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

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
05:38 GMT

I feel the faintest of rumblings as the Assailant.. lands on Citadel Complex. Normally, when a ship of this size arrives at a space station it docks. A few heavy duty clamps grab the hull, gangways are extended and form atmosphere seals between the ship's airlocks and those of the station. If the two parties really trust one another there might also be a system for automatic resupply, but from the look of the Citadel shipyards it would appear that they prefer using tender vessels for that. It makes sense; they might be fine automating resupply for their own ships but I imagine that their business partners would want to check things manually. Using tenders for everyone means that they don't have to bother with two systems. Jarko does the same thing. Amalak uses an automated system for his employees and has tenders for his hirelings. The Spider Guild system is -naturally- completely automated.

The Citadel Complex is huge, but even it isn't big enough for a battleship to land inside. Or rather, it isn't designed with that in mind. Volume-wise it could fit inside about a hundred times over, if you didn't worry about the contents at all. Instead, there's a sort of… Socket system, where the part of the Assailant's hull which has the main external entrance plugs into the station. The ship side entrance doesn't have an airlock; it's clearly designed for this purpose only. It means that a huge number of people and supplies can be taken off or put aboard extremely quickly, minimising turnaround time.

It also makes it fairly easy to assault out of.

The work teams aren't surprised to see the marines waiting inside the ship when the hatch opens; they'd just assume that the whole complement wants to spend as much time on shore leave as possible. And those amongst them who are slaves generally aren't inclined to question the people who can administer physical chastisement -up to and including eating parts of them- at will. They aren't even worried that the marines are all carrying their weapons. That's pretty normal for Citadelians. And if the Captain isn't with them when he was so eager to report to the Emperor in person, well. His ship's been shot up. He's a busy man.

They don't start worrying until the guns come up.

"For the Admiral!"

The first rank accelerates to a sprint as fast as their bulk allows, firing shots at any Citadelian not with us. The second rank advances behind them at a walk and the rear rank uses their power armour to leap up, firing while in the air. Their armour doesn't have an AI but it does have an automatic targeting coordination system. Citadelian infantry guns aren't powerful enough to kill a Citadelian soldier in full power armour quickly unless several guns shoot the same target at the same time, overloading the force field and penetrating the armour. The observable effect is that while there's no communication between soldiers, squads all shoot the same target until that target is down, then move on to the next.

They might not be all that clever, but what they can do they do very well.

Return fire in the first few seconds is nonexistent. Aside from the surprise our Citadelians' threat designation system prioritises armed targets. Ten seconds in and our soldiers are filtering through the spare shipping containers of parts and supplies or standing atop them on overwatch, the defending marines dead on the deck.

Good, good.

I look down at the point defence drone the Psions cobbled together and then throw it into the dock, sending the activation signal once it's well inside. It stops, scans its environment and starts shooting internal cameras. While I don't mind the defenders knowing that someone is coming, I'd rather them not know to prepare for Lanterns until it's too late to do so. Positron containment beams lash out at various points along the walls, and a moment later I get an all-clear signal.

"We're on."

The princesses and I fly out of our sensor obscuring bunker in the cargo deck and zoom into the station. I wonder if they realise that they've now made it further than their grandfather's fleet ever did? The front wave of marines is about two thirds of the way to the inner entrances. We're not particularly close to command here, but a short blitz through Citadel Complex's entertainment section should put us in roughly the right place to kill the Emperor. The Citadel's main computer system is on the far side of command. Now I need to task a squad to evacuate the slave workers-.

Force fields activate at the far end of the room, blocking most exits. Komand'r and Koriand'r fly ahead, construct tower shields appearing as they watch for incoming attack. I generate railguns and load crumblers, firing my first volley just as the first autoturrets appear. The defensive system here was designed under the assumption that this was somewhere an enemy who made it this far would be likely to try to board and there are a lot of them. Fortunately, we planned with them in mind. Squads facing high rate of fire weapons duck into concealed positions, rising up to shoot the gun's force field before returning to cover to allow their own to recharge. Squads facing slower firing high power weapons keep moving, trying to deny a multi-kill shot to the gun that can easily blast through their shields and any cover they could get behind.

Which leaves we three Lanterns facing the four anti-ship guns. These are intended to shoot through the hull of any ship landing troops and out of the other side. Before the Citadel reached its present size they were external guns and -in extremis- this section can be opened to space to allow them to fire at targets outside the station. Unlike the smaller battery powered turrets these draw power from the station's main generator, which means that they actually aren't all that slow to fire.

The guns aren't pointing at me, the simple program controlling their actions immediately realising that we're far too small and agile to reliably hit. Instead, they try to fire directly forward through our marines and into our ship. Komand'r and Koriand'r block a shot each with their construct shields. Both are knocked back by the strike and both shields are badly cracked. I manifest additional railguns and start shooting at the same time as generating a barrier of my own.

You. Will. Not.

Two anti-ship plasma cannons vent their fury against my barrier as my crumbler rounds eat through the force fields protecting them from-.

Warning: teleporters active.

But I'm jamming-!?

"Base to base teleportation-"

I see robot guns appearing on the-. The cargo transporters! Komand'r replaces her shield and generates a sword as she flies towards her gun. Koriand'r is a little slower off the mark and spots a heavy turret as it materialises, locks onto her and fires. Rapid fire turrets blindside my marines in three places and I see shields overload and soldiers fall.

"-unaffected."

The guns shooting me cease in order to recharge, their protective coverings moving over their muzzles. Recharge time is about twenty seconds.

"Agh!"

Komand'r tumbles in the air as a heavy turret shoots her in the side, her constructs visibly fading as she stops focusing on how much she wants the guns destroyed. She's not actually hurt, but that could change if she gets hit again without getting her head back in the game.

My crumblers eat through the armour covering one of my assigned guns. The gun itself has a force field around the barrel, but that only takes one more shot to wreck. One down. Next gun.

Koriand'r detours to assist a marines squad-. No! Why would you do that? And she… wants to so ordering her not to wouldn't actually help. I budgeted for this but it's still irritating that it happened so soon. My railguns are chewing through the armour -I don't know what it's made of but some clever Psion integrated materials which resist whatever it is which makes crumblers work- but we've only got seconds until they fire again.

Komand'r rallies, air around her rippling as she slams into the force field protecting her gun sword first. The first shield flickers and dies and she goes to work on the second. Koriand'r flies at the gun she was assigned to, her marines pounding along behind her and assisting their fellows as they go.

And then the gun armour retracts to allow them to fire again.

Komand'r manages to get her sword through to the gun before it fires. Plasma spurts in all directions as muzzle containment fails but she's still hit by enough to finish off her shield and construct armour. Her power armour looks somewhat melted as well, but she's still alive and the partial misfire has ruined the gun. She tries pushing herself up but the armour is too damaged to allow it. Orange light runs all over it as she works to correct that.

Koriand'r rushes a shield and throws herself in the way of her gun once more. She's a little too slow, not managing to soak more than a fraction of the beam before her shield and construct armour fail. What's left of the beam scythes down most of the marines she 'rescued', burns through several cargo pods and then burns into the Assailant. Can't judge the damage quite yet.

My railguns tear apart my second gun the moment it shows itself, then I go to work on Koriand'r's.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
05:44 GMT

The Citadelian I'm healing tries to rise just as soon as he's physically able, and his armour screeches in protest. Another orange pulse to repair that and he rolls to his feet and lumbers back towards his squad without a second thought. That's the last of them. Losses on the attack were… Well within budget, and we're ready for the next advance. The breaching squads are already working on the doors leading to the entertainment section.

"Captain Gralg, what news?"

"I declared us loyal to Admiral Dakyn, master. I felt that might serve to explain your presence."

"Good thinking." I lift off the ground and fly over to the soon-to-be-breached entrance. "And what are the other ships doing?"

