Turns out that I was completely wrong. He's gone for an open plan living/dining area that's almost offensively normal. Rugs and synthetic wood cover the floor, there's a holopit slightly off from the centre of the room and portraits of some people who are probably quite famous on Colu but who I've never heard of at intervals on the far wall. Bookshelves line the walls near the comfy chairs on one side… Books? Wasn't expecting that at all. There's even… Is that music?

"The chance of him being indecent is exceedingly small."

I take a few small steps inside, still taking the place in. "That was really more intended to be an audible indicator that we were here rather than a suggestion that he put clothes on." I stop walking and frown at him. "Does this place seem like him to you?"

"A shell of normalcy which he uses to conceal himself but does not himself inhabit? Yes."

Ah. Yes, that sounds more like what I'd expected.

"Sorry, with one thing and another I never thought to ask you your name."

"I am not wholly averse to being called 'Brand'."

"W-? Oh, do Durlans use non-sonic personal identifiers or something?"

"There is a certain scent component. But the humanoid vocal system I have become accustomed to using makes it difficult to pronounce the sonic components. And Brand is close enough."

"As you wish."

So where's Dox hiding? He could have teleported out, but it's not like we're keeping him prisoner here. If he wanted to leave he could just ask for a lift, I'm reasonably sure that one of the Controllers would have reacted if he built an interstellar teleporter. I could scan for him, but that does seem to be somewhat rude. The kitchen comes off the dining area and I can see that he isn't there. Bathroom's through there, which just leaves…

"Dox, I wasn't joking! If you're.. occupied, just say so!"

Mister Brand walks past me and reaches out to take hold of the bedroom door. There's a slight fuzz in the air as a security field detects him and decides not to incinerate him just yet. He ignores it and reaches for the door handle, taking a firm grip on the lever and waiting for a moment as the mechanisms contained therein perform another round of checks. No.. similar device exists on any other opening in the apartment. Rather lends credence to Mister Brand's assumption.

"Vril, are you-? Ah."

Mister Brand steps aside to allow me to enter. Ah, yes this is more like it. Vril himself is strapped to some sort of chair/bed thing, apparently unaware of the world around him. The device strapped to his forehead-. Ah, a Coluan electro-telepathy transmitter. He's having the computer feed data directly into his brain. Reasonably predictaoh come on!

His power rings, both the second hand Larfleeze model I gave him after we first met and Hinon's first new generation model are sitting entirely unused on a workbench surrounded by analytical devices. Quite a bit more complex than what the Controllers use; they can do most of that sort of thing with their own innate abilities. His personal lantern is a little further along, also unused. Okay, I can understand him being reluctant to use them but I'd have thought that he'd have-.

"What is it?"

Dox's eyes sort of flicker as the lights on his headband twinkle and fade.

"Nearly time for our first training session."

He frowns slightly, then the bonds around his wrists unfasten and he reaches up with his right hand to remove the headband. "And you felt the need to inform me in person because..?"

"The psychological wellbeing of members of the Corps is my responsibility."

"I don't require your assist-" Mister Brand moves around behind him to check his equipment. "-ance. I have a great deal of data to absorb and a finite amount of time in which to do it. If there is nothing else..?"

"Clarissi Dox. I felt that you might like to participate in the first training session. While I realise that you can absorb new information far faster than the rest of us can, the psychological effects of orange light use are something-."

"Something that might lead to me baking a giant cake?"

I tilt my head back slightly to look at the ceiling. One time! "It might help to learn how your own thoughts are likely to be altered in a safe location before using it in the field."

He swivels where he's sitting, then reaches down to pull his boots on. Not looking at me. "Are you telling me that I am obliged to?"

"No. Though I would advise you to avoid using them at all unless you get some training from me. If you don't want to take part in the same session as the rest of the new intake -and for team building purposes I really think that you should- then we can do it in private later. Or…" I spread out my hands. "Not at all. You're still the best person for the job, even without a ring of your own."

Both boots on, he looks up at me. "Your own reports indicated dozens of times when your judgement was compromised by your use of-."

Mister Brand looks up from the device. "And you think that using this device with a data input rate eight times higher than normal will not produce similar results?"

Dox's face twitches. "I've used higher rates before, and for longer. The Coluan 'average' is well below what is safe for me."

Time to use the orange light…

"Remind me: are you a perfect clone of Vril Dox the First, or did he make any changes?"

He glowers at me. "If you're asking that question then you clearly know the answer. I am genetically identical. However, he altered the conditions in which I gestated to produce… Suboptimal results. I was less intelligent than he was while he was still an organic Coluan. Still far more intelligent than everyone else, and more than up to the task I have here."

"Where I'm from… There's a certain… Physicality, expected of, uh… 'Freelance law enforcement officials'. Pretty much the first thing I did with my ring -and entirely without specific intent- was turn myself from a slightly pudgy office worker into an Adonis. I think… It's hard for me to tell, but I think I've become more mentally acute as well. Certainly, my memory is eidetic now."

Dox gets it. From his expression I think that he got it as soon as I started speaking, though he generously gave me the courtesy of allowing me to finish.

"I could alter myself."

"It's more that the ring would unavoidably alter you to better reflect your idealised self-concept." I smile, raise my eyebrows slightly and then look away. "I'm assuming that you know quite a lot about Coluan physiology..?"

His body stills and his eyes unfocus slightly, pupils microsaccading as he considers the matter, then gets up and walks towards the rings-.

"Ah ah." I open both hands and call his rings to me. That earns me a scowl. "There's a tradition to it. Everyone I've given rings to gets the same treatment. It might not seem important to you-."

"Just get on with it."

"Very well." I hold out my hands palms up with a ring on each. "Vril Dox of Colu, you want to establish a just order in an unjust and disorderly universe. And I want you for the Orange Lantern Corps. Take my rings."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st August
20:43 GMT

I raise my right arm and wave as my new recruits fly towards me. Koranys is a newly terraformed world on the far side of Maltus from the Reach border. Settlement has already started on the continents to the north and west of us, and the lingering liveliness of the atmosphere results in frequent storms with their associated torrential downpours.

Lantern K-K'p dives, using a gravity impeller construct to accelerate towards the ground and then to arrest his motion just before impact. He's a Clicker and since his sex is 'lesser C' I suppose that 'he' isn't strictly accurate. Ah, we're both using translators. I can't help that my language doesn't have a word for what he is. There are a series of visible scars along the left side of his carapace from where in his previous occupation as a Darkstar he took several hits from Reach soldier carried plasma weapons and had to be stuck back together. When he first put on his ring it converted the cybernetics beneath back into flesh but left the visible damage. I guess he wanted to keep the memento. He also usually wears his Darkstar exomantle, but for this exercise I asked him and the others to leave their armour and backup weapons in subspace.

"How did you get so far ahead of us?"

I flick my left hand out to the side, connecting in the whole class. Including the ones who are only just entering the upper atmosphere. "As with anything else you use it for, the speed of your ring-based faster than light travel is dependent on your ability to focus your desires. I'm teaching you because I'm very good at focusing my desires." Three concentric spinning circles appear floating over my left hand.

"I thought that we did not need to focus on precisely what we were doing. Was I mistaken?"

"No, but you do need to focus on the outcome. Either the fact that you want to get somewhere or what you want to achieve once you're there."

Another Clicker flies down toward our position. Lantern R-K'rr is a neutral Clicker and a former Darkstar uplift coordinator. His job was to help worlds that decided to resist the Reach to improve their defensive abilities as fast as possible. While he tested well for ring-compatibility, I'm a little concerned that his particular skill set isn't exactly what we want at this stage. Dox wants him to visit worlds on the periphery and help with their shipyard upgrades, but I'm concerned about how much harder that will make keeping track of his mental condition.

"Teacher, why are we here? Why do we not practice on the new world you captured from Mongul?"

"We're here because at the moment the entire surface of Ater Clementia is covered with Lantern Mother of Mercy's body. And while she doesn't exactly feel pain, I don't think we should be shooting holes in each other's bodies during our induction session." Sadly, that made it… Not impossible but certainly impractical for her to participate in the training session. Currently one of Hinon's deputies is going over her in an attempt to learn how she works. It turns out that the Controllers haven't encountered anything quite like her before. Though I do mean 'quite', they've encountered any number of things which were sort of like her. "And her atmosphere isn't something most of us could breathe."

Lantern K-K'p and Lantern R-K'rr glance at one another. I've noticed that Clickers have some sort of game they play with the direction their rearmost eyes look at, and the two of them have a quick round. R-K'rr loses and then lands before coiling slightly into the Clicker 'attention' pose. "Would our environmental shields not prevent that being a problem?"

"Lantern R-K'rr, you already have more space combat experience than me. What I'm going to teach you is how to maintain your focus, how to maintain your ability to think clearly while using the orange light and how to avoid becoming distracted by other emotions. Because something I've observed from other Lanterns is that if you focus on the wrong emotion, your environmental shield goes as well."

"I understand, te-."

BANG!

There's a huge explosion a short distance behind me, accompanied by a blinding burst of light. I've already brought up construct armour and a railgun, and I note that K-K'p has generated a basic construct barrier. Well done that Clicker.

The glow stabilises a moment later into a glowing portal, somewhat like the boom tubes which New Gods use. The difference is that the surrounding circle of light looks more.. ferocious, crackling and flaring and wobblingoh dear.

My armour appears from subspace, Sword of the Fallen transferring from my field uniform to my greaves. "That's a boom tube, armour now."

K-K'p's exomantle appears immediately, while R-K'rr takes a moment to achieve the necessary level of focus. Both point their masers at the portal rather than generating construct weapons, but I'll excuse that for now. They've only really had a few practice sessions with their rings before this, and they're trained to use exomantles.

"If you can spare the concentration, have your rings feed you data on New Gods, Apokolips and New Genesis." Though I've got no idea why either might come here. "If they're from Apokolips, shoot first. If they're from New Genesis, shoot second."

"Acknowledged." / "I obey!"

And then Dox steps through and I feel like an idiot. Strands from his ring feed back into the tube, visibly forcing it to stay open and more or less stable. He's wearing a variation on what I vaguely remember his uniform from L.E.G.I.O.N. to look like, with an orange sigil replacing the clenched-fist-with-lightning-shining-through emblem of that butterflied agency. He looks at us for a moment and then turns back to his portal, exhaling in frustration. "It appears that I need more experimental data before I perfect ring-based gravitonic hyperinflation."

He retracts his filaments and the boom tube undergoes a semi-controlled collapse, energy washing over us. Dox's personal force field flares slightly, and he idly looks at a construct monitor to find out exactly what's hitting him. My construct armour is mildly buffeted, while K-K'p's barrier is cracking and failing. Always use a learning opportunity.

I turn back to face him. "Do you want to be torn apart? If not, then I suggest that you focus on your need to remain whole."

"I obey."

A curved construct barrier appears behind the flat and failing barrier, which collapses entirely a moment later. The new one is brighter, energy being deflected around it. The local grass-substitute isn't going to be doing well out of this, but the isolated nature of our sparring ground is why we're doing this out here.

A moment passes and the boom tube finishes its semi-controlled collapse. Dox presses a few buttons on his arm-mounted construct control panel before returning his attention to the three of us. "Are we ready to begin?"

"Still waiting for the last four, sir." I look up. "Though-."

Lanterns Strata and Tarant slam into the ground. Tarant has kept his Darkstar flight suit, now with an orange sigil in the middle of the Darkstar starburst. Strata on the other hand is dressed a little more like Dox: loose black trousers and a black vest with the orange sigil on her chest.

To be honest, Tarant is far closer to what we're looking for at this stage than the others are. He wants the Reach destroyed and whatever's left of his civilisation restored to its pre-Reach state. But he's disciplined about it, never losing himself to the red light in any of the engagements he's fought in. Strata was the only prisoner to make the cut, and her motivations remind me of what Maddox said about Gregory Peck: she doesn't have any personal stake in the fight with the Reach but she's here because she recognises it as a good thing. Good power output, minimal chance of being distracted.

A moment later Koriand'r and Komand'r transition down to the planet's surface. They're only last because I asked them to keep an eye on the others as they travelled here. Not that they have much more experience, but what little they have means that they get the teaching assistant jobs for the moment.

"Thank you all for coming. Now let's get started."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st August
20:58 GMT

"…simplest level of attack construct is an energy pulse." I generate a target ten metres away. "Lantern Tarant, take a shot."

Tarant looks at the target for a moment, then raises his right fist. His ring is on the middle of his three fingers, and the general pose he's using is the one he used when firing his exomantle's masers. He focuses for a moment, then a blast of orange light flashes out. The bolt strikes the target dead centre, dissipating to no appreciable effect. He makes a quiet snort to himself before looking at me to see if I want him to try again.

"A shot from a Darkstar maser will -power source allowing- always strike with the same power. Power rings do not work like that. They are empathic weapons." I dismiss the target and replace it with a Reach soldier. "Try again."

He clenches his fist, the orange bolt he fires being noticeably brighter than his first effort. The result is some minor cracking on the construct soldier's surface.

"Lantern Tarant has fought the Reach for a considerable period of time. Certainly, he defaults to wanting their soldiers destroyed more easily than he does a series of concentric circles." I dismiss the soldier and generate a Beetle construct. "When I intervened on Urrigen, the Darkstar coterie had been in continuous combat for three days. It is perfectly natural to feel fear in combat, and the Darkstars there were controlling theirs as expected from professional soldiers. Except Lantern Tarant, who was barely feeling any at all. Unusual, considering how lethal Beetles are to Darkstars."

"I've killed Scarab Warriors before."

"Glad to hear it. Kill this one."

"Meat!"

The construct Beetle opens its wings and shapeshifts its arms, a shield forming on its left and a blade on its right. It zips through the air directly towards Tarant at full speed-.

And is caught in the twin beams blasting from Tarant's forearms. The construct Beetle cracks and crumbles to orange fragments before fading completely.

"Tarant could do that because he really really wants to destroy Reach Beetles, and because animating it made it seem more like the things that he actually wants to destroy." Tarant himself is still staring in the direction the construct was coming from, his arms still raised. "But it turns out that he wants to destroy them a little too much. Lantern Tarant."

He grunts. Eyes locked, environmental shield flaring, muscles tensed and… Yes, orange sigils glowing in his eyes.

"Lantern Tarant, what planet are you on?"

"I'm-." I watch as he shudders, his overwhelming drive to fight the Reach being undermined by his rational appreciation that this is a training exercise. "I'm.. fighting…" His environmental shield fades to its original level. "What was that?"

"That was your brain on the orange light. You gave that shot your all?"

"Y-yeah."

His environmental shield cuts off for a moment as his fear of losing control like that causes yellow light interference.

"Lantern Tarant, remove your ring and take a moment to collect yourself."

"Yes sir." His hands shake slightly as he gingerly grasps his ring with the fingers of his left hand and pulls it free.

"And that's the other reason we're doing this somewhere with a breathable atmosphere." Tarant stares at his ring for a moment and then stows it in one of the pouches on his uniform. "Everyone notice what Lantern Tarant's environmental shield was doing there?" Dox doesn't move, but the others all give me affirmative gestures appropriate to their physiology. "Years of warfare have left Lantern Tarant with a very strong desire to destroy the Reach. On that last shot he channelled all of it and was overwhelmed." Tarant trudges back to the group and sits down hard, not quite looking at anyone as he tries to work out what the heck just happened. "He became convinced that the Reach were about to attack. I'm not sure that he was even aware that the rest of us were still here." I raise my eyebrows. "Were you?"

"I…" He blinks, eyes still not focusing on us. "I wasn't… Thinking about you."

"This world is highly defended and the rest of us are more than capable of taking down anything short of a full Beetle strike force. And yet, his need to strike them down overwhelmed his rationality. One of the things you're all going to learn is what your own warning signs are."

Dox give me a shallow nod. "What are yours?"

