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

[Mr Zoat]

Spoiler: Original version

Headhunted

14th August
20:24 GMT

Water vapour has long since stopped rising from Doctor Natu's drink, and given how her cup is tilting in her hands the only reason that it isn't spilling is that she'd already gotten most of the way through. From the expression on her face I think that she's torn between disbelief and horror.

"You.. destroyed an entire civilisation."

I nod. "Clone, no change. No picture. No song. No dance. Always fight. No care hurt. Could destroy. Did."

She shakes her head as if to rouse herself, putting her mug down and making a grasping motion with her right hand. "Okay, I can… In theory, I could see how a clone race might be so similar to each other that there wasn't any deviation in their behaviour. Particularly if their total population was so small. And if the First was just using them as an army and they used slaves for all of their non-combat roles… All the slaves were definitely evacuated?"

"Yes. Checked."

"What about the ones on the planet?"

"Slave no trust." And I checked that too. A large garrison, some Psion technical people and no slaves to throw a wrench in the Citadel Empire's greatest point of vulnerability. "No work."

"Alright. And I suppose it counts as a military target. But all of their fleet that survived… When they were in control, you said that they mostly took the money and left the worlds they controlled to their own devices. Wouldn't they just go on the offensive? I doubt that the other worlds have the same protection as Tamaran if they're used to the Citadel dominating the space lanes."

I nod. It's true, of course. Even with Komand'r having free rein to kill any ships that misbehaved, the surviving Citadel Empire fleet elements were bound to try occupying and raiding to shore up their position. Removing them was the only way to start moving Vega towards being a healthy region of space, but a lot of people will die before we get there. How to put that in a context that doesn't alienate her?

"Tripartite War. Eight million die?"

"It's…" She looks down at her mug, stirring the dregs with a small stick. "It's hard to judge. It depends on exactly when you consider the war to start, and what deaths you consider to have been caused by the war specifically. In reality, the figure should probably be higher."

"Eight official figure?"

"Our.. government.. sometimes likes to play down how bad things were before…"

"Sinestro."

People on three neighbouring tables glance around when they hear me mention his name, tiny flickers of fear in each of them. Not exactly associated with the man himself; he's been gone long enough that they're pretty confident that he's not coming back. The fear is more from the idea of being associated with him, with the potential for social sanction and police action. I wonder if he knows exactly how much fear his memory and name evoke here? I don't know if he's been back since picking up his yellow ring.

Doctor Natu looks around, smiling nervously at the other tables in what I imagine is an attempt to convince them to ignore the ignorant alien. After they return to their own conversations she looks back up at me. "Yes."

"He not rule? More die?"

"That depends on whose version you believe. Probably, yes. In the longer term, with all of the purges..? I don't know. I like to think no one would have actually launched neutron bombs, but…"

"After.. him?"

"The purges were stopped, people were let out of prison. There was violence afterwards, but things.. stabilised pretty quickly."

"Better he not rule?"

"It's impossible to know for certain. I.. don't think it would have been."

"Better he not go?"

"No. Children shouldn't be sent to prison for littering."

"Bad thing go. Situation not perfect."

She nods. "The war was worse, and I can't really think of any other way it could have been stopped. So, what? You're saying that what your mercenaries did was the only way to stop the Citadel?"

Obviously, the version of events I've told her is somewhat edited. No mention of a power ring, and the fighting was conducted with equipment I provided by soldiers I hired rather than mind controlled.

"Before left, told mercenary contact. Work opportunity."

"What's the commission on something like that?"

"Not much." Just making Amalak aware that there may be jobs available really isn't something he pays on. He only does commission if you handle the contract negotiation as well to make sure that there are definite offers of employment. Rashashoon at least isn't going to have to worry much unless there's a concerted attack of a sort I doubt that the surviving Citadelian ships are capable of mounting. The Branx can take care of themselves, as can the Okaarans. And fuck the Psions. "Not job."

"You did all that and it wasn't even what you were hired to do. What did your employers think about you starting a war?"

"Not care."

She sits back slightly, putting down her stirring stick. "They don't care about all the people who died, because it was a long way away and they got the new hires they wanted." She frowns. "Wait, you haven't said what happened when you attacked the prison yet. You killed a million people and you didn't even get the man you were looking for."

"Million… Maybe not."

"Alright. Up to a million. I don't know what to think; I've never met anyone who's killed that many people."

"Tripartite War commanders?"

She shakes her head. "I don't move in those sorts of circles. And I doubt they were quite as.. directly involved as you were. Does this sort of thing happen to you a great deal?"

"No. Perhaps future."

Actually, I rather hope not. I'm heading back to Earth soon -all being well- and if something like that happened on Earth… Alright, Klarion's total death toll might well have been greater… I mean, caused by me. Earth's home, I don't want to be in a position where killing that many people is the right thing to do.

"How did the people you hired to help you react when they found out that you weren't working for the Admiral you told them you were?"

For a moment I hear clearly the wailing sound they made when I removed the brands.

"Not happy. Very not happy."

"I can't imagine…" She shakes her head. "Did the security specialist you were trying to hire agree to work with you after all of that?"

"Yes. Not tell all."