"Moving out of the way of the Citadel Complex's defence systems. No one likes the Emperor enough to risk being shot by Dakyn's other supporters, but no one wants to try getting to here to join in. Heh, and Dakyn's out of the loop completely. Not that the Emperor would believe that."

"What's the Emperor saying?"

"Plenty of things. Heh, some of which don't make a lot of sense considering that we're clones. He gave up on trying to appeal to my loyalty pretty quick, and he's been cursing Dakyn over the comms since. Dakyn had no idea what was going on, but the Emperor's ranting made it pretty clear that if the Emperor survives then Dakyn won't."

"So he's effectively on our side."

"That's why none of the fleet are trying to shoot us in the arse. Eh, not enough to do anything. And it turns out that the Emperor has a vellocet habit, which hasn't exactly impressed anyone." He makes a huffing, grunting noise. "Working for you is far better, master."

Oh, you flatterer. You're just saying that because I rewrote your brain. "Let me know if anything requires my attention. Orange Lantern out."

The breaching team starts clamping their handles onto the cut segments, ready to drive them forwards. Ring, scan… And feed that information to the Citadelians' armour.

Compliance.

Nothing but hover drone platforms immediately behind the door. They're not large enough to kill Citadelian marines quickly, but they can drain shields and spot for marksmen. As well as revealing the Lantern presence. Hm. I attach a tether to the Psion drone and pull it down to me.

There's an almighty tearing clank as large pieces of the blast door come free and the breaching squad advance. The drones on the far side don't open fire immediately. Probably waiting until they can get a clear shot off. Then the next squad advances, their helmets' displays already showing them where the drones are. They exchange fire with the three closest drones, and moments later the drones are down and the marines are all standing.

Koriand'r looks at me expectantly. "What is our next target?"

A flare of orange and I've created a copy of the Psion drone, adding a small gravity repulsor drive. "We don't have one immediately. We let the Citadelians clear the entertainment section and only intervene if they can't progress." I send the modified drone after the Citadelians. Curious that they've never adopted support drones for their forces. Probably the First wanted to keep control of everything directly. Or maybe he felt that his offspring wouldn't be able to maintain them in the field?

"But we are far stronger! Fighting alongside them, we will advance far faster and with fewer deaths."

"They're Citadelians, Kori." I can hear the contempt in Komand'r's voice, though she's careful not to let herself feel hate. She's learned that lesson. "Killing their kind is why we are here. Don't think that if he wasn't controlling their minds they would hesitate to kill us."

The entertainment sector of Citadel Complex is a little like a huge shopping centre designed to cater to a warrior race. Some establishments are slave run, owned either by Citadelians retired due to injury or infirmity or by aliens from allied power groups. Others are owned by the house, a way of parting the Emperor's subordinates from the money he just paid them. And some are mutually owned, like most of the fighting pits that serve as a means of dispute resolution and entertainment. Most fights aren't actually to the death; killing unenslaved aliens is usually a slap on the wrist thing but killing other Citadelians just isn't on. Fights can take just about any form, from ritual Klingon style head butting contests to armed combat with a referee. For death fights there are actual gladiatorial arenas, though most of those are run as PvE. It looks like most of the workforce has pulled out…

"And every moment we don't show ourselves is one less moment they have to prepare a Psion surprise."

"It… I understand your logic. But it galls me to let our allies fight on unsupported."

"Remember the Hierarchy. Remember why we're here, and realise that our cause and our actions are one and the same. There is no conflict."

Koriand'r looks away. "This is not how I was trained."

I create another two drones and send them to cover our forces. They can't maintain their stealth effect while moving, but they're small targets and it doesn't look like things survive long under concentrated fire around here anyway.

"Overwhelming force? Only giving up what you can afford to, while preserving what is most precious? I remember being taught that."

Koriand'r narrows her eyes. "I think I remember our lessons somewhat differently, sister."

"What would you like to do with them?"

"Why not maroon them as you did the Gordanians?"

"Because the Gordanians have the skills necessary to start a settlement and the Citadelians don't. They're soldiers, and… That's about it."

"Even so-."

"Tamaran is going to need more soldiers, both to man your ships and train a new army. Would you take them?" She hesitates to respond. "And that's leaving aside the fact that I don't actually like putting people under my influence like this. Would you have me do it for the rest of their lives?"

Lightly armed Citadelians charge at the advancing line from one of the fighting pits. They've got the same plasma projectors as our side but only light armour. The beneficial effect targeting protocol markers is having on our side is immediately obvious when the attackers pick their targets, pointlessly firing on individual opponents rather than combine their fire. They wouldn't be able to stop the attack, but they might have been able to kill one or two.

"Does it cost you anything?"

"Don't know. Haven't tested it enough. Not that I've noticed."

One of our squads splits off to check the interior of a building. Looks like a pub. No Citadelians, though a Branx is standing behind the bar and.. several clearly terrified slaves are cowering in various corners. The Strike Team Leader sizes up the barkeeper while the rest of the squad checks the property.

"Orders, master?"

"The Branx can stay. Evacuate the slaves and then return to the assault."

There's a sort of.. grunt of acknowledgement, then he gives the orders. The barkeeper appears to protest and his bar receives a plasma bolt by way of admonition.

"Koriand'r, slaves incoming. Give them a basic check-up and then load them into the shuttles."

"Very well. But this discussion is not over."

"As you will. Komand'r-" Ah. "-it appears that our soldiers are about to begin encountering serious resistance. Prepare for combat."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
05:58 GMT

The thing about Emperor Damyn -when compared to most emperors- is that he isn't special.

He wasn't born into an ancient dynasty and raised in the expectation that he would one day occupy a position of great power, educated and trained by the best tutors and generals his family could find. He wasn't so outstanding an individual that he rose to stratospheric heights due to superlative personal skills and achievements that set him apart from his fellow man. Citadelians are clones. They start identical, and aside from rare attempts they hardly ever vary the formula that has worked so well for so long. He was given the same education that all of those around him received and experienced the same social factors that they did. He rose from infantryman to officer not by being more capable than those around him but by being luckier.

Oh, as he grew older he seemed to get the hang of the political elements slightly faster than those around him, but given his origins he could be almost totally certain that was the result of environmental factors. And then, when the previous Emperor finally failed the First for the last time, he was bumped up for reasons he couldn't understand. Implanted with a few more upgrades and compelled to remain on the Citadel Complex. Given that the First would have been in his thoughts more than in those of any other officer… Did he know that something was going on? Or just..? Feel powerless despite his apparent power? Or was it just frustration at being at the top with nowhere else to go?

Since he was basically a seat-cover for the First's throne, I suppose that I shouldn't be too surprised that he developed a drug habit. But being visibly out of it when making an important call? That was just stupid. Did he get too used to having the First nudge him whenever he had to do something important, or has the stress of actually being in charge already turned him from a recreational user to a full on dependant?

No idea. But it looks like he hasn't lost all of his planning skills.

Across a wide open plaza force field barricades and stationary support weapons are covering every approach to the command section. True armoured vehicles and fliers couldn't fit in that part of the station, but between drones and the heavy-variant power armour being worn by the elite guard they've done their best under the circumstances. Marines in my service are finishing clearing the entertainment section behind them of slaves -and suggesting that the remaining residents might want to find somewhere else to be- while others are forming up in preparation to assault the defences. They're outnumbered about three to one and every so often the defenders take a long range shot with their heavy weapons at the buildings they're using for concealment. The internal structures of Citadel Complex are resistant to infantry scale weapons but heavy weapons go through them easily.

I try scanning the elite. Twenty three of them in total, but what exactly does their armour do?

Unable to identify.

No, that would have been too much to hope for.

"Strike Team Leaders. Switch to cold guns and return fire."