I smile, flaring out my environmental shield as I rise into the air to better emphasise my point. "I don't have any. I have attained enlightenment. I have perfect unity with and awareness of my desires. Though I am.. no longer precisely the man I was before. This doesn't mean that I can do anything; I still have to actually want to do a thing and the mortal frame is only capable of wanting a thing so much. However, it has left me exceedingly powerful and mentally stable."

K-K'p wiggles his mandibles. "How do we attain such power?"

"No idea. I did it through months of meditation and self reflection, constant ring-usage while maintaining my humanitas, followed by merging with the Ophidian and managing to separate again. If you want to try working towards that, be my guest. I'd suggest leaving the advanced stuff until you've gotten the hang of the basics, but since the first steps are the basic training I'm giving you anyway…."

"Now, did you notice how Lantern Tarant's environmental shield shut down for a moment?" Another round of affirmatives. "His fear of what happened to him overwhelmed his personal desires. As such, his ring temporarily shut down because it could no longer connect him to the orange light. Needless to say, that happening in combat is very bad. And why you'll all be wearing spacesuits or armour when we start practising space combat."

I take a hologram projector out of subspace and activate it, displaying the sigils of each of the Lantern Corps… Or at least each of the colours.

"Those of you who have seen Green Lanterns will be familiar with the sigil in the centre. Green is the colour of willpower. Those who use it focus their minds on precisely what they want the ring to do in order to generate constructs. Doing the same yourselves will turn your rings off. To the left we have the sigil of the yellow light of fear. The only extant user of this colour is the Green Lanterns' former First Lantern, Thaal Sinestro. If you act with the intent of causing fear or are overwhelmed by fear yourself, your ring will turn off. On the right, the sigil of the blue light of hope. No one uses it. Feel too much hope and your ring will turn off. At mid-left, we have our own sigil. The orange light of avarice is what you will be trained to use. Focusing on it will allow you to fight. Focusing on it too much will drive you mad. Lantern Tarant got a mild flash of what it can be like. If you want to see a more extreme example, visit the Blue Cells and try talking to Larfleeze."

"Far left, we have the red light of rage and hate. You've all got cause to be angry, and several of you hate the Reach. That's fine in itself, but if you focus on those emotions during combat?"

I click my right thumb and forefinger and point at Strata.

"What happens?"

"Our rings will turn off."

"Quite." I nod. "Mid-right, we have the indigo sigil of compassion. Feel too compassionate? Your ring will turn off. Last but not least, the violet sigil of love. Used by the Zamarons. If you focus on love your ring will turn off."

I smile. "And the kicker is, remaining able to feel each of them is a vital component to you remaining sane. I have no interest in turning you into semi-guided weapons. I am creating a Lantern Corps of Lanterns. I will teach you to focus without becoming too narrowly focused, to feel without being overwhelmed by feeling and to fight and to not fight. And if it all goes wrong and we're forced to put you in the Blue Cells with Larfleeze I will do my best to restore you to sanity."

I look around the group. "Any questions before we move on?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st August
22:27 GMT

"…energy pulses are a problem, power rings can create almost any other kind of weapon and those will have their standard effects. For example-" I generate a railgun, somewhat shorter than what I'm used to using in actual combat. "-this is a railgun. My people worked out how to make them a little after we first achieved powered flight, and they're excellent at delivering solid ordnance to a humanoid target at medium range or a large or stationary target at long range. They're useful for Lanterns because they're propelled by a burst of electricity; even if you're only building up a charge slowly, a construct capacitor will wait until you've got enough before firing."

R-K'rr rotates his head slightly to the side. "I am unconvinced that a physical projectile propelled in this way would have significant impact on warships in combat."

"Fair enough. Would you mind creating a construct barrier for me?"

"That is not a fair test. I do not believe that I currently have the ability to create cruiser-grade barriers."

"I understand. Please do it anyway."

R-K'rr concentrates for a moment and a barrier forms just in front of him.

I nod. "Thank you. This may hurt a little." I take a crumbler round out of subspace and hold it out so that everyone can get a look. Dox doesn't merely look, he scans it at once. "My homeworld is much less technologically advanced than each of yours. But. A tiny proportion of my species are scientific and technological savants, able to invent things that we shouldn't have the ability to create yet. This, is a crumbler round."

I step forward and tap the end against R-K'rr's barrier. The crumble effect triggers immediately, a fracturing and fraying hole appearing in the construct as the remains of the activated round fall through my fingers.

"Ow."

"I use them for destroying energy shields, and I usually propel them with a railgun. I have another type for penetrating magic shields and hurting arcane lifeforms. And a third type for killing Demons." I dismiss the railgun construct. "Though the damage that can be inflicted by a sufficiently powerful kinetic strike should not be underestimated."

Next, I generate a cold gun construct. "This is a cold gun. Please have your rings grant you thermal vision."

There are flickers of orange from the eyes of all of the assembled Lanterns, even the princesses to whom I've shown this before. I wait until they're all finished, then point the gun at the ground to my right and fire, panning it around as hoarfrost builds up on the ground.

"As you can see -and would probably be able to feel if your environmental shields weren't protecting you- the ground where it struck was just reduced to near absolute zero. The particular mechanism which this weapon uses also tends to bypass most forms of energy shield. Both of these weapons can be created with relatively little avarice. With a little more focus-" I create a graser construct. "-coherent radiation weapons are possible. As are scarier things-" I generate a singularity beam projector and Dox blanches. "-like this. It should go without saying that if you generate an indiscriminate weapon you should be certain what you're pointing it at."

"On a more philosophical level, learning to unify your desire to achieve a particular objective with your desire to perform a particular activity leading to that objective is a quite useful tool for increasing the power you can bring to bear in conflicts in which you don't have a particular personal investment. Unavoidably, most of the people you will be fighting will be Reach-altered slaves for whom you will feel pity. Others will be Reach soldiers for whom you bear no personal malice. Remember that our ultimate objective in this war is not the death of any one person but the cessation of the Reach as a political entity. Focus on your desire for that, and be mindful of how every action you perform contributes to that."

"Now, I'm sure that you're tired of listening to me so I've set up a practical exercise. In the rings around the third planet of this system-" It used to be the first, until the Controllers started ripping useful elements out of it to make this one. "-I've placed a number of transponders. And automated defence drones. Lanterns K-K'p, Strata, R-K'rr and Tarant. Your job is to get three transponders each and then come back here. Komand'r, Koriand'r, you're on monitor duty again. I don't want any of my first proper class dying."

Strata… I think that's a frown. "How powerful are these automated defences?"

"Low power. They can hurt you through your environmental shield and they can batter down your construct shields. But they won't do either particularly quickly and they should cut out if it looks like you're in serious distress. I'm not trying to get you hurt. This test is adjusted to skills you should already have. Future practicals will be harder. Dismissed."

Tarant smiles. "Is there a prize for the winner?"

"I will personally pat them upon the head. It's a gesture of great approval in my culture."

"Heh. Right."

Some of R-K'rr's eyes turn towards Dox. "Will Lantern Dox not be participating?"

My eyes move to Dox. "He can if he wants."

"I do not understand. Are you not in command?"

"No, he.-" / "In point of fact…"

Dox and I look at each other, and I bow my head and open my right hand in his direction.

"The command structure we have agreed upon is that I will have strategic command while he will have tactical command. He will teach you how to use your ring and lead you into combat. I will ensure that our forces are numerous enough to win and are deployed to places most likely to harm the Reach to the greatest extent possible. It is unlikely that I will often take to the field with my ring, but I wish to ensure that I understand the application of a device I may well depend upon. My rank is Clarissi. His is Illustres, and he is my immediate subordinate."

I nod. "As the Corps expands and we.. learn where one another's particular skills lie, our roles may evolve somewhat. But the important point is that while it might aid his understanding of how to use a ring to go with you, I can't actually order him to do so." I frown. "Also, it appears that your classmates are leaving you behind."

R-K'rr's eyes swivel to the place that they were standing a moment before. Komand'r is floating just above where she had been standing, eyebrows slightly raised and clearly waiting for him. The rest are… Ring? Ah yes, halfway to the ring already.

There's a flash of orange light as R-K'rr follows them, Komand'r just behind him.

I watch them leave for a moment, then turn back to Dox. "I thought that went alright."

"Most of what you told them was already stated in your written reports."

"Not everyone reads those quite as thoroughly as you do."

For a moment he seems genuinely puzzled. "That's foolish. You warned them what might happen before you handed them their rings."

"If everyone made sensible decisions the whole time, our job would be much easier."

"I disagree. With regard to their stated objectives, the Reach are exceedingly sensible. I hope that they become less sensible when we start fighting them in earnest."

"You know… It might help if you did participate in-."

"Coluans don't get overwhelmed by our desires. Most of your philosophical practices would be pointless for me."

"Oh. Then -if you don't mind me asking- why are you here?"

"There may be tactical uses of power rings that I have overlooked. And since Sinestro was unwilling to tutor me-."

"What?"

"He didn't believe that it was a worthwhile use of-."

"No, no, I mean: you spoke to Sinestro?"

"His ring uses the same communication system as ours. He was surprised to hear from me, but he was reasonably civil about it. Why does this concern you?"

"Because-." My ring flashes with an incoming message. "Who is it?"

"Lantern Gardner."

Oh.

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st August
22:32 GMT

Right. I look away from my ring and toward Dox. "Would you mind if I answered this? I doubt that the Guardians would lift their communications ban if it wasn't important."

"You detailed your personal relationship with Lantern Gardner at length in your reports, along with your recommendation that we do everything reasonable to maintain a cordial relationship with the Green Lantern Corps. Answer him."

Okay. First time I've spoken to someone from Earth -aside from Adam Blake- in over a month… "Answer."

An image of Guy's… Chest and part of his leg appear over my ring. "…probably not even gunna-."

"Guy?"

The image from my ring blurs for a moment as Guy moves it in front of his face. "Paul! How's it goin'?"

"Pretty well, all things considered. You?"

"Couldn't be better. Hey, ah, Green Man told me about what you did in Vega."

Ahhh. "Which.. bit in particular?"

"Where you took down the Citadel, freed a bunch a' slaves and negotiated a peace treaty between alla the pirate groups. And Medphyll told me about that Dominator prison you broke open. Good stuff."

"Oh. Yes. Um, the Citadel was really a team thing, but… Yes, I was involved in all of that."

"What, you got a new team now?"

"… Yes. Guy, as much as I'd love a chat I'm.. sort of in the middle of a lesson-."

"What, you got someone new t'teach yah stuff?"

"No, I'm teaching a class of Orange Lanterns. It's.. not really something I can offload… Since I'm the only one who's really got any experience…"

"Oh. Yeah. Ah, listen, I kinda gotta talk to yah in person. Think we can meet up?"

"Sure. I'm a few systems away from Maltus right now. I'm still warded, but the other Lanterns aren't. You should be able to find us easily enough."

"What, you think I'm faster than you?"

"I assumed that the Green Lantern Corps kept you around for some reason. Why, where are you?"

"I'm in the Sector House in One Four One Six."

Never been, haven't planned to. Quick check where the class are… "Guy, I haven't got time to get to you, have a chat and then make it back here by the time I have to carry on teaching. On the other hand, you can fly here while I finish the class and we can talk then. That'll be quicker."

Guy looks away for a moment, his head sort of wiggling back and forth as he considers the matter. "There anyone there with you right now?"

"Yes. Vril Dox the Second."

Guy clenches his eyes slightly. "You know he's a clone of Vril Dox the First, right? The guy who took over his homeworld, turned everyone into bio-robots before deciding that they were crimping his style and flyin' off to steal cities?"

Dox's face is pretty impassive. My own is forming a rictus grin. "You know Kon-El is half a clone of Lex Luthor, right?"

"That ain't the same thing. He didn't bring him up, an' Wondy-."

"And you're half Roland Gardner. And he brought you up."

Guy's face hardens. "Low blow, Paul."

"You're insulting a colleague of mine who's standing right next to me. If he starts collecting cities I'll be sure to have a word with him about it."

"Alright, fine." His face becomes more serious. Professional. "Where exactly have you been recruitin'?"

"I've had an eye out for potential Orange Lanterns everywhere I go. I even offered Jack Chance a ring."

"You wh-?" His face grows larger as he pulls his ring closer and stabs his left forefinger towards my point of view. "Okay, new rule: no stealin' our guys."

"Why, are they indentured or something? I thought that a Green Lantern could give up their ring whenever they wanted?"

"No, I'm tellin' you not to do it because it's a dick move."

"Fine. I won't offer rings to any more currently serving Green Lanterns. Happy?"

"Not particularly. You been recruiting in One Four One Seven?"

Why would.. he have a problem with that? Not like the Green Lantern Corps are welcome on Korugar. "I've… Sort of. Why would that matter to you?"

"What, you didn't think having a Green Lantern and an Orange Lantern comin' from the same planet might be a problem?"

"Under the circumstances, no. Not really. Not unless Lantern Tui's banishment sentence has been rescinded. And I haven't-."

Guy frowns in bewilderment. "Katma doesn't like your guy anymore than I do, but what's that got to do with-?"

"'Guy'?"

"What?"

"No, not Guy. 'Guy'." He blinks, his head tilted slightly to the side. "You said 'my guy'. I'm trying to recruit a Korugarian woman, Doctor Soranik Natu. And I haven't recruited her yet. Given how.. the Korugarians feel about power rings I was trying to build up to it. What guy?"

"Prince Ragnar of Betrassus."

"Who?"

"He's flyin' around this Sector with an orange power ring. You sure there ain't somethin' you wanna tell me?"

"Guy, we've only just started making personal lanterns. We've only got four Controllers hooked up to our Central Power Battery. I'd like to move to a Sector Lantern system eventually, but that's not going to be for years yet."

"So who else is givin' out orange power rings?"

"Ah. The Qwardians, maybe? But.. it's more likely that he picked up one of the ones I called from Larfleeze's cave. I still don't know how many of those there were."

He frowns. "You haven't tracked them down yet?"

"It was… Fourth on my to-do list?"

Guy looks decidedly unimpressed. "Well when yer finished with yer class, get over here. You've got a mess t' clean up."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
02:51 GMT -6

Ping.

My eyes slowly come open, and it takes me a moment to remember where I am. Been a while since I've been that tired, at least without being blasted near to death. On my left Koriand'r grasps my arm a little tighter, moaning softly in her sleep. On my right, Komand'r's legs are entwined with mine and her head is lying on my chest. It's also a while since I've been able to engage in penetrative…

I frown. No, that was actually the first time, not counting that incident in Osaka when that silly woman hospitalised herself. Huh.

Ping.

Yes, yes, I haven't forgotten.

I try sitting up a little, and feel a tightening about my extremities from my bedfellows. Drat. Don't particularly want to wake them… No, that's probably unavoidable. Ring, transition quietly.

By your command.

An unavoidable flash of orange light and I appear across the room, completely naked. Ah, there's nothing quite as good at clearing up a soiled bedchamber before sleeping as a power ring. Wonderful device. I bend down to pick up a pair of Hulk-size jogging bottoms and carefully slip them on before picking up my recently self-repaired Mother Box and tiptoeing toward the door. It's night in this part of Tamaran, but I don't particularly want to flash a member of the night staff. Keeping my body between the door and the bed I extrude a thin orange filament and spread it throughout the door's locking mechanism before silently opening it and stepping through. Carefully close it behind me… Done.

With their ancestral… Does it count as ancestral yet? It's only two generations since Tamaran lost… But they'd been fighting on and off before that… Traditional enemies. With their traditional enemies 'verifiably put beyond use' as the Irish say, Tamaran had as large a street party as their economy could support. With my Orange Lanterns as guests of honour. Given that tithe requirements have been abolished it turns out that was actually a pretty good party.

