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

[Mr Zoat]

12th July
19:03 GMT -6

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

"Is that Sportsmaster, Master?"

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

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

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

"Did he?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you, Master!"

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

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

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

"Ring, release."

"Unable to comply."

"You understand that I genuinely desire this?"

"Unable to comply."

"Why?"

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

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

"Insufficient data."

"Sinestro?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Ring, Dorrance."

"By your command."

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

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

"Ring, Crock."

"Subject not found."

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

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

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

"By your command."

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

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

Show me.

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

"By your command."

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

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

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

"Just a moment!"

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

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

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

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th July
19:07 GMT -6

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

"Is Jade hurt?"

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

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

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

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

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

She nods. "And afterwards?"

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

"She is-?"

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

Uh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did he do to you?"

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

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

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

"Oh, Grayven."

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

Her face slips back into neutral.

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

There's a moment of silence.

"How did he die?"

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

"Who else knew that you had killed him?"

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

"Artemis?"

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

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

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

Oh, this is… Drivel. Ring, hush tube.

By your command.

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

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

I don't know.

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

"Grayven."

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

"Thank you, for returning his body."

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

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

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

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

I close my eyes again.

Ring, close the.. tube.

By your command.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th July
02:49 GMT

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

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

"All of them? He agreed?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Compliance.

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

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

Compliance.

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

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

Uuugh.

I hear shrieks from-.

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

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

Compliance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th July
03:12 GMT

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

"Yes. I do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can you help her?"

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

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

She frowns. "You're telepathic?"

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

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

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

"As much as I can."

"Then that's probably for the-."

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

"How can I help?"

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

"Okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good show. Rikane out."

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

"E-excuse me? Orange Lantern?"

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

"Yes? How can I help?"

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

I straighten up. "You do?"

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

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

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

Ring, is there a Hny'xx on record?

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

Yes, yes. And?

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

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

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

This could be… Interesting.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th July
03:28 GMT

Those are some decidedly unfriendly looking ships.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Compliance.

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

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

Ring?

Readings acquired.

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

None found.

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

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

Matches found. Displaying.

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

Compliance.

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

No signs of habitation detected.

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

Displaying.

Warp.

A flare of orange, then-.

Phase!

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

Confirmed. Standard pattern Gordanian spatial disruptor mine.

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

No signs of detection detected.

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

Compliance.

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

That…

Ring, trace?

Acquired.

Is it going to one of the possible systems?

Confirmed.

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

Compliance.

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

Distance reached.

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

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

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

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

But… Can almost certainly be expanded at will.

Unable to confirm.

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

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

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th July
03:47 GMT

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

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

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

Ring, are they talking about us?

Confirmed. Pertinent data intercepts available.

Play.

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

"Admiral, why?!"

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

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

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

"I hear and obey."

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

"That was… Unexpected."

"Can we shoot it now?"

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

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

"And it's staying."

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

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

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

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

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

…

What?

"You want to bring a Lantern here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ring, where would the Okaarans record their Larfleeze sightings?

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th July
07:02 GMT

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

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

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

"Thank you. Your confidence-."

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

"All on paper?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Compliance.

"What do modern Okaarans think about it?"

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

"He's down there!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Profitable business."

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

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

"Well…" I shrug. "If you insist…"

Ring, where is their transport?

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

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

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

Transition.

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

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

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

"Someone ask for me?"

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

"Oh? And what might that be?"

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

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

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

"As opposed to..?"

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

"And… How long..?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, right.

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

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th July
07:55 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Probably."

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

"Right now? Nowhere."

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

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

"That makes me curious."

"I just provide security and workers."

"Workers?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Feel like taking a swing at him yourself?"

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

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

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

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

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

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th July
09:36 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

Compliance.

And armour, obviously.

Compliance.

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

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

"Can I help you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good of you."

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

"Are you going somewhere..?"

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

"What do you want?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pity. Trogaar has explained the situation?"

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

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

"Naturally."

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

"Depends on the fleet."

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

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

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

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

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

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th July
10:02 GMT

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

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

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

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

"And if he had been?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you."

"Anything in particular?"

"Surprise me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Compliance.

Uraghuraghuragh!

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

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

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

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

I…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Five seconds.

"Ooooowwwaaaagh!"

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

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

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

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

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

"You're trying to reverse engineer it."

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

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

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

"And the Gordanians?"

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

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

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

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