Obedience is immediate, and I feel a momentary pang about the influence I have over these people. They're malevolent and most likely irredeemable, but…

I wouldn't trust anyone else with this power. Heh, even though I'm going to be giving it to hundreds of people. It's not a contradiction; I'll just be keeping an eye on how they use it, hoping for the best and quietly expecting the worst. Do I trust myself with it? I certainly don't like using it, but the alternative was.. killing them. And possibly not being able to sneak in here at all. The advantage this has over assimilation is that the organic person survives and this can be turned off. If Tamaran takes me up on my offer, I'll have to leave it on permanently. There's no way they would integrate peacefully into any society… I don't think. Amalak said that he wanted some. Would that work?

As my marines begin moving into firing positions they start taking plasma fire from the front line of infantry on the other side of the plaza. Range is seldom a problem during fights on space stations, though plasma attenuation might have been a problem if we tried coming in through the outer hull. Rather, they had been holding off firing their smaller weapons due to the need to score multiple hits on the same target to pierce their shields. Their rear lines are holding fire, perhaps waiting to see if our side intends to charge. Their heavy weapons cease their sporadic firing, aiming at points where our side appears to be massing.

And then the cold guns open fire.

Interesting thing about cold guns: due to the nature of the weird, standard-model-of-physics-breaking thing it does, most types of force field don't work against it. Which means that those barricades the loyalists have erected do little to stop the white beams of absolute zero striking home wherever they're pointed. The armour material the barricades are made of causes them to serve as reasonable insulators, designed as they are to maintain integrity against plasma fire. As a result, localised super-cooling causes them to crack and fracture and expose the gun emplacements behind them. Other shots hit the guns themselves, cracking barrels and containment bottles. The incredible cold combined with the weapons' own safety measures causes most of them to fail safe, but I see three go critical and explode while seven others experience serious leaks. The fliers fall from the air almost immediately, their anti-gravity systems completely unable to keep functioning when cooled to zero Kelvin.

And the effect on the infantry…

Mister Snart has really been soft-pedalling people.

The outer layer of Citadelian power armour is designed to be a good conductor in order to prevent multiple plasma or laser shots to the same location piercing it. The same is true of the muscle enhancement systems underneath. The only thing that really helps is that the armour doesn't have cybernetic plugs to aid the user.

It doesn't help by much.

It takes about two seconds for a beam focusing on an infantryman to freeze them solid. Not that they fire like that; the combined effect of several beams works just as well and whole squads are firing. They.. work along the lines of our enemy, six beams striking their targets one after the other and leaving frosted statues in their wake.

Return fire picks up immediately, everyone firing, plasma trails making it look like the air is on fire. The armour of the elite soldiers appears to have something… Some sort of ultra-insulation or a plasma barrier, perhaps? That allows them to survive getting hit. I'm not even sure that the cold beams are making contact.

I see the first of my marines start taking hits. They respond by moving, trying to prevent themselves taking multiple hits in the same point and getting behind cover before their shields fail completely. But there's a lot of fire coming back this way and several go down. Most of those that do won't be getting back up.

"Those weapons of yours are rather effective. Are they of Psion manufacture, or did you bring them from Maltus?"

"No, those were designed on Earth."

"Fascinating." She almost.. purrs it.

"But I'm afraid that they're not for sale. And I'll be taking them back from the Citadelians once we're finished here."

"Oh, is that really necessary? I'll admit to hating the Citadel but they.. die rather well. I could think of dozens of uses I could put them to."

"No shortcuts, Komand'r. If you want nifty technology, get Tamaran reindustrialised faster and develop it yourselves. If you want my aid, I have limits. If you can manage it on your own, good luck to you."

The defenders are down to a fifth of their starting number while ours have taken far fewer casualties. In several places the defenders are wavering and pulling back. Good show. Now, what are-.

The elite guard charge, stowing their plasma weapons and opening fire with integrated positron beam projectors. They cross the intervening plaza at a loping, power armour assisted run, ignoring cold beams as they come. In return their own weapons are.. cutting marines down with worrying regularity. They apparently down shields far faster than plasma. Not.. sure why they weren't using them from the start. They're two thirds of the way across when our units start switching back to plasma and pulling back into the entertainment section, aiming to limit the elite's mobility. And stem the bleeding from the elite's attack.

"Is it time for us to involve ourselves directly?"

"I believe so. Koriand'r?" I glance over to where she's greeting the latest group of former slaves. A couple of Tamaranians are amongst them.

"I would rather remain here-." Her ring dims, and the light she was using to mend their wounds ceases. She looks momentarily shamefaced, then rallies. "I will oversee the evacuation."

"Very well. Komand'r, with me. We need one to interrogate. Kill the rest."

"My pleasure."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:01 GMT

I don't bother shooting cameras as I fly. As soon as we reach our destination whoever's running the defence will know who we are and it just isn't worth the delay to keep them in ignorance for a mere five seconds. The corridors and initial areas of the entertainment sector flash past as Komand'r and I fly through. She's grinning savagely, balls of orange light forming around her hands. I generate a single railgun and load a crumbler round, but I think… The Citadel is a blight on this part of the universe. It's fundamentally incapable of becoming anything else due to the nature of the people who make it up. Yes, I think I'm in the right mental place to use orange light energy pulses instead.

The ring shows me the elite guards advancing into the arcades. Our marines have pulled back further than that and are preparing ambushes. Death amongst the elite from the initial exchange are.. zero. Hm. That's theoretically within the performance thresholds of really good power armour and our marines weren't targeting them specifically… Still, there could be something clever going on.

Ahead, a single elite guard runs down an arcade at full sprint, possibly trying to trigger whatever ambush our marines have prepared. Either that or get behind them. He can see us, but he doesn't stop. He just raises his positron beam slightly before the ball of orange light from Komand'r strikes him in the chest. I slow to observe the eff-

Fzp.

-ect.

The positron beam hits my construct armour in my centre of mass, the beam playing over my chest plate and leaving a pale orange line where it travels. Komand'r's bolt appears to have spent itself against him with no significant effect. The positron beam cuts out as he switches to a one-handed firing posture and draws his plasma weapon. Problematic.

Let's see if mine do any better. I take a moment to muster my loathing, my need for the target to no longer exist. Then I raise my left hand.

"Be not."

A line of orange flashes out from my ring, quick enough that it appears to be instant. I run it left to right, his plasma weapon evaporating and his.. armour… Remaining inviolate. Okay, the plasma weapon is external. It's not covered by the same protection as the rest of the armour…

Praexis Demons, go. Distract and consume the elite guards.

The Demons fly out far faster than normal. Are they eager to get stuck in or is that an effect of my focus? Have to experiment later. Three latch themselves onto our first opponent -to no appreciable effect- and the rest flow around him and into the surrounding corridors. The elite soldier staggers to a stop and tries to bring his positron beam to bear against me once more. I evade, ducking under the beam as it slices a hole through the wall to my left and the ceiling above us. My railgun fires in response, the crumbler hitting a stupid Praexis Demon and evaporating it load a new one! My second shot hits his left leg. No effect. Ring?

Crumbler round was destroyed without making contact.

The elite soldier gets his positron beam into the mouth of one of the Praexis Demons and fires. For a moment the Demon swells, then bursts and evaporates. How-?

Accelerate.

Compliance.

Okay, positron weapons work by firing clouds of carefully contained positrons into solid matter, annihilating electrons as they encounter them. This releases energy and often causes the suddenly positively charged matter to do all sorts of exciting things. It shouldn't do anything to my construct barrier as that isn't comprised of matter. It's the same reason why constructs are immune to cold beams: no matter to still. No electrons to neutralise. So, what? The damage to my construct armour came from energy released when the positrons were exposed to the air? Powerful, if it can tear apart a Praexis Demon faster than they can feed.