Not that I think that they underestimate the amount of work they'll have to do in order to capitalise on the situation, but the mood is celebratory and… The Princesses were feeling frisky and didn't want to risk a 'woman of titanium, man of plywood' incident. Not that they had to work hard to convince me. I'm certainly not.. over Jade or anything like that, but I'm… At least willing to.. think about other people in an amorous fashion.

Still need to do something about the Psions before too long, and I'll have to start organising work crews for the shipyards and the G-Gnome settlements-.

My ring flashes.

That's something I'm going to have to get used to. Tamaranians tend to be direct, and with my Lanterns still being so new to the role I'm fielding a great many questions. I was assuming that we'd have to train as we go, but I'm going to have to try to find time to put some sort of structure in place… Get someone else to do the organisational work which I'm not temperamentally suited to.

"Answer."

Lantern Ernal's face appears above my ring. She's one of the ones I left hanging around the Imperium's fleet, partly to offer aid and partly to remind them that they don't have hegemony here. "Yes?"

"Grayven, Admiral Oswin wishes to speak with you."

And partly so that we can communicate. Tamaran doesn't have FTL communications other than power rings and my own stuff isn't compatible with the Imperium's technology. I could probably talk to them, but they couldn't get hold of me with it. Assuming that the Crown Imperium's fleet keeps Kranaltine time, it's early evening for them. If he wants to discuss anything particularly complex I'll just have to tell him I'll sort it out later.

"Put him through."

Lantern Ernal's face moves out of shot, being replaced with that of Admiral Oswin. "Prince Grayven, I have recently been informed of a development in our anti-piracy work-" Read 'near-genocidal purge'. "-which I feel may be of interest to you."

"I agreed to give you free rein. If you want Lantern support-."

"No, no. Nothing like that. Have you ever heard of a planet called 'Timaron'?"

Name sounds familiar from somewah. "Sector Two Eight One Three. Bombarded from orbit under the orders of General Zod of Krypton, shortly before his militarist rebellion got shut down hard by the Consular Guard."

"If you say so. I hadn't heard of it before today, but apparently that's where the late and largely unlamented 'Commodore' Amalak came from. Some of our intelligence people have been digging through the wreckage, and they found certain alien artefacts they couldn't identify."

"If they found anything Apokoliptian, I would strongly advise that you dispose of it without exposing your people more than you absolutely have to. My people usually booby trap anything of value, and some of the traps will be of considerable magnitude."

Oswin holds up some sort of sash, turning it so that the decoration on the front is clearly visible to me. "Do you recognise this symbol?"

Yes I do. How the heck did that get here? "Yes, and I'm interested."

"Though it pains me to admit it, a good deal of it is too advanced for us to do anything with. I thought that you and I might negotiate an exchange."

I nod. "It's of no interest to Tamaran. I can't in good conscience grant political concessions for what might be a barrel of trinkets. But if you want something from me personally…"

"Visit me on my command ship when you have a moment. I'll trust you to make a fair offer."

He nods, and the ring deactivates. He might be serious about that. The Imperials are the 'my word is my bond' sort of aristocrats, at least between nobles. Of course, I'm going to assume that they're keeping at least one of everything I identify for them-.

"Have you grown tired of us already?" I turn, seeing.. Komand'r walk languidly out of the bedroom completely naked. "Or were you perhaps having trouble sleeping?"

"I think it would take me a very long time to grow tired of you." She walks closer, slowly, deliberately… Mm. "I had Mother Box-" I raise my right hand slightly, showing her to Komand'r. "-wake me because it's mid-evening in my home on Earth now. And I like to read to my daughter before she goes to sleep."

Komand'r's eyes narrow very slightly. Curious rather than irritated. "You have a daughter?"

"Yes. She's not really old enough to participate in a war yet, but her telepathic abilities are really quite impressive. She starts school for the first time in two weeks. Ideally, I'd be spending more time at home to prepare her, but-" I look around. "-I couldn't put this off."

"And her mother?"

"Oh, her natural parents died before I met her. I adopted her… Nearly five months ago now."

"And do you have a wife?"

I smile and frown at the same time, then point my left thumb at our bedroom door. "I probably wouldn't have done that if I had a wife. I'd have invited her, at least."

"Then I would like to marry you."

Huh? I shake my head. "I'm.. sorry..?"

She walks past me, heading for the balcony at the end of the corridor. I amble along behind her. Reaching the balcony, she leans against the waist-high railings and unselfconsciously flashes the sleeping city below. "Tamaranian monarchs designate their heirs. Since I was… Damaged, I never thought that I could become queen. I assumed that in the fullness of time the throne would go to Koriand'r or Ryand'r." She turns her head to look over her left shoulder at me. "But now I am healthy. More than that, I have the power of X'Hal herself." She turns around, raising her hands and allowing burning purple energy to glow around them for a moment before dropping them again. "Given your mockery of the Omega Men, I no longer believe that my brother is a rival. I want to be crown princess, and I believe that marrying you maximises my chances. You are popular, you have demonstrated your abilities as a warrior and leader and you have enabled us to have a stronger future."

Iiiii… Ah… "I… Recently ended a long term relationship. I'm.. not.. sure.. that starting another now is really-."

"It is a political match. I'm not asking you to love me."

"And it feels wrong that you're not. Wouldn't that be better?"

She frowns. "I suppose." She shrugs. "But I doubt that I'd find a lover as politically useful as you."

"I didn't make myself a New God to accept anything less than the best. I have no interest in a political relationship without love. That said…" I look her over. Well… I could do a lot worse. "I'm not.. promising anything. But.. if you.. want to get to know me on a more personal level... I'm open to the idea."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
09:37 GMT

Not being an idiot, I drop out of warp a good long distance before I reach the Green Lanterns' Sector House. Phasing and invisibility engaged, I scan the system.

Warning: Will detected.

Green lights flash across the space between me and the Sector House, probing the region of space near my emergence point. Momentum being what it is I'm not still there, but it's nice to know that the Greenies are reasonably on the ball. Attempts to scan the Sector House -which looks hauntingly like a slightly scaled down green-decorated Watchtower- are met with failure. Plenty of green light energy residues around the place, indicating that Lanterns must come through here a lot. No obvious traps or mining facilities nearby, though there's a hydrogen harvesting platform on one of the system's two super Jupiters.

I was a bit sceptical of the Sector House system, personally. Given that there are two Lanterns per Sector at most, how worthwhile is it to give them a place in space to work out of? They're going to be able to go home most evenings if they want to, any prisoner is either going to be handed over to a local world or Oa pretty quickly… Then I remembered that this Sector neighbours that of their former First Lantern and I'm surprised instead that it's not bigger.

It's all about sending a message.

I phase back in and accelerate in the general direction of the Sector House, and only a few seconds pass before my ring starts to blink. I raise it to the left side of my helmet. "Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four."

"Paul, was that you?"

"I'm in-system now, if that's what you're asking."

"Guess we've still got some bugs to work out on the detection system."

"I am pretty sneaky." I stare into the distance where I can just about make out the twinkling light of the Sector House with my unaided eyes. "So… Can I come in?"

"Hey, mi… Ah… Space station is you space station."

"Right."

I remove my left hand from my helmet and cut communication. Then I become visible, change my velocity relative to the Sector House to zero and then transition towards the Sector House's entrance. The entrance tunnel is open to space with bright green light shining from its exterior and controlling the flow of air. I can just about see something of the interior of the station.

I hope they've got actual light-lights in there, otherwise seeing everything in green is going to get uncomfortable. I reach out gingerly with my right gauntlet, pressing against the… No, completely permeable. Alright then. I move forwards, floating inside the entrance tunnel.

"You coming in or what?"

I accelerate, coming out into a small antechamber. Air's fine, so I send my helmet into subspace. There are what look like defensive weapons concealed in the walls, paramedic supplies mounted on the walls in case whoever was coming in was injured and several more glowing portals leading off to other parts of the Station. And a normal light mounted in the ceiling. The whole structure is green, but at least other colours show up like they're supposed to.

I pass through the room and descend through the portal in the floor, which brings me out into the main meeting hall. Or rather, what serves as the meeting hall in the Watchtower. Here, it's clearly a working area. There are a small cluster of empty Sciencells along one wall, banks of computer equipment and monitoring screens. Actual screens; they have colour. The meeting table is smaller than the one in the Watchtower and round rather than oblong.

Guy waves up at me as I descend. Lantern Tui is content merely to watch me as I come in to land a short distance away and walk up to the one free seat. I don't recognise the third fellow, but my database identifies him as Betrassusian. Dull purple skin, facial tattoos, powerfully muscular build and-. "You're wearing body armour!"

"Ah? Yes?" He glances at Guy, looking for guidance. Guy just shrugs. "As are you..?"

"Have you got any idea how long it took me to persuade the Green Lanterns from Two Eight One Four to do that?" I wave my left arm at Guy. "I mean, look at him!"

The Betrassusian fellow takes a moment to look Guy over.

"What?"

He looks away. "I am certain that Lantern Gardner's personal protective equipment is adequate to his needs."

Guy gets up and walks around the table, moving behind Lantern Tui before approaching me. "What kept you?"

"I can't just disappear whenever I feel like it, Guy. I have a job." I dismiss my power armour back into subspace as I land, keeping only my lightly armoured field uniform. "Though if you really need me to hold your hand while the nasty Orange rookie makes faces at you, then I suppose that I'm obliged to put in an appearance."

Guy grins. "Just wanted you to see what happens when you Orange bozos tangle with a real Lantern."

We stare each other down for a moment, and out of the corner of my eye I see the Betrassusian chap's ring start to glow.

Then we step towards each other, right hands clasping together as we pull each other into an embrace.

He pats me on the back, a little harder than he really needs to. "Been too long, Paul."

"Sorry. I've been busy."

We separate, and Guy makes an upwards gesture with his right hand. "And what, you can't call?"

"Actually, no. Thanks to the Guardians, orange rings can't communicate with green ones. And I'm…" I look down. "I'm not ready to go back to Earth yet. Stuff to do."

Guy looks at me sceptically for a moment, then appears to shrug it off. "Alright, if you say so."

He keeps an eye on me as he walks back around the table to his seat, and I take position opposite him. "So what's the problem, anyway? I told you Prince Ragnar's not a part of my Corps. If he's committed a crime, arrest him. It's no different to me arresting…" I point at Guy with my right forefinger. "You remember the Poglachian Green Lantern Corps?"

"Ah, man, those guys were painful. Unfortunately, your guy Ragnar-"

"Not my guy."

"-seems to actually know what he's doin'." A holographic image appears in the middle of the table, showing a slender Betrassusian man in silver and orange armour. His tattoos are more complex than those of the local Lantern, and he's carrying a sword whose edge shimmers with some sort of energy field. "Which is kinda the problem."

The Betrassusian Lantern nods. "Among the aristocratic families of my homeworld, status and authority are traditionally gained through combat. Prince Ragnar is using his ring to enable his belligerence. He challenges any other noble who he feels has slighted him and then slays them in the arena. Any criminal who has the misfortune to cross his path is slain no matter what their crime."

"And what does the local law say about that?"

The Betrassusian looks to Guy for a moment before continuing. "As a member of the ruling household, he has the authority to administer justice as he sees fit. And no-one is forced to accept his challenges."

"So he's inconvenient and brutal but hasn't actually broken the law yet." He nods. "He doesn't have a personal lantern. Why not just wait for him to run out of power?"

Lantern Tui purses her lips. "He seems to be managing. That was why we assumed that he was working with your blessing."

Hm. Interesting. "Alright then. It sounds like I should meet him."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
09:45 GMT

Lantern Dulok frowns in puzzlement as we fly towards Betrassus. And probably a little in disapproval. "There are orange power rings scattered throughout the universe, and you have no idea where they are or who wields them?"

"Something like that. I had been assuming that they'd either find bearers in Okaara or be strewn between Okaara and Earth, but if one made it all the way here then that clearly isn't the case."

Lantern Tui looks thoughtful. "Do you think that they have seeker protocols?"

"No, that's… Not impossible, but highly unlikely. Larfleeze didn't make rings in the way that the Guardians and Controllers do, he just ordered Construct-Lanterns to become rings. I haven't worn one for any length of time, but apparently their personalities remain somewhat intact."

That makes her look uncomfortable. "Then do you think..? They're trying to get home?"

"Based on the sample of one that I've located so far, I'd say not." I shrug. "It went to a man who desired something constantly and very strongly. My working hypothesis was that any that weren't just floating in the void would have been drawn to people in a similar way, but I don't have anything like enough evidence to prove that."

Lantern Dulok nods. "And what happened to him?"

"Not a lot. King Myand'r recognised the symbol on the ring as belonging to a local legendary monster and refused to wear it. Then, after we destroyed the Citadel, he didn't want it anymore."

"Would it not have been helpful in restoring his world, or in protecting it?"

"Maybe. But orange rings have an unfortunate effect on the minds of those who wear them. I haven't studied enough subjects to know exactly how bad it can get-."

"Giant cakes, moons spinning around…"

"I put it back."

Lantern Tui blinks. "You… Put back..?"

"Yes? Did-?" I glance at Guy. "I can't believe that Guy didn't mention it when you were on Earth."

"I've learned to tune Lantern Gardner out."

"And see what you miss!"

"How come you're dealing with this, anyway? We're not anywhere near Two Eight One Four."

Guy grins. "Guardians recognised my skills."

"What, they thought you had the best chance of persuading me to help you?"

"Nope." There's a momentary green glow, then a red sash with a gold lantern badge appears across his chest and a red cloak trails from his shoulders. "I mean they formally recognised them. Guess they couldn't have the Host of Ion being a regular Sector Lantern."

"Well done. How did Jordan take the news?"

"Ugh." Guy looks away, rolling his eyes as he groans. "Guardians upped him at the same time. The exact same time. Said they didn't want either of us claiming seniority over the other."

"How well they know you both." Oh. "Does that mean that Two Eight One Four has a new Lantern?" Because if it's Alan I can put that journey to Qward on the backburner.

"Yeah, some Russian chick. I haven't met her yet."

"And she got chosen ahead of Alan because..?"

"'cause the Guardians don't want a guy they can't train from scratch. I asked, okay? I think he's a great guy too."

We've lost Lantern Tui. "Who is 'Alan'?"

"A long time ago there was a Green Lantern called Yalun Gur. He went off the deep end Sinestro-style-." Lanterns Tui and Dulok share an awkward glance. "What?"

"It is…" Lantern Dulok looks away awkwardly. "Something of a point of contention between us. Betrassus benefited greatly from Lantern Sinestro's protection while he was a Sector Lantern here, and I was called to the Green Lantern Corps to take his place upon his ascension to the Honour Guard. Even after learning.. what he did, I still find much to admire about him."

"You wouldn't say that if it was your planet he took over."

"On the contrary. On Betrassus, most battles are fought between small numbers of aristocrats. If a single warrior as skilled as Sinestro emerged he might well rise to a position of supreme power by his own abilities. If anything, the relative peace Sinestro brought is more unusual than the return to the old ways that Prince Ragnar's ascendancy is threatening to bring about."

"Anyway, Lantern Gur goes off the deep end and tries to conquer Earth. The Guardians hear about it and remotely destroy his ring's AI. I don't know if he just wasn't a very good fighter without it or if the AI being destroyed shut the rest of the ring off as well. In any case, the locals kill him and dispose of his ring and lantern. Centuries later, it somehow ends up in the hands of a man named Alan Scott, whose will is powerful enough to activate it. He used it on and off for about twenty five years, and because its AI was fried the first the Guardians heard of it was when Lantern Jordan asked them about him."

"So what irritates me about it is that he's a veteran with incredible willpower who would be perfectly happy to work for them, but the Guardians put a block on his recruitment. No matter how strong willed or heroic he is, he will never be chosen."

Guy winces slightly. "He is ninety, Paul."

"And he rejuvenates when exposed to green light. And how old are the Guardians themselves? Age is no excuse. And I will be telling them that when I visit Oa."

Guy raises his eyebrows slightly at that, but with the atmosphere coming up he decides to ignore it for now. "So what exactly are you planning on saying to Ragnar?"

"He likes fighting, I've got a large war that needs fighters. Unless I see a very good reason not to, recruiting him is my preferred option. Failing that, I'll take his ring and let him think about what he's done."

"Need a bit more detail than that, Paul."

"What? I.. can't, not until I've had the chance to examine his psyche. And since when do you want detailed plans in advance?"

"Comes with the sash, Paul. I'm the ranking Lantern here, which means I gotta take responsibility." He smiles smugly. "And come to think of it, you should probably call me 'sir'. Y'know, when we've got company."

"Okay, one, being ranking Lantern means nothing if the other Lantern is from a different Corps. Two." I let my own formal robes appear from subspace, my full rank insignia running down the left flap. "What makes you think you outrank me?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
09:51 GMT

"Let me see that…"

Guy squints slightly. Power rings will translate pretty much anything, but if the format is very different from your own language it might take a moment for your eyes, ring and brain to work out what they're seeing. The Clickers' written language is quite pretty to look at, so I decided to use that for rank insignia. Unfortunately, because they sort of write with their mouths it tends to result in a column of characters resembling Japanese characters that got pushed together into a single character and written out by someone more familiar with Arabic.

"Lantern assigned to Sector Two Eight One Four… Host of the Ophidian… Hey, where is she, anyway?"

"Still in my personal lantern, but we'll be moving her into the Orange Central Power Battery before too long."

"Oh really?"

"That was the arrangement I came to with her. She wants to experience multiple non-overlapping desire sets, and the best place for her to do that is the Central Power Battery. The Controllers think that'll also boost the rest of the Corps a bit, which is probably why the Guardians keep Ion in your Central Power Battery."

"And your little Demon-things?"

"I find they mostly unsettle people. And I don't want to encourage other Orange Lanterns to use assimilation outside of.. dire necessity."

"Alright. Raised to the Honour Guard…" Guy smirks. "And exactly how many of you are there?"

"The Honour Guard consists of me. The Corps has two other Lanterns and five trainees, not counting Prince Ragnar or the Controllers or… Whoever else has picked up an orange ring while I've been busy."

"Oh. 'cause for a moment there I thought it was a big deal. And, ah-." His eyes widen very slightly. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

Lantern Tui appears to have tuned him out, but Lantern Dulok gamely reads on. "Raised to the rank of Illustres." He looks at Guy. "I suppose that means that he has seniority."

Guy turns to face the planet once more. "No, no, it doesn't count if they're in a different Corps."

Lantern Tui's clearly had enough with our posturing. She dives towards the planet's surface. "Can we please get on with the mission? Sirs?"

Dulok looks like he wants to follow her at once, but hesitates while Guy decides what to do.

Guy and I look at each other. "We should probably-." / "We should probably-."

We twist in the air and swoop after Lantern Tui, heading towards the planet's fifth largest city. Prince Ragnar apparently picked his most recent fight with a scion of its ruling clan, and we're heading for their coliseum now. Though if the flickers of red and yellow I'm seeing are anything to go by…

Magnify.

Prince Ragnar floats before the ducal box as the clan chief very grudgingly hands him… Some sort of medallion. In the arena itself a group of medical orderlies check the corpse of his late opponent for a moment, then begin the process of respectfully removing his body. Sword wounds. Not ring-inflicted. Maybe that's how he's kept his ring going: the environmental shield alone would boost his survivability and wouldn't consume all that much power. If he only wears it in combat…

"Too late for that poor bastard."

"Yeah." So let's take a closer look at Ragnar himself. Ah. "He wanted to be a Green Lantern."

"If that was what he was aimin' for he kinda missed."

"You only recruit when there's a fatality or a promotion. You probably miss any number of perfectly good candidates because there isn't an opening at an appropriate time in an appropriate place. I mean, look at the man."

"Yeah, looks like a real piece a' work." Ragnar turns and raises the medallion so that the crowd can see it. A small group cheer rapturously while the rest seem far more subdued.

"Look at his will. His absolute conviction. And his yellow."

"Barely got any."

"I think there's some there. But you're right; it's so controlled, so... Beaten down. I can barely tell what it is."

"Another Great Clan has fallen." Guy and I look at Dulok for an explanation. "I wasn't certain at first, but now it seems clear that Prince Ragnar is demanding oaths of vassalage from all of the Great Clans."

"And why's that a big deal?"

"All clans acknowledge the supremacy of the Royal Clan, but maintain a high degree of independence. King Nol has been encouraging collegiality and shared decision making. It seems that his son prefers autocracy."

"I've got to say, this is starting to sound like one of those 'Prime Directive' situations."

Guy nods. "Okay. I mean, I think Tui's single but I haven't actually asked."

"What?"

"'Prime Directive'. That's Star Trek, right? Like with Kirk and the hot alien babes?"

"Actually, the Prime Directive was more of a Next Generation thing. And Kirk's libido gets overstated quite a bit."

"Neeeeeerd."

"Pretty much. But this is how Betrassusians decide things. Usually, unifications require massive wars. They're doing it with a few dozen deaths, and none of the people he challenged were forced to accept."

"If it helps, most Betrassusians would rather things weren't decided this way. It was something we were moving away from."

"Then why doesn't the law get changed? Why doesn't the King rein him in? The fact that Sector Lanterns exist shouldn't be an excuse not to gird your own loins and sort the situation out yourself." I sigh. "I better go and talk to him before Lantern Tui decides to do it for me."

I flare my environmental shield slightly, then accelerate towards the arena. Prince Ragnar has flown over to his supporters, receiving backslaps and commendations in good humour with his trophy in hand. Wants to be a Lantern, but grew up while Sinestro was active. As a result he'd be of the 'order over all' school. Which explains why he'd want to follow Sinestro's example and improve 'efficiency' by removing superfluous layers of debate in the planet's government. Curiously, I'm seeing no desire to actually rule himself. And more curiously for me, no obvious sign of spiritual instability. I wasn't expecting anything useful out of this trip other than maybe a mild improvement in relations with the Green Lantern Corps. But I wasn't lying when I said that Prince Ragnar might be exactly what we need.

The background noise drops away as I descend past Lantern Tui and through the open roof of the coliseum. More and more of the locals look upwards, no doubt seeing the green lights behind me as well as my own orange glow. Slight increase in the background fear, but Prince Ragnar's supporters don't seem particularly bothered. One points my way, their idol following it and finally making eye contact with me.

His environmental shield flares as he rises into the air and flies towards me.

"Finally!"

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
09:58 GMT

And he flies past me and stops in front of the slightly concerned looking Lantern Tui. "I was concerned when the ring which came for me was the wrong colour, but now I see that this was just some kind of test of worthiness! Now I can finally join the Green Lantern Corps!"

Oooh dear. I turn around and float up towards them as Lantern Tui drifts back in an attempt to reclaim her personal space.

"Excuse me, your highness?"

He glances at me and then back to Lantern Tui before turning fully to face me. "Are you to join the Green Lantern Corps as well? I do not know your face…"

"It seems very unlikely to me that I will ever join the Green Lantern Corps. Prince Ragnar, it is my sad duty to inform you that the ring on your finger is… Not green." He frowns. "It is, in fact… Orange."

"Is it… Some sort of training ring? Will I graduate to green once the Green Lantern Corps hierarchy has completed my evaluation?"

"Sorry, no. Completely different organisation. Some of the people who have oversight on the Orange Lantern Corps used to be Guardians, but that's about as far as it goes."

"… Oh." He looks like he's not quite sure what to make of the news. From the look of the colour balance inside him I'd say that while he's slightly disappointed he's prepared to hear me out before having a tantrum. "Then why have I not heard of you?"

Behind him, Lantern Dulok and Guy form up next to Lantern Tui.

"While the Orange Lantern Corps technically predates the Green Lantern Corps, it only had one fully functioning member for most of that time and he never came anywhere near this region of space." At least, assuming that Larfleeze went in a reasonably straight line from Krona's laboratory on Maltus to Vega. "We've started expanding the membership recently-."

"And you noticed my skills and sent a ring to me." He nods to himself. "It is not exactly what I wanted, but I will-."

"Again, no. This came as a complete surprise to me. Though if anything, that's more impressive. The only people I've seen acquire orange rings in the wild tended to go insane as a result. Tell me, does it have a mind of its own?"

"Yes. I had it show me its original form. A head, with the rest of its body atrophied. It was weak." He frowns at me. "What does this mean?"

"If a person knows what they're doing, rings can be remote controlled. I used that ability… A little less than a Betrassusian year ago, to call rings from another part of the universe. I did so unintentionally and a number of the rings got lost on the way as a result. The one you're wearing almost certainly came from a planet called Okaara."

"If I was not chosen, why is it on my finger?!"

"Orange rings respond to avarice. Desire, need. You really want to be a Lantern. And now you are."

His expression sours. "This is not what I wanted at all."

"Your avarice was strong enough to call a ring from a very long way away. I'm the only other Lantern I know to have done that. I certainly can't think of any Green Lanterns who have. My question to you is: what do you intend to do with it?"

"I had thought that I was finally being inducted into the brotherhood of the greatest warriors in existence! Not some… Tiny gathering of madmen!"

"Point of clarification: if they go mad we remove them. Going mad is something to avoid, not some inevitable fate that befalls us all."

"And I thought that it was in recognition of the skills and traits of character which I had developed with the specific aim of becoming a Green Lantern! And instead you say it is because the universe decided that I was throwing some kind of childish fit? As if I was demanding power as my right instead of what I was doing, which was working to earn it!?"

"I'm saying that your desires were so focused on your objective that the ring reacted to that. I doubt very much that you could have focused so intently for so long if you had not been working to realise your desire yourself."

He exhales sharply in irritation, then raises his right hand slightly and looks at the orange ring glowing on his middle finger. He stays like that for a moment, watching the glow. "What do you want?"

"That's what I was planning to ask you, actually. If you want, you can hand me that ring and pretend this never happened. Perhaps if the Green Lanterns have an opening-" I look past him to Lanterns Dulok and Tui. "-due to promotion, hopefully, you could be recruited to replace them. You can keep the ring. You called it to you, so it's yours." Guy doesn't look too pleased at that suggestion. "Or you can join us. We are relatively weak now, but we will grow stronger. Centuries hence, our successors will list you amongst the first generation of Orange Lanterns and recount your deeds to inspire their own." I shrug. "What do you think would have happened if you had been called to join the Green Lantern Corps?"

"A lifetime spent in valiant combat."

Ah. I'm getting a better read on his mindset. Something like that of a medieval knight. Your obligations and personal warrior virtues matter, the causes less so. Unfortunate, but…

"I can offer you war. The Orange Lantern Corps is preparing an invasion of Reach-controlled space. The Reach defeated the Green Lantern-"

"Drew with the Green Lantern Corps."

"-Corps and has continued expanding since. I could detail their crimes, though I suspect that aspect doesn't bother you. Their regular soldiers are unremarkable, but their leaders are cunning, their fleet is powerful and their Beetles are a match for most Lanterns. And the Green Lanterns are barred by treaty from fighting them."

He perks up slightly. "You would have me lead warriors into battle against them?"

"Perhaps. If you proved yourself capable. You would also need formal training in how to use that ring, and we'd need to give you a personal lantern to recharge it from."

"I know how power rings should be used. I have studied every scrap of information on Green Lanterns. I even briefly had the honour of being educated by Thaal Sinestro himself!"

Right. Royal dynasty on a planet under his protection. He probably met Sinestro several times, and given how much of a Lantern fan he is I wouldn't be surprised if Sinestro gave him non-classified mission reports to encourage him. I guess I can tell which side of the 'Sinestro: good or bad' debate he's on.

"Seeing Lanterns fight and doing it yourself are very different things. Using a power ring requires that you think and feel in just the right ways while you fight, and the best ways to use your ring can feel quite counterintuitive to someone mostly familiar with ground-based combat."

And his eyes are orange sigils. Damn it, what did I-?

"You think that I am incapable? That having trained my whole life for this I cannot manage even this paltry copy of a proper power ring?"

I'd interject, but since his ring was made by Larfleeze he's technically right.

"I think that you're less skilled than you could be, yes."

"Then I challenge you. Here and now we will see who knows how best to use power rings!"

I blink, staring at him. Did he just..?

"Hah! Okay. When's good for you?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
10:22 GMT

"You sure you can take him?"

I roll my eyes. "Guy, he's a melee fighter. I've spent the last twenty minutes reviewing his most recent fights: he barely uses his power ring. Jordan would do better."

"Heh heh heh." Guy shakes his head as Lantern Tui gives both of us the evils. "You got no idea how good it is t'hear someone else ribbin' Hal."

"You three still doing those training sessions?"

Guy nods. "We were, 'til Hal an' me got promoted. With just John on his own he's probably not botherin'."

"What about-?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, she's still on Oa doin' basic. John'll get t' polish her up once Larvox gets done teachin' her the basics." Something occurs to him. "Oh, hey, I wan'ned t'say… Last session before Hal an' me left? We brought Alan along with us. Show him what we'd been doin'."

"Oh. Um, thank you. I'm sure that he really appreciated it."

"Probably have liked it better if you were there." I nod. Huh. Surprisingly subtle nudge from Guy there. "See you're still usin' John's ring there. Does that mean we're splittin' credit?"

"What, this?" I hold up my right hand and show him the ring. "Does this look like John's ring to you?"

Guy takes it in with a frown. "Huh. No. Looks kinda crappy, actually. That what the Controllers are turnin' out these days?"

"No, this comes from Larfleeze." I shrug. "No one else wanted it, I've already got a normal one and the Controllers are too busy making rings and lanterns for new recruits to make a second normal one for me."

"So what'd you do with John's?"

"That's now being worn by Controller Hinon Hee Hannanan, who made my original ring. She was also involved in making the original Orange Central Power Battery."

"So did she make that other ring too, or was that Larfleeze?"

Outside in the arena, trumpets blare and I start walking down the tunnel. "No, that was Krona."

I step out onto the sands just as Guy's '"Are you shittin' me?"' gets cut off by the closing gates. Prince Ragnar enters from the gates on the opposite side of the arena, smiling faintly as he passes the bloodstains left by his previous opponent. I stand just inside the arena for a moment, then float up off the ground a little so that I can don my power armour. Then I use the armour's flight systems to fly slowly forward.

We both stop just in front of the referee's box, Ragnar with his sword at rest and me settling back on the ground. The referee is a local man and a minor noble. I imagine that he'd like to give me any advantage he can, but his role is far too constrained to allow anything too cheaty.

"We are here to witness the duel between Prince Ragnar of the Royal Clan and Paul, Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps! Gentlemen, state your terms!"

Ragnar looks at me sidelong. "When I triumph over you, I will have your rings and your rank."

"I cannot offer you my rank. It was a recognition of my abilities extended to me by others. But my rings? Certainly." He nods, smiling. "Should I win, I will expect you to acknowledge my authority and join my Corps as a rookie."

He takes a step away from me and hoists his sword in one hand, environmental shield flaring slightly. "Agreed."

"The terms are agreed! Gentlemen, you may begin on the second horn!"

BWWWWWWWRRRRHHHHHH!

Scan the sword again just in case… Yep, good. Environmental shield to minimal, kinetic barrier on… Good.

BWWWWWWWRRRRHHHHHH!

Ragnar charges straight at me, sword held high ready to bisect me. I raise my hands slightly in a guard position and brace. He's grinning and not bothering with a battlecry. His sword should defeat most conventional armour and he hasn't bothered scanning me to detect my force field. Does he not know how to? I'm pretty sure that intelligence gathering is something Sinestro would have mentioned… Wait, how old is he? Oh, he wouldn't have been more than ten when Sinestro got promoted, he probably didn't get detailed lessons.