But that doesn't explain his armour just ignoring everything. I mean, yes, crumbler rounds can theoretically be stopped by sufficiently lucky point defences as they need to strike a solid surface in order to trigger. No point defences are visible, so..? Active plasma shield? No, those are clearly visible and horribly inefficient outside of a vacuum, Okay, Psions, maybe they've created something with a similar performance profile but without the disadvantages… Wouldn't explain the effect on constructs, but if I assume that's what's happening how do I get through it? A singularity projector might well work, but I need this station more or less intact in order to destroy the fleet outside. And I don't want to risk breaking space-time.

Oh, flipping heck. All that time I spent trying to get the princesses not to use melee weapons…

I take an Nth metal cutlass off my equipment harness and charge.

Mental pathway damage limit reached. Acceleration discontinued.

I roll left as a positron beam comes straight for my face and fire a positron beam of my own back at him. There's a slight shimmer -I was right- but no real damage. Okay, reacts differently to positrons? Nothing on the database about a force field with that performance profile. The soldier twists his hands and two blades of dull blue energy appear, held in a guard position. And I suspect that he knows how to use them rather better than I do.

Of course, the fact that I can't transition doesn't mean that I can't fly really fast.

I jerk back in the air an instant before he slashes with his right sword, my momentum being absorbed by my ring. Next, I yank myself around to his right while his own blade is momentarily out of position. He tries sidestepping to void my attack, but power armour sword dancing is something you need lots of practice to get right and he isn't quite quick enough to prevent my cutlass hitting his right upper arm.

There's a crackling white discharge of energy, then my construct armour dims to prevent me being blinded by the brilliant flash! I back up out of riposte range and wait to see what the result is. It passes a second later, revealing my opponent still functional… Ish. The outer surface of his armour is heavily corroded, his energy blades have died and his positron beam is clearly inoperable. And I can scan h-.

There's a surge of radiation as his positron source loses containment and the anti-electrons inside neutralise every electron they can in a ferocious pulse of radiation. When my construct armour decides that it's safe for me to look again there's.. not much left of this elite soldier and the floor where he once was is pitted, cratered and partly molten. Right then. I was planning on destroying this place anyway.

"That sword, what is it?"

"Nth metal. Usually you'd have to beat up a Thanagarian to get one. I killed the First's bodyguard." I take another out of subspace and float it over to her. "Strike and evade. Work from the periphery. I'll stop their advance."

She takes hold of the sword with her right hand, testing the weight and balance for a moment. "My pleasure." The air buckles as she flies away, her existing construct armour vanishing in a puff of orange and being replaced by a heavier form.

Now, what will I be flying into?

While I've been distracted the elite soldiers have stormed down the arcades, and… Flanked the marine ambushes by charging through the walls they were using for concealment. I can't even definitely identify the marines' former forward positions, there's just.. so little left. I can see a crater where one of the elite appears to have lost containment -weight of fire, perhaps?- but other than that they're all still in action.

I generate a railgun and rapid fire, shooting out all of the walls between me and the closest elite soldier before flying through at maximum speed. The elite soldier is facing away from me, positron beam firing at point blank range at a marine who has already lost his left arm. I slash at his back and fly on past out of the hole which once contained the shop window, slashing again to cut through the plasma gun of the elite soldier there. He drops his gun and goes to ignite his sword, but I've already struck the force field protecting his head. I'm already flying upwards as the first one detonates.

Okay, next-

Fzp fzp fzp.

-target. Three elite in a triangular formation, turning their attention from gunning down my marines as they fall back to take a shot at me. I jerk, jink and finally trigger my armour's phasing system. That gives them a momentary pause as beams pass through me and then I've closed the distance, phasing back in, re-establishing my construct armour and slashing the right arm of the closest with my cutlass.

Next.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:09 GMT

The surviving marines begin forming up once more as I float over to where Komand'r stands admiring the icy statues of the defenders. "I see that you were successful."

She turns towards me, a cruel smile on her face. "It wasn't easy. Once I breached their armour there was such a small window. Then I remembered what you said; that assimilation was the most horrifying thing one being could do to another." She pats her new acquisition on his right cheek. "That simplified matters somewhat."

I nod. The Citadelian Construct Lantern looks badly burned. The process must have finished just as he lost containment. Either that or Komand'r ripped the armour off in a less than delicate manner. His face is blank, impassive. I never thought to find out whether they can.. feel pain like this.

"What do you want me to ask him?"

"We need information on the disposition of other forces on Citadel Complex, any traps the Emperor has for us. Any more novel weapons the Psions have given him. You can compel him to answer easily enough, or call him into your ring. That immediately gives you everything he knows, though it can be somewhat-"

Komand'r holds out her right hand.

"-overwhelm-."

"It isn't working." She frowns. "I'm wanting him into the ring but it isn't happening. What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. It might be something to do with your ring already being a person… Not sure. Just ask him manually."

Her frown graduates to becoming a small scowl, but she nods. "Very well. You, thing. Tell me what your master has planned for us!"

"Nothing. We were his only loyal defence."

Komand'r looks surprised. "This is it?"

"The defence of Citadel Complex is mostly fleet based. There are cargo handlers, civilians and slaves, but we were virtually all that he had in terms of loyal soldiers."

"Not bothered, are you?"

"You might be content to simply achieve our objective. I want blood." She takes a couple of deep breaths, then turns and punches the ice-Citadelian next to her! Shards of armour and meat explode outwards in all directions, raining down across the plaza. That seems to momentarily satisfy her. She turns back and gestures to the enemy wounded with her left hand. "And what of these?"

One of our marines comes forward with his plasma gun in hand and jabs the muzzle at them, grunting interrogatively as he does so.

"No, that would be wasteful. Ring, brand and heal."

Compliance.

Our marines didn't leave all that many alive. Most of those who survived fell in the opening exchange from exploding support weapons. It won't make up what we lost, but I'm sure they'll manage to make themselves usef-.

"What is that?" I turn from my work as Koriand'r flies over the plaza at speed. She's looking at the Construct Citadelian, and she keep looking as she lands and walks closer. "What have you done to him?"

Brand complete.

Komand'r turns away from her sister and walks slowly towards the passageway leading to the next section. "Isn't it clear? You, slave." She reaches back with her right hand and clicks her fingers towards her new acquisition. "What's your name?"

"Grad, mistress."

"Grad, run ahead and see if there are any ambushes set up."

"Yes, mistress."

Brand complete.

I wave my left hand, creating a cutaway image of this part of Citadel Complex. Not far to go-.

"Master, the ships have begun firing on each other. Your orders?"

"Get mobile. Shoot back at anyone who shoots at you, but don't overcommit and don't go anywhere near the stationary defences. The Assailant getting destroyed would be inconvenient."

"As you command, so shall it be."

"Why did you let her do that?"

Koriand'r is looking decidedly unhappy about her sister's acquisition. "Because we need information. Are all of the slaves evac-?"

"So she turns him to orange light? His body denied the peace of death, his mind enslaved and his soul beyond the reach of any afterlife?"

"No, I can finish him off. I'm not sure exactly-."

"And your slaves? Are they aware? Do they..? Suffer in this condition?"

"Yes, they're aware. No, I don't think they actually-" I see Teekl. "-suffer. And the only ones I have… Aside from one who was transformed by someone else, are Demons. Inherently malevolent creatures with no chance of redemption. I am not unaware of the moral issues involved in assimilating someone. I brought them to your attention in the first place. But could we please continue this discussion after we're back on Tamaran?" She looks away, then grudgingly nods. "Right. I think our next stop should be primary power. It's not far from here."

Komand'r looks back and spends a moment considering the diagram. "Why not just push on to command?"

"Because anything they've got left that could hurt us will require huge amounts of power. I don't believe that the Emperor can win, but he might be able to make us lose. I don't care which of his ships he uses the external weapons to shoot but losing the Assailant would make evacuating harder. As would be a scuttling charge that prevents us destroying any surviving fleet elements."

Komand'r shrugs. "Why not both? Take your Demons to the generator while my sister and I lead your marines against command. If this-" She looks around us. "-is all they could muster I doubt whatever they have left will even give us pause."