His sword swings down at my left and my left hand comes up to catch it, kinetic barrier glowing faintly as the blade's energy gets nullified. My right hand opens at my chest, touching his and removing the momentum from his charge. His eyes open slightly in surprise, then my right hand moves left and sends a pinpoint kinetic energy blast into his sword hand.

His sword goes flying away to my left, then a backhand slap from my right arm sends him flying to my right. He hits the sands, rolls and comes up to his feet in a fighting pose.

"Ragnar, if you want to fight me, fight me as a Lantern." I take a step towards him, my helmet vanishing into subspace. Another step and the armour covering my arms disappears. A third and I step down onto the sand as my leg armour joins it. A fourth and I'm wearing only my light undersuit. "My people's duelling traditions are different to yours. I'll let you recharge your ring with my lantern if you want."

"That will not be necessary!" Glowing construct armour forms around his body, and a construct sword appears in his hands. "Arm yourself!"

I bow my head slightly, then shake it. Then I pull my main ring from my left hand and drop it to the ground. He looks down at it, then up at my face as I pull Larfleeze's ring from my right hand and drop it as well. "You're giving up your rings? Do you yield?"

"No." I point at him with my right forefinger. "You're a warrior. I'm a philosopher. There is a good deal more to using the orange light than 'screaming and leaping'. You know your desires. I know desire."

"And?"

"And I will teach that to you. I'm going to take your ring, and beat you with that." I extend my right hand and beckon him to me. "Come."

For a moment his constructs shudder as a wave of red passes through him. Then he recovers, eyes glowing with orange sigils, and charges again. "AAAAAAGGGHHHH!"

I look deeper and-

defeathisenemybecomeagreatandrenownedwarriorfollowtheexampleofhistoricalgreatsearnhisplaceinhistoryreceiveadmirationfindhisplacebringhisskillstotheirgreatestlevelaidhisfatherfollowthepathhe'schosentotheendneverbackdownshownofearremoveallweaknesses

-it's remarkably simple, actually.

Ring, come. I have a lesson to teach.

Prince Ragnar jerks, his constructs failing as his ring flies from his finger. Huh, didn't bring the finger with it this time. I suppose that's progress. I hold out my left hand and it lands directly on my ring finger. Ragnar falls to his knees in shock, then pushes himself back up and starts running towards me again. Filaments flick out and grip his sword where it lies on the arena floor, then pull it through the air into my hand.

"Ragnar, stop. I don't want to kill you. You have the makings of a good Lantern. Yield to me, and I will see that you receive the education you need to become the greatest lantern you can be."

"Never! I will die before I yield!"

Can't say he isn't consistent. I apply a ShockCrown to his head, causing him to collapse headlong at my feet. I hold up his sword for a moment, look at it, then carefully lower the tip to the back of his head until it draws a tiny amount of blood.

Then I look over to the referee. "He is unable to continue. Would you mind calling the match for me, please?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
11:34 GMT

"…come immediately. We weren't lining up other buyers."

Admiral Oswin's aide-de-camp leads the way through the heavy transporter carrying the Kryptonian goodies he used to lure me here, while the man himself strolls along at my side. Other crewmen spot us coming and make a point of ducking into corridors or rooms branching off our route, coming stiffly to attention as the Admiral passes. He ignores them like the peasants-. Lowlies-. Lesser beings they are.

"When an important ally makes such an offer, it is only polite to respond promptly."

Lantern Ernal brings up the rear of the party. I suppose that I could have sent her off to do something else, but Imperial nobles are seldom parted from their retainers and I do want to fit into the 'foreign noble' hole in Oswin's head.

"Indeed." He's got really quite remarkable poise. I hadn't noticed before, but now that I study him I note that he doesn't look around as he walks. His eyes never deviate from directly in front of him. He isn't seeing his subordinates and dismissing them, he's barely aware of their presence at all. "These… Kryptonians. Do you have dealings with them?"

"There aren't many left. A few years after General Dru-Zod's attempted putsch something rather unpleasant happened to their homeworld. Most of them died as a result."

"What of their spacecraft? Surely their navy would have survived, if nothing else?"

"They'd undergone an isolationist turn and put most of their fleet in mothballs. The rest were scrapped after General Zod's take-over failed. They had automated platforms, but nothing they could use to make a rapid exodus."

We walk through the large and heavily armoured doors to the cargo hold, crew already bringing out the bins containing Amalak's hoard for me to examine.

"You said that 'most died'. There were some survivors, then?"

"A few that I know of. A group of marines who went AWOL rather than obey the order to return home when their world went into isolationism. An infant whose father foresaw the disaster and was able to build him a faster than light planetary escape pod. Two clones of his." I shrug as we walk down some steps into the cargo area, the crew backing off and the admiral's aide keeping a respectful distance from his master. "There may be others."

Karsta gave me a list of her fellow former marines. I've… Got a suspicion that I'll be ticking off a few names today. Still.. I.. suppose that it's better to know.

"A good deal of what we found appeared to be civilian clothing. Do you think he was studying their culture or taking trophies?"

"I'd assume the latter." I lean over the first unsorted bin and begin lifting items out. "Not that I have much in the way of evidential basis for it."

But I do remember some sort of showdown in the Fortress of Solitude between Earth's Kryptonians and… Some guy, in the comic misleadingly titled The Third Kryptonian. I don't remember him looking anything like Amalak, but maybe that was due to alien race lifting or something.

"I saw your star chart." Subordinates out of his immediate vicinity, Admiral Oswin's neck has started working again. "Krypton is some way from here."

"Krypton was destroyed about forty years ago. It's quite possible that Amalak could have made this collection before coming here." Good job he gave up early. No, this is mostly civilian clothing. Of no real interest… Except…

Yes. More genetic traces. Excellent. Jor-El's database had a large number of samples, but the whole selection was naturally skewed towards those he had access to. As a result, Els made up the greater part of it. These people weren't Els-. Oooh, that one's a Kul. Hm.

"Amalak also had a substantial repository of data on his own people. Would that be of any interest to you?"

Hmmm… "No. I don't know any and they didn't have the unusual abilities relating to yellow stars that make Kryptonians so fascinating." I put the clothes back into the bin and move to the next container. This one is divided into shelves containing similar items. Ah, the mother lode. Kryptonian crystal data recorders. Probably just… Personal stuff. Still, worth going through just in case. "Just to keep you in the loop, my people seized the last Citadelian cloning plant, the one where they were making the new ones."

"Yes, I heard that those weren't totally moronic. Did you raze it?"

"I wouldn't be scanning Kryptonian DNA samples if I'd done that."

His eyebrows rise. "You intend to recreate the species? That's…" He pauses to control his surprise. "I would imagine that to be a significant undertaking?"

"I already have a race of cloning experts under my command. It won't be quick…" Ring, anything of military significance or is it all fluff?

Wisps of orange light move from item to item as the ring works through them. Not enough time for a full analysis, but merely looking for key terms-. "Data of military significance located."

Alright, show moh my goodness! Flip the heck yes! How has someone not found that already?!

Unable to speculate.

I carefully slide the tray shut and resolve to buy up substantial areas of Texan real estate as soon as possible.

"Okay, that was quite a lot more valuable than I thought it would be." I half-turn toward the admiral. "What sort of things does the Imperium want in exchange?"

Admiral Oswin smiles. "One or two favours." He nods to his aide, who holds up a small holoprojector which displays an image of local space. "Our navy isn't big enough to hold what used to be pirate territory. Still, our people will rest a good deal easier with a demilitarised zone between them and Vega." He glances at me. "Not that I don't wish you the best of luck…"

"Given what they've endured from this area already I can well understand the feeling."

He nods. "Once we've completed our work cleansing the area, we will begin a new series of colonisation missions." Arrows appear. "Here, and here. Lightly populated and minimally industrialised. Plenty of room for our settlers. Still, we have taken losses during this campaign, and will most likely take more when we attack the Wombworld. New colonies have a way of attracting attackers, and there are bound to be vengeful pirates in the area."

"Do you want my help securing them?"

"The Imperium wants Lanterns."

I nod. "I'm sure that Lantern Green Man won't take it too personally if I dispatch a few."

"You misunderstand. The Crown Imperium wants Lanterns of its own. Our people, equipped with power rings. The strategic advantages presented by Lantern speed and firepower would mean that we could secure these locations effortlessly."

Hmm. I.. suppose… The Green Lantern Corps has members from thousands of species after all.

"I.. am.. willing to conditionally agree."

Admiral Oswin waves his right hand. "Of course. Your terms?"

"The Orange Lantern Corps is not part of the Tamaranian government. I am prepared to accept Karaltine aspirants in my capacity as head of the Corps. If they meet with our requirements they will be issued with rings and assigned to operate in Crown Imperium space. However, they will be part of the organisation and answer to me in that capacity while still being Imperial citizens with the duties that implies. They will be permitted to act in defensive and law enforcement roles, but not offensive war-making without my prior authorisation."

"That's… Fair. What requirements would those be?"

"The Guardians don't use orange power rings because they tend to have a deleterious effect on the minds of their users. I suffered from it on more than one occasion prior to my apotheosis, and once the current wave of hostilities is over I'm going to have to sort out a testing regimen for my Tamaranian Lanterns. Fortunately for me, so far as I can tell the Tamaranian attitude of personal openness works to minimise the effects. Your culture is different, more staid, more controlled. The orange light will most likely create greater changes and lead to more instances of… Regrettable lapses in judgement. While I will test Karaltinian applicants to the same standards as Tamaranians, I would expect a greater proportion to fail. Please understand that that won't be because I think the individuals concerned are bad people or spiritually weak. They just won't be right for the role."

Oswin frowns. "I wasn't aware of the side effects of using them. But I will accept your provisional agreement on behalf of Her Imperial Majesty. How long do you want to wait before we start sending you candidates?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
12:02 GMT

Lantern Tui looks a little uncomfortable at my request. "Wouldn't it be better if you did that? No, let me rephrase that: isn't doing that your job?"

"Guy and I are going to be very busy, and Dulok will have his hands full making sure that Betrassus doesn't explode. You have training and experience in handling Orange Lanterns. And this did happen in your Sector."

"It's not that I don't understand the logic…"

"I can offer inducements if you like. I'm happy to give you a holographic disguise that Korugar's scanners can't penetrate. You could hand your ring off to Dulok for a day or so and walk around on your homeworld. Perhaps look up a few friends..?"

"I…" She looks away, shaking her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Hmm." I tap my right fist against my lips. "I am two for three in getting my Sector's Greenies promoted. I imagine that if I focused my efforts on John a little I could probably upskill him sufficiently."

"I'm sure John would appreciate it, but it's hardly enough to make me want to go on a… Wild Duck chase for you."

Someone speaks English, doesn't she?

I smile. "Lantern Tui, are you aware that I see all emotion as patterns of coloured light? So I am perfectly aware that you are exceedingly fond of the chap."

"You can-?" Her environmental shield expands visibly. An anti-Orange Lantern protocol, but one which doesn't really do much to my empathic vision other than green out the surface level. "I'd rather you avoided doing that."

"I can't turn it off. And it looks like you can't block it. Look, if it bothers you I won't bring it up again, but when I looked at your desires those were two of the three things that it looked like I could do."

Her environmental shield dips back down to normal resting levels. "You don't think you can beat Sinestro?"

"I… Don't know." And there aren't a lot of Lanterns I can say that about. I'll have to ask the Guardians if they're willing to share his logs… "But it will be easier for me to achieve my own objectives if I avoid having anything to do with him unless it's utterly unavoidable."

Not that I hadn't considered the issue, even before Dox's revelation. Ah, the eternal question: which version of X am I dealing with? The 'Sinestro Corps' era Sinestro founded a Corps of total monsters in order to force the Guardians to turn their nine law compliant Corps into a military organisation because he believed that a change in their epistemology was essential to create an orderly universe and he'd failed to bring about such a change from the inside. Other versions vary from a conceited power-mad tyrant, an old-school Dark Kantian villain or... Just about anything the writer at the time felt like writing. I suppose I was lucky getting a businessman type Lex Luthor. The Green Lantern Corps considered him to be very good and they haven't managed to bring him down in the seven years since he returned from the anti-matter universe.

On the other hand, I was working out with two Lanterns they just made Honour Guard members before I left Earth and I generally came out ahead during our spars. How much of a difference does coming from a space-aged civilisation, of growing up with the sort of technology that still fills me with wonder, make in that sort of combat?

What's the difference between getting your weapons from a crazy American superengineer and getting them from a crazy Qwardian superengineer?

"Tell you what: how about-."

Our rings flash, and we both raise them as Guy's face appears.

"Hey Paul, he's wakin' up. You sure you wanna do this?"

"I wouldn't say 'sure'…"

"Fine." "Lantern Tui, I ain't about t' order you t'-."

"I'd rather handle it myself than leave it undone. By your leave?"

Guy's construct head nods and she shoots off into the sky. I watch her go for a moment, then transition to the secure medical bay the local ruling clan were only too happy to lend to us. Prince Ragnar is still in his armour, but the mechanical restraints should keep him where he is for the moment. I'm holding his ring in my right hand and his 'buzz sword' is in clear line of sight on a nearby table. Guy and a local doctor stand a little way away. Guy gives me a nod and backs off slightly as I approach her.

"How is he?"

"Largely unhurt. If that was what you intended."

"I just wanted to make sure that there wasn't any obvious damage from his ring usage."

She makes a small swooping gesture with her hands, the local head shake. "He's carrying a number of minor injuries from his recent duels, along with numerous older injuries. Some of which may have been self-inflicted. Are you taking him with you?"

"That's up to him."

"Please do. I'd rather never see him again." She turns away and exits the room with some speed.

"Uuuuuuuuuh." Prince Ragnar blinks blearily, then tries to roll to his right before being arrested by the clamps. His eyes shoot open as he remembers exactly what just happened, then he lies back and looks at me. "You beat me."

"I beat you."

"Trickery."

"Any and all methods, Rookie Ragnar. And you better believe that they're going to remember me taking your weapons from you and beating you with them."

His head falls back slightly, then he lifts it to slam it back down against his solid metal headrest.

"Now, I know you set too much store on your given word to try backing out of the terms of our duel, but just in case I damaged your short term memory-."

"You are the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps, and I have agreed to join. I will fulfil my obligations, but once I learn what you know I will challenge you again."

"That's not quite how it works." I generate a construct chair and sit down next to him. "You see, the orange light empowers you to get what you want. If you continue to think that what I do is… Trickery, your abilities will be impeded. You'll be empowered to fight against me, but not alongside me. You won't respect me unless you see me as a warrior. But, I don't want to fight you." I shrug. "I was wondering how to square that circle, then it came to me: we need to fight someone we both want to fight. And since I don't fight for fighting's sake, we should go somewhere I'd been meaning to go for a while."

Ragnar looks a little curious. "Where?"

"When a Green Lantern with many years' good service does something so heinous that they must be expelled from the Corps, the Guardians may instead sentence them to exile to the anti-matter universe. It's intended as an opportunity for them to receive an honourable death in combat against the Corps' foes, rather than forcing them to return home in shame. That's what happened to Sinestro, when the Guardians found out what he'd done on Korugar. No one but him knows exactly what happened to him, how he encountered a Weaponer and made common cause with him. Even less how he managed to fight his way through the legions of ships, fixed defences or the Thunderers who guard Qward in order to do it. He was a veteran, but there are limits."

"So that's where we're going." I pat him on the left shoulder with my right hand and release the restraints. "To Qward, to do some poking around." I step away as he starts to sit up, showing him his ring sitting on my open left palm. "You'll probably want your ring."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
12:37 GMT

Lantern Ragnar falls behind as Guy and I make our way through the Sector House. I was slightly concerned that we might have to perform the antimatter shift ourselves, but fortunately they have a polarity shift platform here.

That just leaves one question.

"Why do you have an antimatter universe transporter here?"

"Took it off Sinestro one time. Oa already had one. Tui wan'ed t' keep it just in case."

Fair enough.

We land just in front of it and Guy waves his ring at the controls, which glimmer in response. "Jus' take a moment."

I nod, and turn to see where Ragnar's gotten to. He floats slowly in through the entrance to the portal room, openly gawping like a tourist. He notices my amusement and gestures at the walls around us. "This is the keep of Thaal Sinestro!"

"You know that he was an archaeology teacher before he joined the Corps, right?"

"I-." He blinks. "No, I did not. Truly?"

"Yep. You might want to reconsider the sorts of knowledge you need in order to become a great Lantern."

He frowns thoughtfully. "Did he maintain his former profession while he was a Lantern?"

"Nnno?"

"And the strength of my constructs is dependent on how much I want them?"

"How much you want them and want the result you are working towards, yes."

"Then I think that I will leave the humanities to others." He shakes his head. "It would simply serve to distract me." He touches down somewhat roughly. "Are we ready to depart?"

"Yeah." Guy steps up onto the platform and then turns around. "Three express tickets t' the antimatter universe. Hal always said he thought I'd end up there."

Ragnar walks past me to join him. "Why?"

"It's a punishment fer Lanterns who break the rules but prefer t' die than get kicked out'a the Corps."

Ragnar nods, smiling faintly. "And he believes that is what you would choose. It must be nice that the other Honour Guard Lanterns have such a high opinion of your devotion."

"Ye-aaaaah." Guy leans his head slightly away from Ragnar. "Really more that he thinks I will get kicked out."

"But you will do it with honour!"

Guy looks at me as I join them on the platform. "Re-al keeper y'got here, Paul."

"Why ask for a spoon if you want a knife? Are we ready?"

"Yeah. Brace yerselves. I've never done this before, but Hal said it's rou--"

"Transport to antimatter universe in progress."

"-ooougoughoughhh."

Gahhuugh… Yeah… He's… Not wrong. Ugh. Wholeness Rightly Assumed.

Recalibrating for antimatter body.

Oh, great.

"Where is everything?" Prince Ragnar looks around, alert but unafraid. "Betrassus should be in that direction."

"I'll field that one." Guy nods, his face creasing as he tries to shrug off his own discomportment. "Earth's physicists are still puzzled about why the universe exists. If the alpha event created equal amounts of matter and antimatter, it should have destroyed itself in seconds. Instead, we live in a universe where virtually everything is made of matter and there are only trace amounts of antimatter in the wild." I spread my arms out, indicating the empty region of space around us. "Welcome to why. Something about the alpha event caused the two forms of matter with opposite polarity to exist out of… Phase? With each other. And something about that separation process prevented them becoming perfect mirrors of each other, even though they effectively had exactly the same things in them to start with. You won't actually find many places that have direct matches."

There's an Earth, but the one Crime Syndicate I've run into is more than enough, thank you very much.

"Alright, now remember. The first rule of the antimatter universe is-."

"Don't talk about the antimatter universe?"

Guy rolls his eyes. "Don't try shiftin' back on yer own. That's a real good way t' explode." His ring twinkles for a moment, then mine does the same. "You wanna come back, you come here or fly t' where Oa is and use that program. The shift will activate."

Ragnar frowns. "My ring did not glow."

"Yeah, I ain't so keen on lettin' a Sinestro fanboy have the codes to access Oa."

Ragnar's frown deepens, but I interject before he can complain. "If I die, you can just take it from my ring."

He nods. "I will avenge you first, of course."

"Good-oh. Guy, which way's Qward?"

"Roughly where Maltus is in the matter universe."

Okay… Ring. Galactic core is there, spirals go in the opposite direction… Got it. "Ragnar, do you know how to do long distance faster than light travel?"

For some reason he pauses before answering. "Yes."

I nod. "Good. We'll be stopping off at Prisathus, the second world of the Irdini System, before moving on to Qward. Going to Qward openly wearing a power ring is a good way to get killed and dissected. We need to join a trade convoy-" Ragnar starts to look truculent. "-and get into one of their surface trade outposts before revealing ourselves and fighting our way into Qward proper."

"If we're on the planet how are we not in 'Qward proper'?"

"Qward proper is underground. Or rather, under the planet's super tough shell. Assuming that we survive passage we move with all possible speed to Chief Weaponer Kalmin's fortress. He made Sinestro's yellow power ring and we don't want him making any more. Secondary objectives include gaining intelligence on Qwardian military operations and technology. The tertiary objective is to inflict as much damage on Qwardian production facilities and personnel as possible."

Ring, plot course.

Course available.

"Follow me."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
13:11 GMT

Miss Amane grins at me as I step through the boom tube, arms folded behind my back. "All clear, Master!"

"Yes…" I look around at the brutally deconstructed remains of the high caste Dominators who used to run this place. "So I see. Any remaining resistance?"

"Master." She shakes her head disappointedly. "I would not have said 'all clear' if there were any left alive."

No, you wouldn't, would you? I nod as I walk over to their research computer and extend a construct connection between it and Mother Box. "The minefield?"

"In perfect working order, Master. And the G-Trolls have already installed the boom tube jammer." I turn and walk towards her, causing her to come to attention. And look a little nervous, actually.

I raise my right hand and pat her on the head with it. "Thank you."

"Master!"

"I am also grateful for your work on the Wombworld and on Karna. Many Genomorphs, Karnans and Karaltinians owe you their lives for the devastating effect you had on their defences. And I'm sorry that I haven't made time to speak to you in person since."

"I-I am happy to serve, Master!"

"And I am privileged to have your loyalty." Hm. It would be extremely useful to keep this place in one piece. None of what we took from Emana really says Command Centre to me, but we haven't even started work on that ship-scale boom tube, and… Ugh, getting the minefield would require one even bigger. I lift my hand from her head. "Would you please escort me to Mister Dox?"

She nods, steps back and waves her scythe at the air to her left. There's the expected bang as the boom tube opens. With all but one of the hush tubes being devoted to the logistical effort of moving materials and personnel around in Vega and the last being left available to the Blacks, she and I are left with boom tubes. I… Thinking about it, I should probably get her a Mother Box of her own at some point. I was going to leave off getting one for Lynne until she left High School, but Miss Amane is in the field now… Unfortunately there isn't really anything else I can offer Himon that won't risk Father… Expressing his displeasure.

And speaking to him again…

I follow Miss Amane through the portal and into what was once the command centre, a couple of G-Elves working at removing the bloodstains. I give them a polite nod before turning my attention to Mister Dox. There's a G-Gnome perched on a chair next to him while the man himself is splitting his attention between the various holoscreens around him.

"Mister Dox. If I might have a moment of your time?"

He doesn't look around. "Yes."

"I am unfamiliar with Coluan social customs, but in most places it's considered polite to look at the person speaking to you."

"I believe that you are correct. An inefficient social custom."

"True, but just this once I expect you to put up with it." Acknowledge Your Sovereign!

His eyes dip, a quiet sigh escaping from his lips as he pauses the flow of information and swivels his chair around. "Grayven of Apokolips. A world not known for its people's largesse. I presume that you want me for something."

"Oh, I haven't been home for a while. I've picked up all sorts of bad habits. Mercy, compassion, love..." I smile. "But, yes, I do want you for something. Getting good use out of the G-Gnome there?"

"It is convenient to have another input channel beyond those I naturally possess. It also gave me the opportunity to confirm that my telepathic defences were as strong as I believed them to be."

"Good man. Sensible use of your time and resources." I generate a construct chair and sit down a short distance from him. "I've got a job for you. I think that it will engage your full intellect for… At least a year, and I'm happy to let you use your spare time to pursue other projects. Should you have any."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Two jobs really. Prime Minister of Tamaran and Clarissi of the Orange Lantern Corps."

He blinks three times rapidly. "Explain."

"I recently removed an oppressive government from the Vega Systems, and now Tamaran has the opportunity to rebuild itself. I was able to secure some orbital infrastructure so you wouldn't be working from scratch, but there's little infrastructure on the planet and dozens of potentates with their own priorities ready to fight you on every decision. A good deal of your job will involve keeping them on-side and focused on the task."

"Explain Orange Lantern Corps."

I raise my left hand to show him the sigil on my ring. "Orange power rings. They run on avarice rather than willpower. I've got one for you if you take the job."

Ping!

"Oh, and they can have adverse effects on the minds of their users. The first fellow to try using one for any length of time turned into a total basket case. I haven't really noticed anything too bad." For a moment I look at my arms and try to imagine the response of my former self to what I've done to myself.

…

Huh.

Okay, but I don't think it was the orange light doing that.

"Point is-" I fold my arms back behind my back. "-that I'd also like you to organise the Corps. Most of it will be creating working procedures, recruitment and training programs, managing resources in relation to my directives… Essentially being my Chief Executive. At the moment there are fewer than two hundred Lanterns but that number can increase for as long as they stay mentally stable and we have a use for them." I smile faintly. "You will not get an offer like this from anyone else."

"And if I refuse?"

I shrug. "Then I'll drop you off on the planet of your choosing and wish you all the best. That's pretty much what I'm going to do with everyone else here." But who would I take on in his place? Maybe… An AI of some kind? I never did bother asking after Red Inferno…

"Some of the people here are violent criminals."

"And? If you hand people over to the Dominators you rather lose the right to complain about their custodial failures. To anyone but them, anyway."

"And if I accepted your offer, then wanted to leave later?"

"You could… Your severance package would depend on exactly how much of a pickle you were leaving us in. Set things up and train a replacement first and I might even let you keep your ring." I half turn away. "Come on, the sooner you get started-."

"I haven't accepted yet."

I stop. "What were you planning to do with your freedom, Mister Dox? Start your own White Hat mercenary band, wasn't it?"

"You saw the recordings."

"No." I really didn't. Honest. But the G-Gnomes confirmed my comic-related memories before Miss Amane pulled him out. "But even your actions are predictable within a given range. Now, you're an intelligent man. Perhaps you could pull it off without any seed capital, personnel or other resources at all. But it would take longer and be much harder. No, you'll come with me, even if it's just to get more information. And when you do that, you'll inevitably start thinking about how to make the whole situation work for you. And since your information about anywhere else would be worse…" I shrug. "I'll see you when you yield to common sense."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
14:36 GMT

The crew chief looks at us uncomfortably as the unarmed shuttle lands gently on the landing platform of the Qwardian surface city. Having had a chance to read up on the local documentation I have to say that it isn't really a Qwardian Qwardian city. The locals don't live here-.

Ah, sorry, I should say 'a Q'ardajin city'. Humans' name for our species means 'thinking man'. Their name for their species means something like 'people who guide destruction'.

At least we've confirmed that the Anti-Monitor is no longer in residence. That's not a fight I'm anything like ready for.

"Okay." The crew chief is Prisathian, from a world that's been a Qwardian tributary for so long that their history makes no mention of them ever being anything else. They're a pseudo-amphibian species that have actually benefited from Qwardian society's recent opening of its markets; people want Qwardian weapons but would much rather not go to Murderworld themselves. "I don't know who you are or why you wanted to come here. And I don't intend to find out." I nod as I pass him the case of rhodium coins that represent the balance of our payment. It's unlikely that he'll betray us now that we're here; the Q'ardajin would consider him fatally culpable at this point and he knows that if we're here to start trouble we either don't mind dying or are very well equipped. "Wait until we're gone before doing whatever you came here to do. Oh, and on the off-chance that you're really just here to buy weapons, my corporation is happy to handle shipping for all Council of Commanders approved contracts."

He hands me a business card, and I slip it into my suit. "Thank you. Should we require shipping, yours is the first name we will enquire after."

He flaps his gill slits nervously, then pulls the lever which operates the door. "Enjoy your stay…"

Guy stomps forward first, clanking across the gantry towards the reception centre in 'local veteran mercenary' armour. The Q'ardajin don't much care who comes and goes from places like this, so while they probably have scanners capable of detecting residual power ring energy they haven't bothered deploying them here. Conventional security isn't all that tight, either. Everyone who comes here knows what will happen to them and everyone around them if their behaviour arouses the ire of their hosts, and the Q'ardajin don't feel the need for import/export controls. There are a couple of the flying robotic heads that serve as security monitor drones in the upper parts of the large chamber we're entering, and a small cluster of the drug-stupefied slave-clones that form the first line of expendable soldiery in the event of actual problems. Biologically they're basically Q'ardajin, but have longer arms and a much more developed musculature as well as ape-like facial proportions.

It's interesting. A lot of places like this wouldn't want their mutants to be on display like this. They'd think it made their species seem fallible and less intimidating. But the Q'ardajin genuinely don't care what others think of them, rather than not caring for their approval. These poor unfortunates work as intimidating engines of destruction, so they put them to work.

A robohead painted in pale green floats down towards us from an alcove in the ceiling. "Identify yourselves."

"I'm Ernie Ernest. These 're my friends Joseph Jones-" He holds out his right hand in my direction. "-and Donovan Wallace. Joe an' me are from Earth, Don's from Uranus."

"State your business on Qward."

"Takin' in the bazaars, buying some samples. Maybe see about taking part in some pit fights." He shrugs. "See how it goes."

"Noted. Excellent odds are currently being offered against alien mercenaries prepared to take on Thunderers, while shorter but still profitable odds are offered on mercenary teams taking on exotic competitors such as Qward-built combat robots and cyborg-slaughterhounds."

"I was really thinking something a little more survivable, heh. Q'ardajin.. ain't exactly people I'd want t' pick a fight with."

"House policy states that what happens in the pits stays in the pits. However, lesser gladiatorial pits are available if you wish to test yourselves." There's a small flash from its mouth as it fabricates a holoprojector, which it ejects in Guy's direction. He catches it, then turns it on for a second. "This contains a map suggesting local locations which may prove to be of interest to you. Have a profitable trip."

"Yeah. Thanks." The head has already started floating back up to its recharging alcove. "Bet cha' Hal didn't get those."

He leads the way out of the reception centre airlocks and out onto the street. Qward's outer surface has an atmosphere, but it's thin and not exactly fresh-smelling. With our rings warded and placed in dimensionally displaced pockets to avoid detection we're relying on facemasks to provide us with readily breathable air. They also allow us to mask our communication from external monitoring.

"Robot greeters don't exactly shout 'galactic menace', do they?"

Ragnar looks around, staring combatively at anyone who looks like they might be able to provide a decent challenge. "I will be severely disappointed if this is the limit of their people's capacity for combat."

"Trust me, it isn't."

"Actually…"

"What?"

"You get a look at the sensor panel when we were comin' in?"

"Yes?"

"Lot fewer ships than I was expectin'. Might even be we coulda flown through it." He tilts his head to the side. "Wouldna' been easy, but…"

"Is that new? I always got the impression they were supposed to be a major menace."

"What, you didn't get that off'f John's ring?"

"No. I assume that it was highly classified, need to know only. Now, if I'd have pinched Jordan's ring…"

"Anyway, somethin' screwy's goin' on. I think we should have an actual look around, not just head for the shaft."

"Okay. Anywhere in particular?"

"Bars 're usually pretty good places t' start somethin' like that."

I wince. "Last time I walked into a bar like that everyone fled and I got attacked by a squad of Thanagarian mercenaries."

He raises his eyebrows slightly. "Really?"

I nod. "We talked it out, but it wasn't-."

"No, I jus' can't see you walkin' int' a bar." He smirks. "But did j'a learn anythin'?"

"Yes, actually. Alright, it's a reasonable place to start." I half-turn. "Rag… Nar?"

Who isn't there. Oh… Shazbot.

Guy snorts. "Lose the rookie already?"