Hm. She has a point. And I don't want the fight outside to conclude before we finish our work here. Whether those ships would end up being on the Emperor's side or not.

I nod. "Alright." I expand the construct image to show the main teleportation platform to command. "Obviously, you can't use this for your initial attack. But if you force your way inside you can use it to bring in the rest of the marines." They both nod and I turn away from the image towards the assembled marines, now joined by a handful of those who minutes ago were their deadly enemies. "Marines of the Assailant, it is time for the final push! Capture the command centre and kill the Emperor!"

Fists pound the air. "Rahgh!"

"Follow the orders of my subordinates." I generate two large railgun constructs, load crumblers and point them at the ground. It'll be better to make my own passageway than go through an easily predictable route. "I will join you as soon as I have disabled primary power. Fall out!"

"Rahgh!"

I fire my railguns and then fly down the hole, Praexis Demons spreading out before me.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:16 GMT

I lower my railgun slightly. "While I do appreciate you yielding promptly, I am a little surprised."

The wizened Citadelian in front of me shrugs. "I've seen seventeen Emperors come and go. This one wasn't anything special."

I look at the soldiers standing at ease on the other side of primary power's fortifications while their leader negotiates with me. "And.. your detail?"

"One didn't get a clue." He sniffs. "He won't be a problem anymore."

Ruthless, pragmatic… I've really got to see if I can keep this one alive.

"If you've been through this before, I'm sure you know why I'm here."

He nods. "You want to turn off the power to external weapons before the Emperor decides that he's bigger than the Citadel and shoots up the fleet."

A natural assumption. An Admiral carrying out a putsch wouldn't want the fleet crippled. I do, but I was planning on using the more indiscriminate fixed defences rather than Citadel Complex's guns. "I wouldn't mind cutting off the whole command deck actually, but yes."

He nods again. "Sure, we can do that. You want to come oversee things?"

"Naturally."

He turns around, making a small motion with his right hand as he does so. I presume one of the Citadelians behind the barricades presses something, because the force field protecting them deactivates. Then he starts walking towards the entry to the reactor chamber. "Bit of a surprise about the Tamaranians."

"It looked like the whole attack was a surprise."

"Nah. I felt the First's voice in my head-" He points at the visible part of his implants with his right hand. "-stop, same as everyone else. After that it was only a matter of time. Dakyn's smart. He'll be a decent Emperor." He glances back. "Unless you lose."

"I didn't think that the First's existence was common knowledge."

He snorts as the blast doors open and he leads the way towards the power control station. "I revered the First my whole life, but I always thought the whole 'voice of the First' thing was a metaphor. Sure, I got smarter the more implants I got, but that's what they were for, right? Then, boom. You killed him and that.. instinct was gone."

"You seem remarkably calm about it."

"If I'd got dumber, I'd probably be angrier. But as it is, someone who used to be able to control my actions and.. thoughts can't. No Citadelian would accept being controlled like that. Not if they knew what was happening. And as far as I can tell, I'm as smart as ever. Maybe a little more self-interested. Last couple of Emperors I at least made a token fight of it. But, that could just be age."

"You knew that the First died?"

"Heh. Yeah. He spent just enough time here after putting on that ring to tell everyone to watch him. So we did." He smiles at the thought. "I didn't even really believe that he was the First until he died." He starts up the steps to the reactor control platform. "I mean, we all look the same, don't we?"

"So why are Tamaranians being here a surprise? Do challengers usually keep aliens out of it?"

"They're not usually front and centre like this, but we've had aliens involved before. Usually mercenaries. But I haven't seen a Tamaranian warrior since we conquered them. I didn't think they'd side with one Citadelian over another."

"I needed Lanterns, they wanted power rings."

"And you've got some deal with Dakyn so everyone's happy." He doesn't look quite so sure about it. "Reason I ask is, after their attack here failed we made… A few modifications to Citadel Complex. Probably easiest just to show you."

He pulls a lever, and a quiet humming I'd been hearing in the background falls in volume. Not quite silence, but the reduction is quite noticeable. "Power down. When we did a rebuild after the fight with Tamaran I had separate shutdown systems put in. Just so the next guy wouldn't smash the place up to spite the guy he was deposing. Or the other way around."

"You worked here long?"

He pulls another lever and a heavy metal shutter covering what I presume to be a window to the main reactor starts to slide away, golden light shining out. "I'm the oldest Citadelian I know of. I've spent half my life looking after the Citadel Complex. Couldn't tell you exactly how long that was." He turns a knob, then pushes a few more buttons. "Take a look."

Odd, but alright. I float towards the window. The ring has records of most reactor setups that could power a space station like this, so it shouldn't-.

The…

Heck…

A naked, grey haired man surrounded by flickering golden light hangs suspended in… Ring?

Device not recognised. Based on comparison to known Psion technologies, analysis suggests that it may be a telekinesis suppressor.

He's human, or at least close enough that I can't tell the difference. He's suspended in some sort of force field, dangling from where it grips his shoulders. Around him, there's a sort of frame, spherical in outline. The golden energy spiking off him doesn't pass beyond that limit but is drawn into it whenever it intersects. He looks starved, his skin slack and his ribs clearly visible. His eyes are.. slightly open, though he isn't looking in this direction. His face…

"Adam Blake."

"He was a powerful warrior. He covered the Tamaranian fleet's retreat when we defeated them. Unlucky for him the Psions had a few new tricks they wanted to try out." He pauses. "The old Emperor -the one before the one before Damyn- used to come down here and just.. watch him, sometimes. Damyn doesn't care."

"His power… You're running all of Citadel Complex off him?"

"Stops him from going anywhere. We've still got normal reactors, but this guy could rip battleships apart. Anyway, you see the problem. The Tamaranians find out that he's here-."

"Are your conventional reactors still in working order?"

"Yeah, but-."

Bringing him back… Finding their grandparents' bodies was always going to be a long shot, but bringing Captain Comet back… "What would happen if he were released?"

"Ahhh… Just.. shut everything down?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. He was trying to kill us pretty hard last time he was free, and I don't know what being stuck in there for so long has done for his mind. If it was me… Tear Citadel Complex apart in an insane rage, maybe?"

Fair point. And that would make it far harder to destroy the fleet. "Bring the other reactors online and let me inside. When I give the order, slowly deactivate the device keeping him there."

"You.. sure about that..?"

I float over to the armoured door leading into the chamber where Mister Blake is imprisoned. "Yes."

"Because I don't think-."

"Brand."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:22 GMT

"Mister Blake?"

I'm standing outside of the cage, the systems around me now near-silent. The golden energy which old Earth and Tamaranian records show to be the visible effect of his telekinesis is crackling less frequently, though the apparently random spurts are still earthing themselves in the frame. The power is being diverted into capacitors, so if Emperor Damyn had any plans for his defence he better hope he has enough batteries. The device the Psions were using to encourage Mister Blake to lash out lies in pieces on the floor. In the unlikely event that I decide to study it there are backups, but at the moment I'm more concerned with the man himself.

"Mister Blake?"

I can see colours inside him. I can see the shallow rising and falling of his chest. He's alive at least. But I can't scan deeper than his skin. As far as I and the elder Citadelian know everything that would suppress my ring has been turned off, save for the frame and the suspension field. If I can't scan him then he's the one stopping me. A self-protection reflex? Sounds plausible. Ah heck, I wish I'd asked Alan more about him. How his abilities work. Yes, asking him about other superheroes he knew well seemed logical and there was no real reason to go back to a man who he didn't know all that well and who hadn't been on Earth for over fifty years. Still…

"Mister Blake? Are you with us?"

His eyes are blank, lifeless, his pupils pointing at the floor and not tracking anything I wave in his line of sight. So, choice is: leave him and join the princesses, keep trying to get his attention, or remove the cage.

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four to Princess Komand'r."

An image of her head appears above my ring. "Two thousand eight hundred and fourteen what?"

"It's the number of the Sector I come from. Since I can't say my name and since there's more than one Orange Lantern now. Power should be down now. Any trouble?"

"A few traps, clever in nature, foolish in utilisation. A few soldiers, hopelessly outmatched. We should have control of command in minutes. Will you be joining us when we kill the Emperor?"

Branding him.. might be better. I'm confident that my ring can bypass whatever security the Citadel has once I can directly access the components… "Seen any Psions?"

"Not yet. I'm looking forward to that."

"We need their knowledge, Komand'r. Don't do anything rash."

"I do know how to assimilate."

Yes, she does. And I'm sure that gaining the knowledge of a top level evil scientist won't have any negative effect on her mental state at all. Or encourage her in unfortunate directions. "I'll be with you as soon as I can. Two Eight One Four out."

I lower my ring and take an x-ionised knife out of subspace. Okay, let's… Let's assume that he wakes up. What's the thing most likely to encourage him to respond positively -or at least rationally- to my presence. His parents died before he left, his sister Edna died in nineteen sixty one… Shit, he probably doesn't know-. Wait a second. He was born in the thirties. He'd have been a teenager during the Second World War. I could use Alan's voice or a hologram-. No, he's a telepath, that wouldn't work-.

Oh, just get on with it.

I reinforce my environmental shield, add telepathy defence constructs (not enough to keep him out, but strong enough that he probably won't be able to reflexively kill me) and stab the part of the frame closest to me with the knife. Lights go out over a chunk of the frame, so hopefully it isn'turk-urk-urk!

**[Ships drifting in the void as flame flares through holes in their hulls, then goes out as the spilling atmosphere is consumed.]**

I'm slammed back against the wall of the chamber as the frame explodes in a flare of gold-white energy!

**[The first rank accelerates to a sprint as fast as their bulk allows, firing shots at any Citadelian not with us. The second rank advances behind them at a walk and the rear rank uses their power armour to leap up, firing while in the air.]**

Part of the wall melts as the suspension field generator superheats the metal around it and falls out in a pile of slag. Mister Blake grasps his own body in a white/gold aura, his eyes glowing the same colours.

**[Gold/white light around me as my ship accelerates away from Earth.]**

**[Oh shit, opening fire with everything!

"Did you dare think I was not prepared to die for my cause as well?!"]**

Crushing pressure across my body! I'm being held together by my environmental shield, but he can crush harder than I can resist! Why did he have to access that memory?!

**[A living room, Nabu's voice over the radio explaining that the aura keeping the All Star Squadron out of Europe has collapsed.]**

And you couldn't just have been fixated on Diana like every other teenaged boy? I mean, okay, her old costume was a bit frumpy-.

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

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

There were perfectly good reasons why-.

**[Two old style Tamaranian navy vessels fly through space towards the Citadelian ships protecting a convoy of slave transports. The Citadelians fire, their gravity distortion waves being stopped dead by a gold/white energy field.]**

**It's to your credit, but minimising violence and allowing a transition to a more peaceful-.**

**[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."]**

With an effort I force my mind to jump tracks.

**["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."]**

**[King Myand'r greets the returning slaves in person, embracing his daughters before moving on to the others.]**

**Mister Blake, I'm trying to free you!**

**[I nod, getting to my feet. He shifts forward to the edge of his chair and gets his feet directly under him before rising. "I'll see you.. when I.. see you, I suppose."

He nods, holding out his right hand. I step toward him and wrap my arms around his chest. "I'm sorry I couldn't do better."

He puts his arms around my back. "Just don't ever stop trying."]**

"Urff."

Mister Blake lurches slightly in the air, his eyes now directly focusing on me.

**How long?**

**You've been here for about forty years. We're about to capture the control deck and-.**

The pressure around me vanishes and the glow around him intensifies.

**Then this is forty years overdue.**

There's a flare of light, and he's gone.

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
06:25 GMT

The liquefied remains of the ceiling, and.. a circular section of the floor above us and… Quite a few floors above that sloshes down into the containment chamber, splattering against my environmental-. I fly upwards, creating a construct cone over my head to divert as much of it out of the way as possible.

"Komand'r, Koriand'r, incoming Captain Comet!"

"You-?" I can hear the joy in Koriand'r's exclamation.

"He's here."

I shove the slag aside and accelerate, twisting around the tunnels Mister Blake ripped in Citadel Complex before emerging into… A somewhat battered techno-barbarian feasting hall. The broken and torn bodies of Citadelians and Psions litter the room, the main table tossed aside and Mister Blake hovering like a vengeful Angel over the heavy metal throne occupied by the cowering and clearly terrified Emperor Damyn.

**How does it feel!?**

White/gold light envelopes the Citadelian Emperor.

"Nonopleasedon'tnono-!"

His body contracts with a horrible snapping sound, neck pulled into his shoulders and his ribs bending inwards. Another snap and his arms and legs are flattened against the sides of his torso. Another snap and his head is.. similarly flattened, then his.. body sort of.. collapses inwards. The resulting ball of meat is.. maybe fifty centimetres in diameter. Mister Blake stares at it for a moment and then slumps in the air.

I look around at the sound of running feet and see a squad of our marines burst into the room, weapons at the ready. Mister Blake's aura flares again-.

"No! No! They work for me! They're on our side!"

His eyes narrow slightly, then two marines collapse. **Huh. You can control people's minds.**

"… Technically, I rewire their souls. Look, if you saw my memories you know-."

**I'm not exactly a precise instrument at the moment. I wasn't choosing what I saw. But I did see you killing Fate. He was a great hero-.**

"I had perfectly-. I had reasons, and I'll happily explain them in detail once we've finished off the Citadel."

**And how are you planning on doing that? It takes a lot more than killing one Emperor to destroy the Citadel. Hell, I could probably tear this whole space station apart without preventing them from reforming.**

"My plan was to.. use the Emperor to take control of the outer defences and use them against the fleet. Then drop the Citadel Complex itself onto the cloning facilities on the planet below. With no fleet, no way to make new Citadelians and no space station there wouldn't really be anything left." I look at the ball of mushed Emperor. "I'm.. not sure how we're going to do it now. I might be able to bypass the security with my ring, or perhaps the engineers stationed here might be able to rig the controls-."

**I took the information on how to operate them from the Emperor's mind. It shouldn't be too hard.** The glow from his eyes brightens for a moment, and the meat ball flies down his entry hole. A moment later there's a geyser of gore as the meat ball explosively expands. Delightful. **Now, where's-?**

His eyes clear, the aura around his body vanishes and he collapscatching! The construct stretcher appears behind him and turns, bringing him horizontal before he can hit the floor. When was the last time he ate something? I take a flask of nutritional liquid out of subspace and fly over to him. Goodness me.

"Mister Blake, your mind may be willing but your flesh is weak." I attach the flask to the construct and manoeuvre the straw to where he can reach it. "Suck on this, slowly."

**Need to…**

"You can't do anything if you're dead, and it would be stupid if you died now, when the Citadel is about to fall. I'll take us to the control centre and you can tell me-" Koriand'r flies in past the marines, Komand'r close on her heels. "-how to work them."

Koriand'r doesn't quite shove me out of the way as she comes up alongside the stretcher and starts scanning. "He is gravely weakened." She turns her head to glare at me. "Why have you not healed him?"

"Because I don't have enough information on his 'healthy' state-."

"You are the same species-!"

"He's a metahuman! Their bodies can be completely-!"

**I prefer 'mutant'. And I can heal myself perfectly well. I just need more… Raw material.** He turns his head slightly and sucks at the straw for a moment. **Let's get to the control centre.**

Komand'r immediately sends her Construct Lantern down the short corridor to the control centre proper. She gives it a moment and then follows on behind him. I briefly hear the fizzing sound of plasma fire, then nothing. Koriand'r backs up as I float the stretcher and myself after them.