"Yes, yes I have." Take a risk on empathic vision… There he goes. Running around somewhere like this is probably not a good idea. "Okay, which bar are you going to be in?"

He slaps my chest with the back of his right hand. "Don't be dumb, Paul. We ain't splittin' up. You get after him, I'll watch yer back."

"Right."

Doing my best to look like a confident and well armed weapons merchant, I set off through the city.

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
14:43 GMT

And of course he headed straight for a fighting pit. And the only explanation I have for how he got that far ahead is that he didn't mind drawing attention to himself by running. We didn't take the time to do much work on his armour and unlike Guy and myself he didn't have any changes of outfit stored in subspace. As a result, one sensor dampening cloak aside he's still wearing his royal armour. It's not that there aren't people in snazzy armour around here, but they generally have Writs of Invitation and substantial bodyguards to protect them. There are already a number of people not-so-subtly following-.

Ugh. Weaving through the crowd I step up behind a lightly armoured figure who wasn't paying quite enough attention to his environment and hold an x-ionised knife to his throat. "Hello there."

He tenses slightly but doesn't otherwise move. "I'm wearing a force field, fool."

"And I'm not fool enough to threaten someone wearing a force field with a knife that can't penetrate it. The chap in the fancy armour is a friend of mine. Eyes off."

He hesitates, perhaps weighing up his chances. "Fine. But I can't speak for anyone else."

"I wouldn't expect you to." No one approaching me. "Now, I'm going to turn left and you're going to turn with me. When we're pointing at the door, you're going to start walking and keep walking until you're outside. On two."

We turn, and I move my knife aside slightly to get him leave. He goes a couple of steps before taking a sneaky look back, but my clothing masks my face and is generic enough not to be particularly notable. His armour is a little more notable, with the red smears across… He's a gang member. Ah, doesn't matter. It's not as if we're sticking around. Or ever coming back. Now, where's Ragnar gotten t-.

"…new entrant to the blood arena, Donovan Wallace of Uranus!"

Ooooh. Drat. I sigh. At least he remembered his cover name.

"And his opponent, victor of over eighty bouts and making his seventh appearance in the blood arena, Thunderer Duran of Qward!"

No no no no no. I step forward with a little more force now, making my way to the edge of the third floor balcony overlooking the pit. I'm going to assume that he got in there that quick because they were having trouble getting a Thunderer an opponent. The thing about Thunderers is that while in the comics they've suffered from major villain decay -losing to Jordan on several occasions in spite of his acknowledged skill shortage while dressed like silver age villains, an army of them getting pasted by a five man Crime Syndicate, getting near-exterminated by the first members of the Sinestro Corps- in the real world they really haven't. They're superbly well trained and equipped soldiers. I doubt that he'll be using qwa-bolts in confines this close -because there wouldn't be an arena afterwards if he does- but their melee weapons use tiny amounts of qwa-energy to cleave through anything and their armour and shields are at least as good as anything I could make. They're generally not all that agile in the air -which is how Green Lanterns best them- but at close quarters like this their strengths are magnified.

He better not be planning on using his ring.

Ragnar vaults over the edge of the lower balcony, brandishes his buzz sword and holds his arms up for the crowd to hail him. A few bang mugs against the balcony lip but there are more laughs than acknowledgements. His expression changes from expectant to dismissive, though I make a point of jabbing my right forefinger at him when he turns my way.

That causes the git to smile again.

His opponent isn't made to vault over anything; they open the actual pit doors for him. The Thunderer's traditional wing-decorated helmet sits on his head, and the thing about a helmet with wings on is that it's still a metal case to protect the wearer's head, which is more than ninety five percent of superheroes manage. Thick armour covers his chest, back, forearms, shoulders and lower legs, while a flexible mesh undersuit protects the rest of him. I haven't been able to precisely evaluate the buzz sword, but I wouldn't want to try it against the solid plates. That leaves face, thighs and sides as targets. His eyes are covered by the red cybernetic attachments Q'ardajin elites like to use in place of their natural eyes. It makes them seem somewhat bug-eyed, but it also serves to render them immune to a wide range of visual distractions and widens the portion of the electromagnetic spectrum they can see. There's a quiver on his back, but it's empty. Instead of the qwa-bolts I half-feared, he hoists a round shield and a short sword aloft.

"BLOOD AND PAIN! BLOOD AND FIRE! BLOOD AND DEATH!"

This time the crowd roars its approval. Only sensible really, however they actually feel about it. In the dim light from where the Thunderer entered I can see the faint glow of his personal organiser robohead, and I don't doubt for a moment that it's recording everything.

Ragnar looks mildly put out by the approval his opponent is getting, but gamely makes a salute with his sword before picking a stance with sword raised high and both hands on the grip. For his part the Thunderer crouches slightly, shield forward and sword drawn back to stab.

No salute for the alien.

Right, I need to get down to that level and prepare to intervene. Or at least grab him once the match is over so he can't sign up for another one. And -I spot another spectator having his pocket picked- I need to avoid getting blindsided. And make sure that if he dies then none of the locals gets his ring. Getting it off whoever gets to strip his corpse is going to be awkward, especially if I want to stay undetected.

He and I are going to have a chat about mission discipline after this is over. After Lantern Tui tells me what she found out.

As I walk away from the balcony the noise from the crowd jumps and I hear the thump and clang of their initial probing exchanges. Ragnar's sword glows a sort of purply-pink when active and qwa-energy discharges tend to be a shimmering yellow. Not that it'll look anything like a lightsaber battle: Ragnar's sword might go through the Thunderer's armour but if he tries to parry with it, the Thunderer's sword will go straight through it without slowing.

Across the room I see two people with red stripes on their armour watching me. Ugh, already? No, worry about that later. Another round of clanging and stamps as I thread my way through the crowd in the direction of the stairs downwards. Two well-equipped bouncers are vetting the people allowed down, though they don't appear to be troubling those who come up. I step into the clear circle in front of them and look the closest in the eye.

"What's the entry fee?"

"A Qwardian supply contract, a pit-record or being Qwardian."

"Don't you mean 'Q'ardajin'?"

She huffs. "No one calls them that. They don't like it when aliens use 'their word'."

Ah. Noted. "The man fighting the Thunderer down there works for me. I'd like to show my support."

"That sucks for you. But you can support his death wish perfectly well from up here."

"I don't suppose that I could interest you in a bribe?"

"I dunno. Could you?"

I turn up my empathic vision. What does she or the house want? Ah! It's just a screening process. Those aren't hard and fast rules, just baselines. Anyone prepared to splash around more than a certain amount of money is allowed down. If I bribe big, they'll let me past and mark me down for a fleecing. Hard to judge precisely, but… I put my right hand inside my robes and pull out two platinum coins, then hold them out.

She raises her eyebrows, apparently not impressed.

"I'll make sure I get a supply contract really soon."

She grabs the coins from my grip, making a point of tugging hard on my fingers and in doing so triggering my kinetic barrier. She feels that happening, her expression getting just a little more respectful. She steps aside. "Anyone asks, you snuck past."

"Is that better?"

"Big crowd, someone pushes past in the confusion. We're muscle, not psychics."

"Okay, thank you." Another series of thuds from the pit. The crowd has quietened down quite a bit. I guess that Ragnar's doing a reasonable job. I walk past the guards and hurry down the steps as fast as decorum permits me.

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
14:48 GMT

There's a good deal less competition for space next to the balcony on this level, though that may be because no one wants to get too close to the small Q'ardajin… You know what, Qwardian is easier to say. The small Qwardian contingent watching their comrade in arms. Their officer actually looks at me curiously as I intrude on the invisible bubble around them in order to watch Ragnar…

Ah. I wouldn't say that he's winning, but he is doing okay. It seems that he learned to avoid the qwa-blade the hard way: there are rents in his bracers and I think that I can see a little dried blood as well. A few angry red-purple burns have appeared on his face, though those are from near misses. If the Thunderer had hit then he wouldn't have a head any more.

In return, the Thunderer's shield is mildly scored in a few places.

"Impressed?"

Aaand the Thunderer officer appears to have decided to slum it with an alien. Marvellous. "Mildly impressed that he isn't dead yet."

He pauses for a moment. "The challenger is a friend of yours?"

"Recent employee. His death would be… Awkward in some ways. Convenient in others."

"His armour and sword are unequal to the task." I nod without turning away and Ragnar weaves around a series of stabs, preventing his opponent pressing with a series of high and low swings aimed around the Thunderer's shield. "But his skill does not shame him."

"I'm sure that he'd appreciate the compliment, sir."

"He'll not live to hear it." He leans forward. "Duran, press!"

A moment's distraction, Thunderer Duran's eyes move to his boss for a instant. Ragnar takes advantage immediately, ducking slightly and moving around to the Thunderer's shield-side so that the man can't see him clearly. He then brings his sword around in a two handed swing directly at the shield. It hits home and is deflected right back by the interaction of its own force field and the nature of whatever the shield is made of. The Thunderer turns instinctively in that direction at the same time as Ragnar swings wide in the other direction, his buzz sword striking the armour covering the Thunderer's upper sword arm. There's a momentary flare of purple energy as the buzz sword's force fields go a little crazy at finally getting something solid to bite into-

"Gyagh!"

-then the Thunderer reacts, slicing awkwardly at Ragnar's extended arms with his qwa-blade.

"Agh!"

The blade passes through Ragnar's armour, but I don't think that he got anything critical. Ragnar backs off, smiling viciously as the Thunderer takes a moment to check his wound. Yep, that went through the armour and drew blood.

My neighbour seems somewhat less than impressed, breath hissing through his teeth. Yes, slumming it like this only works if you don't lose, doesn't it?

"Will you take a turn in the pit yourself?"

"I don't think so. Public exhibitions aren't really my thing."

The Thunderer moves his shield to the side, giving himself more room to move his sword. He also switches from a stabbing stance to a slicing one, advancing more rapidly as blood drips from his wound. That looks like it hurts a lot, but Qwardian upbringing leaves its survivors well equipped to endure pain. And Ragnar… He's clearly loving this. He tries to take advantage of his opponent's opening, but rather than interpose his shield the Thunderer uses his sword's lighter weight to parry-.

That's not a parry. Ragnar realises his mistake too late as the qwa-sword severs the tip of his buzz sword, the area around the slice going dull and grey. Ragnar at least doesn't repeat his error, making probing swings but making sure not to let his sword contact his opponent's.

"Better."

He doesn't sound happy about it. Reminds me of EA: anything less than total victory starts to look like a failure. Even if Duran ran Ragnar through now this fight has demonstrated that Thunderers aren't actually all that skilful and that alien weapons can stand up to Qwardian weapons. Even when you win, you lose.

Ragnar holds his sword out towards his opponent, then glances back as he realises how close he is to the pit's wall. He lunges, aiming the severed tip of his sword at the Thunderer's chest. The Thunderer steps back and swings, cutting another chunk of Ragnar's sword off-. Ragnar keeps coming, dropping the remains of his sword and slamming bodily into the Thunderer, left hand grabbing at his sword's hilt while his right-

"GAH!"

-hand stabs into the wound his prior attack made. The Thunderer's shield is sheared in half as the Thunderer loses control of his sword, the shock causing him to drop it to the pit's floor. Ragnar grins, then swings his right fist into his opponent's unarmoured chin.

"Yah!"

The Thunderer officer's hands crush the balcony railing.

Ragnar swings his left arm outwards, knocking what's left of the shield out of the Thunderer's hand as the qwa-sword falls to the ground. The Thunderer strikes Ragnar's bare head with his left elbow but Ragnar just absorbs the hit with a bloody smile and grabs his opponent's helmet, stabbing his thumbs through the eye slits.

"Nruh!"

Ragnar lifts, the Thunderer's helmet coming free and revealing his shattered cybernetic eyes beneath. Ragnar swings, striking Duran in the face with his own helmet and knocking him back before tossing it aside and slamming his fist into his enemy's forehead.

The Thunderer falls, stumbling backwards before collapsing. Ragnar looks around for a moment, grins, then bends down to pick up no why are you doing that! He picks up the qwa-blade and raises it above his head in a salute to the crowd who are watching in silence.

"Victory!"

I look at the commander. The man might have accepted one of his losing a fight, but touching a qwa-energy based weapon?

"Hold him."

The other Thunderers draw their own blades and level them at me. I raise my hands, showing myself to be unarmed. "Commander-."

The commander vaults over the balcony, Ragnar turning to face him as he lands. "Another challenger? I'm hardly fresh, but I'll face you tomorrow-."

The Commander lunges, and as Ragnar moves to counter he twists his wrist and slashes sideways-. Ragnar's sword and forearm go flying-

"Phrah."

-and then the Commander's left gauntlet smashes into his face, breaking his nose and stunning him.

"Thunderers, ascend! Bring them!"

One of the Thunderers facing me sheathes his sword and tosses g-huh. An electrified bolas-thing. It wraps itself around me, paralysing my body. Still nothing I can't fight my way out of, and 'bring them' suggests that they're not planning to kill me immediately.

The Thunderer who bound me hoiks me onto his shoulder and then activates his armour's flight system. There's an explosion as we shoot upwards, bits of ceiling raining down and I get a half-second view of Guy being entangled in the same way I am. Another has Ragnar, his severed stump thoroughly cauterised.

And then the Commander flies out through the roof, flies high and draws a qwa-bolt from his quiver. He looks down at the pit beneath us and the streets surrounding them.

Then he throws the bolt, a yellow smear briefly connecting it to the ground.

And then the area evaporates in a wave of yellow energy.

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
16:07 GMT

"No fuckin' way."

"Your doubt is-."

"No fuckin' way!" Guy glares at Ragnar. "There is no fuckin' way you planned this!"

Ragnar shifts his right arm slightly, drawing emphasis to the cauterized portion. "Not in every detail-."

"You know nothing about Qwardians and your arm got cut off. Admit it. You jus' ran off 'cause you wann'ed t' fight someone."

Ragnar draws himself up slightly. "They are clearly a martial people, much like my own. I assumed that by taking part in one of their traditions I could ingratiate myself with them and win an invitation into their keep."

I look around our oubliette. "And here we are."

The Thunderers none-too-gently flew us to their closest fortification and dropped us in a holding cell. They didn't even bother giving us a more than cursory check over. I mean, yes, none of the weapons we're carrying apart from our rings would enable us to escape, but there's such a thing as professionalism. As it is, we're as close to the tunnel into Qward proper as we can be without flying through it and it's all due to the Thunderers themselves.

"And if their boss had cut off your head rather than your hand?"

I actually hear Ragnar chuckle. "Death is always a possibility in combat. Even in training." He lifts his injured arm higher to get a clearer look. "Though I will look forward to having a force-cloned arm grafted on as a replacement, since I no longer have my sword the lack of a forearm should not affect my combat performance too greatly."

"Here." I reach into one of my inner pockets and pull out a vial of Wallace's healing potion before passing it in Ragnar's direction. "Drink this."

"No. Pain is both a powerful motivational tool and a training aid. I strengthen my spirit by resisting it."

"It's not a painkiller, it's a regenerator. It won't grow your arm back but it should prevent you being weakened by your minor injuries." He doesn't reach for it. "If we were in a safe location I'd let you bleed to your heart's content. We're not, we're in enemy territory and I expect you to be at full fitness. This is an order, rookie."

He grimaces, but obediently snatches it out of my hand. "What is it?" He removes the cap with his teeth and takes a sniff. "Nanotechnology? Some sort of smart bacteria?"

"A magic potion. Now, before you say anything-." His eyes widen slightly, then he downs it. "Oh. I was expecting more scepticism."

"Sinestro's sister was a witch of considerable power. I was briefly interested in the art myself, but was unable to find anyone who could teach me." He checks the vial to make sure that it's completely empty, then drops it on the ground. "I.. had not realised that you appreciated.. my service enough to offer me such a valuable unguent." He gives me a shallow bow. "Thank you."

"Hah!"