I hear a body collapse. "All clear."

The control centre itself is.. a near identical copy of the bridge of the Assailant. Aside from the corpses. I suppose there's no real reason for the Emperor to spend much time here himself; he can stick up a communication screen anywhere he feels like being. Komand'r is standing in the communications station, prodding at the controls in order to-.

Images of the belligerent parties appear on the screens lining the walls in front of us. A quick glance shows that the Psions have left and the Branx are keeping their distance. Fire appears to be being exchanged between… Four factions? The ones that the Citadelians manning this place thought were loyal are clearly marked, but there's nothing to indicate who the other groups are. I spot the Assailant trying to keep out of the path of the dreadnought as the latter finishes off another battleship. The dreadnought isn't marked as loyal, and I'm going to assume that the Admiral in command thought that he was first in line for the throne.

"Orange Lantern to Assailant. Damyn is dead and we've captured the command section. Get somewhere safe."

"Nicely done, master! Moving to obey!"

Komand'r looks disappointed. "We could have just killed him."

"Yes, we could." Koriand'r looks mildly mollified. "Mister Blake?"

**Exactly what defences am I looking for?**

"Warden stations. They're a sort of light speed shotgun, designed to stop oncoming fleets. They added them to the defence network after your attack on the place."

Komand'r frowns. "Why haven't they used them already?"

"Because they don't want to totally devastate their own fleet. I imagine that the Emperor thought that killing the rival claimants would be enough to restore order. We -on the other hand- actively want to kill as much of it as we can."

Several panels glow with gold/white light. **Okay. Got it. I'm not sure exactly how to target with it.**

"Just get them pointed in roughly the right area. It's a shotgun, not a rifle."

**Okay.**

Quick check that the Assailant is… Hm, directly below the Citadel Complex and hugging the hull. Not completely safe, but Citadel Complex's shields should be able to absorb most of the incoming fire.

"Pull the trigger."

One of the interdiction fields on Tamaran is set up to teleport tiny amounts of dust into the path of any ship trying to reach the planet through conventional acceleration. Since force equals mass times acceleration, the massive acceleration of such a ship means that only tiny amounts of mass are required to create enough force to destroy the ship. The Citadel's warden stations are built around the idea of making it work the other way around: firing tiny particles at near light speeds at ships moving at comparatively low speeds. Normally, firing an imprecise weapon in space is a waste of time but these are designed to throw out so many near-light speed projectiles that they can actually work.

The Citadel ships currently exchanging fire were in a relatively narrow corridor of space, which makes it even easier. One moment they're on screen, and the next?

Gone.

Good.

I nod at the expanding vapour clouds which were once a fleet. "Koriand'r, organise the evacuation. Komand'r, turn Citadel Complex's guns on any remaining enemy ships. I've got a colony drop to arrange."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th July
10:07 GMT

It puts it all in perspective, really. The Citadel Complex is the largest space station in this region of space. It's a good deal larger than the comparatively modest prison station in which the Dominators are probably keeping Vril Dox the Younger. And yet, as it falls to the planet below I can barely-. Ah, there. A mushroom cloud.

Komand'r floats a little closer. "I can scarcely believe that's it."

"What were you expecting?"

She frowns introspectively. "I'm not certain. Perhaps a gruelling war lasting years and costing us dearly. I suppose the only example I have to draw on is Tamaran's last war with the Citadel."

"Sorry to disappoint."

Ring, scan. Mm. Near total devastation. A giant crater where a fortified cloning facility used to be. Where the mountain it was in used to be, come to that. Already the whole area is enshrouded in dust thrown up by the impact and-. There's a flash as one of the capacitors discharges its stored electricity into the air. It won't quite turn it into a nuclear winter down there, but anything that survived the initial impact probably doesn't have all that long to live.

"I'm sure that I'll be able to find enough to keep me occupied. There were a few Tamaranian war veterans amongst the slaves we rescued."

"Don't try to rush them into service immediately."

She doesn't bother replying, instead turning back towards the refugee flotilla. The Assailant is the largest ship, but we've pressed dozens of Citadel Complex landers into service as transport vessels. Since it's us Lanterns who'll be transporting them the fact that they can't go faster than light under their own power is pretty much irrelevant.

Most of the non-refugee population of Citadel Complex scarpered as quickly as they could after the 'we're dropping the station on the planet' alert went out. Some tried rushing the command centre, but they didn't have anything like the elite heavy power armour and as a result were rapidly reduced to a series of frozen statues. Most of the non-Citadelian population made an orderly evacuation. The Citadelian evacuation was… Less orderly. Not enough FTL capable vessels for everyone, though everyone made it out on something. There are a few smaller Citadelian ships hanging around the edge of the system with their FTL drives warm, ready to run if it looks like we're heading their way. They survived the slaughter of their larger comrades by chance, being shielded by larger vessels with fresh shields. I'll leave pickup duty to them, if they choose to carry it out. If they don't? Well, shouldn't have been such arseholes, should they?

My ring blinks.

Answer.

Koriand'r's face appears. "Everyone is prepared to depart."

I nod. "Good. Are you ready?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Good. Komand'r?"

There's a flash of orange as she transitions away. My ring picks her up next to a mile long ex-Citadelian docking cradle. We'll be coming back to loot high value materials later, but I want the most important pieces now. Visibly exerting herself, Komand'r extends an orange aura around the whole thing. And that's why I want to do this now: I could split my focus to defend myself while doing something like that but there's no way either of the princesses could yet.

Right, my turn. I transition to the other largely undamaged cradle, this one complete with a partially complete battleship. Unlike a finished ship full of its crew's desires as well as awkward shields and other devices designed to disrupt enemy action, this is an inert mass. As such, the orange light spreading from me to the entire structure is unopposed. Got a grip..? Yep, I'm not exactly agile like this, but I can carry it.

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four ready."

"Assailant ready, master."

"Koriand'r ready."

"Komand'r, read-ready."

"Set course for my marker on the outskirts of the Liot'r system." I send a location just outside Tamaran's interdiction fields. Komand'r and Koriand'r start glowing brighter and the Assailant powers its drives. "Warp in three, two, one, warp."

The journey takes a good deal longer than it would have without the extra mass. Plus, I decided to limit us to the speed of our slowest member, which in this case is Koriand'r and her refugees. Still, the stars wheel around us as the former seat of the Citadel Empire falls behind us. We should probably see about telling the Omega Men what we did. I don't know what sort of fleet resources Euphorix has, but the main reason they went into hiding was the overwhelming power of the Citadel and that clearly isn't an issue any longer. Of course, there are still the Psions and the Gordanians. While I suspect that the Branx can be persuaded to normalise their civilisation, the Gordanians will take a good deal of work to break out of their unsociable habits. And I rather imagine that the Psions are a lost cause.

"Warp ending in three, two, one."

And there's the universe again. "Orange Lantern to Hawk's Nest. Mission accomplished. Please deactivate interdiction fields so that we can come in-system."

"Hawk's Nest to Orange Lantern. We.. picked up a.. large warp displacement. Are you being pursued?"

"No. We're bringing a large flotilla of refugee ships, two space docks and a Citadelian battleship."

"You-? Ah… Please.. stand by."

"Standing by."

Komand'r's face appears almost immediately on my ring. "What is the delay?"

"The person at the communication station is only authorised to undertake a particular range of activities. Flexibility requires that they get hold of an officer with the authority to be flexible. I imagine that they'll.. rush it, for us."

"Orange Lantern, warp interdiction systems are inactive. You are authorised to approach Tamaran."

"Thank you. We'll be with you shortly. Orange Lantern out."

Komand'r warps immediately, appearing moments later at a Lagrange point in near-Tamaran space. Moving entire docks into orbit is.. something I'm going to leave for a team with tugs and a working understanding of Citadelian computers and thrusters. Next, Koriand'r warps, taking her ships towards the outskirts of Tamarus. There used to be a spaceport there during their pre-space dock era, and the huge concrete launch pad was never completely destroyed. The ships can land there, let their passengers off and then be stripped for parts.

The Assailant warps next. For obvious reasons it's not going to be too close to the planet. I've still got my brand on all of the crew, as well as a few more I picked up on Citadel Complex. I think I'll hand the ship over to Tamaran. See what Amalak can do with the disarmed crew. If he wants them. If he doesn't… I'll try and find somewhere to maroon them.

My turn. Ring, plot course to Lagrange point and execute.

Compliance.

Space distorts for a moment, then… We're here. First part, done. I correct the dock's drift, then let go of it. Ring, location of King Myand'r?

King Myand'r is flying towards the old spaceport.

Good-oh. Transition.

I appear next to him in the air, causing him to stop suddenly in surprise.

"Majesty."

He recovers quickly. "Orange Lantern. I was informed of your return. Are my daughters well?"

"Both uninjured. I'm afraid that your… Family's remains were long since disposed of." He nods sombrely. "On the other hand, we did find someone alive that we didn't expect to."

"Oh? Who?"

Komand'r and guest transition into the air just above us, Mister Blake wearing a copy of his old uniform which I fabricated for him. After a series of nutrient drinks he's capable of moving under his own power, though he said that it will be several weeks before he's anything like fighting fit. Still, he can fly by himself now, and he heads in our direction.

**Mythus. Good to see you again.**

 

[Mr Zoat]

28th July
13:02 GMT

Given the way Karras is grinning, I probably don't need to ask. But it would be polite. "So?"

He glances back to where his parents and the king and queen are making extremely stilted conversation. "The betrothal has been annulled. Koriand'r is free to marry who she chooses. Or not at all."

I nod. I was worried that the royal party might miss the celebratory ball completely, given how long discussions were taking. I was offered the chance to take part, but they seemed to accept my excuse that I regarded it as a 'purely internal matter of Tamaranian governance'. "And your parents are being reasonably reasonable about the whole thing?"

He turns his head away for a moment, his eyes falling on the elder of the royal sisters. "Komand'r.. took them to see the space docks which you acquired from the Citadel. From how they behaved afterwards, it seems that she may perhaps… Hold some lingering resentment over being passed over for political marriage herself."

I take a sip from my glass. I'll let the Tamaranians off fermenting perfectly good fruit; the Citadel and Gordanians between them destroyed too much infrastructure for refrigeration to be common and it hasn't been a focus of their industry since I liberated them. "And your current relationship?"

He smiles faintly. "Taryia and I will both be applying to study at the Tamarus War College… Once it is constructed. While they would be unlikely to consent to my marriage to a junior officer in my own retinue, I… We hope that they will feel differently about a fleet officer."

"Reasonable idea."

"Though… If you should happen to have.. any.. further power rings…"

I bow my head slightly. "Karras, my next stop is to liberate the man I want to run the Orange Lantern Corps from a heavily fortified prison."

"Then surely it would be wise for you to take as many Lanterns with you as you can?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to undermine their future position by establishing a recruitment pattern they may not like. Besides…" I take a look inside him. "Why do you want to become a Lantern?"

"Well, I-. I could do more for Tamaran as a Lantern than as a fleet officer." I raise my eyebrows slightly. "And… As I said, I want to marry Taryia, and… Becoming a Lantern would most likely grant me the prestige that I would need in order to make that happen."

"If you could see your soul right now." He face stills, his eyes widening slightly. "Karras, not only are you not avaricious enough to make a powerful Orange Lantern, the violet light of love is too strong in you for you to be a reliable one."

"I… Would have to give up-?"

"No, that wouldn't work either. Orange Lanterns have to pursue things they genuinely want, not refuse them. Karras, not being appropriate for an orange ring doesn't mean that you have failed some sort of test."

"It feels as if it does. I would not give up Taryia for anything, but I cannot fuel a power ring with love."

Oh. "That's not a bad idea."

"I… Can.. fuel a power ring with love?"

"Not yet, but give me a while to work on the Zamarons and we'll see what we can do." If they haven't moved on to using power rings yet… Maybe we could come to terms?

"I will. Thank-"

"Karras!"

"-you." He looks around as his father waves for him to come over to them. "Excuse me."

"By all means."

I take a step back, looking around at the other guests. Officers and service personnel from the old Tamaranian fleet, accompanied by their families. A few we rescued, both yesterday and from Hny'xx. They look stunned, unable to believe that they're actually back here. A few more who were fortunate enough to survive and live out the intervening period of time on Tamaran. Occasionally I see them glance at their comrades, some with joy. Others with guilt. There have been more than a few joyful reunions since they returned, though I've been too busy to really appreciate it.

I know that King Myand'r wants as many of the old officers as possible to return to active duty, or at least take part in training the next generation. They're going to be working from scratch, after all. Heck, they don't even have a ship design yet, let alone any ships. They're actually letting the Thanagarians get first crack at the empty docking cradle because it's going to be so long until they might be able to make use of it that it makes more sense to let them work on their ship first. It's not an unreasonable demonstration of pride, not wanting to be completely beholden to the Thanagarians for training, but… There have been decades and quite a lot of beatings between now and when many of them were last in service.

Also, there's the fact that they lost…

"Another success." Komand'r strolls out of the shadowy portico behind me. "The Citadel almost totally destroyed. No other power in a position to fill the void they leave behind. Do you really intend to just… Leave?"

"Actually, no." I turn to face her. "I need to ask a favour."

She smiles. "That's a little more familiar. What do you want?"

"In a few days I'm going to attack a Dominator prison. There's a man inside who could be extremely useful to me."

"And you want my help?"

"Not exactly. I would like you to look after another Lantern's Sector while he helps me. He has.. unique skills that will make the break in far easier than it would otherwise be, but he needs someone to do his normal job while he's away."

"Leave.. Vega? Now?" She frowns. "So soon after such a great triumph?"

"You could stay to work on the industrialisation program with your ring. They aren't just weapons, you know. But… I think that… It might be advantageous for you to see a little more of the universe. See a peaceful region of space; see how it works. And learn how interstellar policing by Lantern usually works."

"Do you plan to assign me to somewhere, then?"

I shake my head. "Of course not. Merely to broaden your horizons. And… At least a couple of the worlds in that area of space have advanced medical technology."

There's a momentary spike of irritation. "Do you mean to tell me that you know how to cure my condition?"

I shake my head. "I probably know less about Tamaranian physiology than you do. But Tamaran isn't going to be prioritising recovering advanced medical technology. And I imagine that you want to cure you more than I do."

"Hm." She considers for a moment. "How soon?"

"A few days. I imagine it would be profitable for us to keep making salvage runs for a little while, and I doubt that my target is going anywhere."

"Then I will agree to aid you."

"Thank you."

She eyes me a little curiously. "How many Citadelians do you think that we killed?"

"I'm not sure. Assuming that the ships we destroyed had full crew and marine complements, and that the cloning facility was fully staffed… Somewhere between four hundred thousand and a million? Probably towards the lower end, but I doubt that we'll ever know for certain. Do you need to know?"

"It surprises me, how casual you are about it. I had thought you… Softer."

I shrug. "The ends and the means are one and the same. It's not as if I could destroy the Citadel without killing a lot of Citadelians."

"Then why did you let so many Citadelians flee? The other species I would understand, but if you had resolved to kill so many, why stop?"

"Simple enough. What do you suppose that they'll do now?"

"Try to convince their vassals that they are still strong. Then most likely turn to piracy when they fail."

"And what will you do about that?"

"Destroy them."

"And how will their victims respond to you doing that?"

She frowns. "I imagine that they'll be gratef-." Her eyes widen.

"I intend to have you and your sister act as Sector Lanterns for the Vega Systems, normalising relations between its inhabited planets. And that will be much easier if everyone regards you highly, don't you think?"