"You're welcome, but… Um. Our homeworld has.. lots of magic users. A friend of mine is working on mass producing that stuff. I mean, I don't.. have all that much with me…"

"Oh. Well. My thanks anyway." Orange light glows in his eyes. "Exactly how common is-?"

"And you won't need to get a cloned replacement. Given how much a fundamental part of your identity your ability with melee weapons is, I'd be surprised if you don't just grow it back."

"Your species may be able to regenerate rapidly, but I will not grow my arm back without external aid."

"Ragnar, when they come and get us for what will probably be a public execution in revenge for embarrassing them-."

He frowns. "Why would you assume that? If their leader wanted me dead then he would have slain me in the pit. I am expecting them to make us fight them to the death, in a private place where their ineptitude will not shame them before others."

"Why?" I look around. "To be honest, I was expecting there to be a giant monster in here."

"Anti-Monitor aside, Qwardians don't really go in for giant monsters." He turns to Ragnar. "And how did you know me an' Paul weren't gunna pick a fight with the Qwardians then an' there?"

"Actually, I was surprised that they were able to capture you. I assumed that you would evade them and meet up with me later."

"I don't let the bad guys just carry off my guys. But I was this close-."

The barred gates to our enclosure slam open, two Qwardians armed with some sort of gun taking up position at the edges of the opening as the commander stands in the centre. The three of us turn to face them.

"I am Commander Roval and you are my slaves until such time as your miserable lives are extinguished. And that time will not be long in coming. You will either leave this cell of your own accord or you will be driven from it. Then you will be assigned the greatest honour aliens such as you may aspire to: duty as weapon test dummies for my troops."

"Perhaps your troops can best test dummies. Are the rest as skilled as the one I cut down?"

"I will kill you personally." Commander Roval turns away and walks down the corridor without bothering to glance back.

"You see!" Ragnar grins at me. "He recognises my skill!"

One of the remaining Thunderers levels his gun at Ragnar. "Out. Now."

Ragnar leaves first, grinning smugly as we walk to our intended deaths. Guy and I walk side by side as the Thunderers back off, keeping out of charge range as they keep their guns levelled at us.

"Sinestro has a sister, huh?"

Guy glances at me with his left eyebrow raised. "You didn't know that?"

"No, I really didn't. Korugar's history doesn't dwell on her."

"She didn't really do much. I think Hal fought her, like, once."

"What's her name? I could probably look her up."

"Ah… I don't really remember. I think it was something like '-."

"Silence!"

We both glance at the increasingly unamused Thunderers escorting us. "Tell me later."

Ten grams of platinum on 'Dextera'.

The passageway we're walking along is broad, and I can already see the wide opening of the external exit. Maybe that was an animal pen they put us in? My air mask would have kept the smell out. I can already hear the chanting of the Thunderers outside, the air reverberating with cries of 'Blood and X'. I get a better view as we come to the mouth of the tunnel. There are about forty Thunderers, arrayed in ranks around what I'm going to assume is the fighting area, and a scarred Thunderer responds to a nod from Roval by thrusting the handle of an unpowered sword at Ragnar's remaining hand. Ragnar takes it with a polite nod, quite cheerfully striding after Roval into the open area.

These poor bastards.

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
16:12 GMT

"Fellow Thunderers of Qward!"

Ragnar is shoved out into the fighting circle, but for the moment no one steps forward to join him. Instead, Commander Roval remains at the entrance with his arms raised for attention.

"When I commanded you to make use of the gladiatorial pits the aliens have assembled on our world's surface, I did so in the certain knowledge that real combat teaches lessons that no amount of sparring amongst ourselves or against automata could teach! This past year we have spilt more of the blood of inferior species than at any other point in our lives, and I know that you have relished that opportunity as I have!" He starts to pace, arms waving. "But today! Today the unthinkable has occurred! One of our own, beaten, by this alien you see before you now!"

A murmur runs through the crowd.

"This is unacceptable. He must die for his temerity. But. This also represents an opportunity. Far more can be learned from a skilled warrior than from the bravos and scum who are all we usually fight, but such public loss of face cannot be countenanced. This Donovan Wallace of Uranus has shamed one of us."

The back of the crowd of Thunderers parts, and I see two escorting a third between them. He isn't wearing a helmet, his cybernetic eyes are broken and wires run from the holes where they used to be to a band around his head. Ah, some sort of sensor. It looks like Thunderer Duran has recovered from his cranial trauma. Aside from the blood steadily running out of his eye sockets and the obvious patch job on the armour protecting his sword arm.

"Duran failed in his task, and so he will be granted the first bout. Should he emerge the victor, he will be repaired and allowed to regain his place amongst us, his honour unstained! Should he lose, lots will be drawn for the alien's next opponent until he finally falls. When he falls, we will move on to his comrades."

Ragnar grins. "I'll kill all of you!"

One of Duran's escort shoves a qwa-blade into his healthy hand, then they both back off and rejoin the ranks of Thunderers surrounding him. Huh. Mundane sword against Thunderer armour means 'head shots only', qwa-blade against an injured Betrassusian means 'any hit wins'.

I take a moment to look around. If this is the local Keep, the portal to Qward's innards should be… Over there, I think..? We're not going to get a better location to go 'active' from. Of course, Ragnar himself is loving this.

Too bad.

"Ragnar!" He looks around, a look of sudden discontentment on his face as he works out what I'm about to order him to do. "Arm up!"

He grins, and raises his sword into a higher posture.

"You have a concealed weapon, alien?" Roval sounds almost amused as he draws his own sword. "Draw it and die."

I smile faintly, holding out my hands slightly with palms upwards.

"This is my cause, this is my fight,
Shine through the void with orange light.
I've claimed all within my sight.
To keep what is mine, that is my right."

My rings shimmer into being, Guy following suit a moment later. Roval's grip on his sword tightens slightly as he stares mystified at the orange rings.

"What-?"

A construct cold gun shot to the throat silences him as my clothes evaporate, being replaced by my power armour. His corpse falls to the ground, his brittle-frozen neck snapping and breaking apart as he hits the stones.

"Agh!"

Ragnar has obediently donned his ring, but it looks like he wasn't ready for it to recreate his arm. The grizzled Qwardian who passed him the sword is more on the ball than the stunned rank and file, his gun coming up pointed at Ragnar the moment he starts glowing. I generate construct armour around myself as I redirect my cold gun. But Guy's beaten me to it, a bolt of green striking the weapon and its wielder.

"Head in the game, rookie!"

Ragnar generates construct armour around himself, a construct replacement for his lost buzz sword-.

"Use a gun you prat!"

The Thunderers are alert now, rising into the air with shields pointing towards us and their swords out. Those I'm not so worried about, but-. I see one at the back of the crowd grab a qwa-bolt from his quiver. A cold beam from my construct splashes off his shield as I fly in an evasive pattern. Every one of these Thunderers has qwa-bolts, and our best chance to make it through this fight is to keep them too occupied to draw them.

Guy's in his element, darting around and striking Thunderers from odd angles to bypass their shields. A small group fly at him with their swords out and he's forced to back off. A moment later Ragnar surges into them, bodily battering one out of the air and slicing into the side armour of another with his construct sword.

"Oaagh!"

I duck under a Thunderer's charge and then blindly lash out with my right arm, hitting him in the back. His armour doesn'tshitshitshitshit!

I fly as fast as possible sideways as I spot a Thunderer level a qwa-bolt in my direction. There's a crack sound as it activates, the comic-style lightning bolt leaping from the Thunderer's hand in a brilliant bolt which instantly connects it to the wall behind me. The wall is cratered, three Thunderers who were in the way simply annihilated and my construct armour basically gone on the side facing it.

"Shoot anyone who goes for their bolts!"

I manifest two additional cold guns and set them to target exposed flesh. Guy's mostly just battering them down with brute force while Ragnar's charging and stabbing-.

I form a railgun construct as I spot a shield huddle forming around a Thunderer on the ground. They don't appear to be wearing any sort of sound filter, so I generate a sonic cannon and project a vertigo signal in their direction at the same time as loading a crumbler construct. Their shields waver slightly, but I think they're mostly just gritting their teeth and bearing it. My cold guns fire again as Thunderers try to hem me in, forcing me to duck and weave-. They're aiming not at me directly but at my construct guns. That near miss cost me a cold gun, but now I've got space I fire the crumbler round. It strikes-. Ugh, it hits a shield… Which survives, but generates such a colossal wave of force that it knocks the huddle back and gives me a clear view of the Thunderer with the qwa-bolt.

And gives him a clear view of me.

In a split second I fire twice and then take an armoured barrier out of subspace and interpose it. In the same moment he finishes calculating his shot and triggers his bolt. The barrier vaporises and all too much of the residual force slams…

I hit the ground, construct armour gone and my power armour a wreck pinning me down. Two Thunderers fly at me, swords outstretched for a finishing blow. My construct armour reappears and I drag myself along the ground away from them. Cold guns. Two construct guns appear, one on either side of them. One Thunderer takes a hit on the neck and dies instantly while the other gets his arm in the way. The beam is partially diffused around his armour, but I see him shudder and grit his teeth as the remaining energy starts freezing him.

A green speck pierces the wall on the far side of the arena and flies toward the one Qwardian who hasn't moved since the fight started.

My pursuer falls back, unable to keep control of his flight system. I use the moment's respite to begin repairing my armour and checking on my colleagues. Guy's energy pulses are knocking Qwardians out of the air with ease, sending them into the ground with bone cracking force. I suppose that the Guardians' rules against killing are a bit fuzzier on the subject of compound fractures. Ragnar leaps Mass Effect Vanguard style from Thunderer to Thunderer, his sword always finding the thinner parts of their armour.

"Duran of Qward. Do you wish to regain your honour?"

What's that?

Ragnar's former opponent grabs the thing-. It's a ring, a power ring. "Yes." There's a flash of dull green as he jams it on his right middle finger, the bronze of his armour being replaced by the colours of the Anti-Green Lantern Corps.

"Then welcome to the Antithesis Corps. Twenty four hours of life remain to you. May your death bring glory to Qward."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd August
16:15 GMT

Guy pauses in his battering. "Ah, great. One a' those."

I hit two Qwardians who thought I was distracted enough not to notice them going for their qwa-bolts with cold beams. "Guy, stay away. He can drain-."

"At last!" Ragnar grins. "An equal!"

At least he seems to still be in control of himself. I just wish I was in control of himself. Ragnar charges towards Lantern Duran, who responds by lashing out with his injured arm. A wave of dull green energy surges out from his ring, slamming into Ragnar and beating him back. Ragnar goes flying, his construct armour cracking and failing as he slams into the ground in an uncontrolled hurtle.

"Get up, alien! My sole remaining purpose in life is to humble you and then kill you!"

Ragnar nods as his construct armour knits itself back together. "Better than you have tried!"

Yes, I imagine that teaching him to be humble would be an uphill battle. Ah, okay, if his construct armour still exists at all then anti-green rings don't have the same 'total nullification' effect against orange rings that they do against green ones. He should be able to manage against another rookie for a little while.

"Orange? An interesting choice."

W-? There's a Qwardian face, wearing what looks like a deerstalker hat and with a pair of welding goggles across his eyes.

"Avarice, if I remember correctly. Fortunate for me that you use the same communication system as the Green Lanterns."

Ragnar and Duran engage in a brief beam of war. Ragnar's orange force projection gets battered back, but fortunately he has the sense to get out of the way rather than simply let his enemy's attack strike home. He fires a conventional energy pulse back, which Duran blocks with a construct shield which mimics the one he had during their pit fight.

A qwa-bolt I'd missed narrowly misses Guy before slamming into -and through- a nearby wall, revealing a hole inside. Quick scan… Yes, that's our way down. I fly towards the opening, cold gun constructs taking shots of opportunity. Once we're in the open air, evading qwa-bolts will be a far simpler matter. And assuming that they haven't had any major upgrades we're all faster than Thunderers in the air.

"I had considered using it, but I found that it tended to drive my test subjects insane."

"Chief Weaponer Kalmin, I presume?"

"Not any longer. 'Weaponer' will do fine. Is the Green Lantern of Sector Two Eight One Four with you?"

His head turns around on my ring and he catches sight of Guy dodging and weaving as he uses construct lassos to pull the qwa-blade of one Thunderer into the arm of another. The resulting energy discharge blasts the arm to pieces, burns the armour protecting the Thunderer's side and probably causes all kinds of internal injuries. It also allows Guy to grab the man's severed hand with a construct, said hand still holding his qwa-blade. Guy then uses that to stab at a third Thunderer from odd angles, removing his left leg in a flash of yellow energy.

"No, no one from Two Eight One Four is that creative."

"They are since I've been teaching them. Power rings are tools, not weapons."

"An intelligent attitude. Which is not to say that they don't work perfectly well as weapons."

The handful of Thunderers left are keeping their distance from Guy and I, mostly wanting to keep a solid wall between themselves and us. Could kill them all, but as long as they're suppressed they won't prevent us moving on to our objective. "Guy, ready to leave?"

Guy takes a second to check his surroundings, then generates a green construct demolition charge on the wall above where most of our foes are hiding. "Nearly." I see it as a green blast wave shoots through the wall, causing it to collapse onto our opponents. Trapping them in a way which probably won't kill them. As long as-.

A yellow explosion evaporates a chunk of the debris, and everyone who was underneath it.

As long as none of them were prepping a qwa-bolt. Fortunately, it looks like Guy's ring hasn't registered that as a 'kill'.

Ragnar and Duran are still fighting each other. Duran's added a glaive to his dark green energy bolts while Ragnar parries each shot or swing. Persuading him to break off is going to be difficult.

I raise my ring into a more convenient speaking position. "What's with the weak defences, Kalmin? How are we even alive at the moment?"

"I haven't killed you because you interest me. As for these dullards, you may thank High Weaponlord Varnathon of Q'uldi for their lack of preparedness. And for aliens being allowed on Qward at all."

"I take it that he's a fan of peaceful trading relationships?"

"Bah!"

Sounds like someone I need to support. And I imagine that the Guardians would consider that knowledge to be useful as well. I generate a railgun construct and take aim at Lantern Duran.

Ragnar spots my movement, his eyes widening. "No! This is my fight!"

Damn it. Ragnar turning my way attracted Duran's attention, and a blast from his ring destroys my construct.

Guy's hesitating just in front of the hole. "Hey! Are we-."

"I know!" Turning back to their fight I see Ragnar switch to a one-handed stance with his sword and generate a kite shield for his defence. He uses that to deflect Duran's swing, then slashes at the back of his construct glaive. The glaive shatters, Ragnar tries charging again and Duran-

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

-fires a colossal beam of energy at Ragnar, blasting his shield apart, breaking his construct armour and battering the conventional armour beneath. Duran maintains his attack, slamming Ragnar into the ground and then into a wall as his armour continues to abrade.

Right, transitioning… No, non-functional. Fine. I recreate my railgun and shoot Duran with a crumbler round.

"Guh."

The beam slackens off, giving me the opportunity to stick a harness around the dazed and bleeding Ragnar and drag him towards the exit hole after me.

"Wait, I-." Ragnar breaks my construct in a surge of orange light. "I have nearly beaten him!"

"Ragnar, we've leaving. We have a mission to complete. He'll follow us. Get moving."

Oh, at this point… Guy drops out of sight and I rocket after him, construct boosters adding to my speed as I fly downwards into Qward. If Ragnar dies it'll be awkward, but it's only one of Larfleeze's rings with no added database. I should be able to call it, and even if I can't it's a bearable-.

Ragnar comes through the hole, looking around for me for a moment and then accelerating down while keeping a shield construct above him. Oh, good. Now we just have to-.

"Careful, Lantern. These tunnels aren't undefended."

My ring shows me huge cannons unfolding from the tunnel walls half a mile below us.

"Try to survive. I have a use for you."