"And if you're here then I assume that the attack on the prison went well?"

"Complicated. First, need example Dominator technology…"

Headhunted

14th August
20:24 GMT

Water vapour has long since stopped rising from Doctor Natu's drink, and given how her cup is tilting in her hands the only reason that it isn't spilling is that she'd already gotten most of they way through. From the expression on her face I think that she's torn between disbelief and horror.

"You.. destroyed a pirate base and killed everyone in it."

Obviously, the version of events I've told her is somewhat edited. No mention of a power ring, and the fighting was conducted with equipment I provided by soldiers I hired rather than mind controlled. And I've rather played down the numbers involved.

I nod. "Clone, no change. No picture. No song. No dance. Always fight. No care hurt. Could destroy. Did."

She shakes her head as if to rouse herself, putting her mug down and making a grasping motion with her right hand. "Okay, I can… In theory, I could see how a group of clones might be so similar to each other that there wasn't any deviation in their behaviour. Particularly if their total population was so small. And if the First was just using them as raiders and they used slaves for all of their non-combat roles… All the slaves were definitely evacuated?"

"Yes. Checked."

"What about the ones on the planet?"

"Slave no trust." And I checked that too. A large garrison, some Psion technical people and no slaves to throw a wrench in the Citadel Empire's greatest point of vulnerability. "No work."

"Alright. I know.. pirates kill a lot of people, so… I suppose that what you did is as near to lawful as places like that get. But if some of their fleet that survived… When they were in control, you said that they mostly took the money and left the settlements they dominated to their own devices. Wouldn't they just go on the offensive? Find somewhere new to set up shop and go back to their old ways?"

I nod. It's true, of course. Even with Komand'r having free rein to kill any ships that misbehaved, the surviving Citadel Empire fleet elements were bound to try occupying and raiding to shore up their position. Removing them was the only way to start moving Vega towards being a healthy region of space, but a lot of people will die before we get there. How to put that in a context that doesn't alienate her?

"Tripartite War. Eight million die?"

"It's…" She looks down at her mug, stirring the dregs with a small stick. "It's hard to judge. It depends on exactly when you consider the war to start, and what deaths you consider to have been caused by the war specifically. In reality, the figure should probably be higher."

"Eight official figure?"

"Our.. government.. sometimes likes to play down how bad things were before…"

"Sinestro."

People on three neighbouring tables glance around when they hear me mention his name, tiny flickers of fear in each of them. Not exactly associated with the man himself; he's been gone long enough that they're pretty confident that he's not coming back. The fear is more from the idea of being associated with him, with the potential for social sanction and police action. I wonder if he knows exactly how much fear his memory and name evoke here? I don't know if he's been back since picking up his yellow ring.

Doctor Natu looks around, smiling nervously at the other tables in what I imagine is an attempt to convince them to ignore the ignorant alien. After they return to their own conversations she looks back up at me. "Yes."

"He not rule? More die?"

"That depends on whose version you believe. Probably, yes. In the longer term, with all of the purges..? I don't know. I like to think no one would have actually launched neutron bombs, but…"

"After.. him?"

"The purges were stopped, people were let out of prison. There was violence afterwards, but things.. stabilised pretty quickly."

"Better he not rule?"

"It's impossible to know for certain. I.. don't think it would have been."

"Better he not go?"

"No." She shakes her head vehemently. "Children shouldn't be sent to prison for littering."

"Bad thing go. Situation not perfect."

She nods. "The war was worse, and I can't really think of any other way it could have been stopped. So, what? You're saying that what your mercenaries did was the only way to stop the Citadel?"

"Before left, told mercenary contact. Work opportunity."

"What's the commission on something like that?"

"Not much." Just making Amalak aware that there may be jobs available really isn't something he pays on. He only does commission if you handle to contract negotiation as well to make sure that there are definite offers of employment. Rashashoon at least isn't going to have to worry much unless there's a concerted attack of a sort I doubt that the surviving Citadelian ships are capable of mounting. The Branx can take care of themselves, as can the Okaarans. And fuck the Psions. "Not job."

"You did all that and it wasn't even what you were hired to do. What did your employers think about that?"

"Not care."

She sits back slightly, putting down her stirring stick. "They don't care about all the people who died, because it was a long way away and they got the new hires they wanted." She frowns. "Wait, you haven't said what happened when you attacked the prison yet. You killed hundreds of people and you didn't even get the man you were looking for. I don't know what to think; I've never met anyone who's killed that many people."

"Tripartite War commanders?"

She shakes her head. "I don't move in those sorts of circles. And I doubt they were quite as.. directly involved as you were. Does this sort of thing happen to you a great deal?"

"No. Perhaps future."

Actually, I rather hope not. I'm heading back to Earth soon -all being well- and if something like that happened on Earth… Alright, Klarion's total death toll might well have been greater… I mean, caused by me. Earth's home, I don't want to be in a position where killing that many people is the right thing to do.

"How did the people you hired to help you react when they found out that you weren't working for the chief you told them you were?"

For a moment I hear clearly the wailing sound they made when I removed the brands.

"Not happy. Very not happy."

"I can't imagine…" She shakes her head. "Did the security specialist you were trying to hire agree to work with you after all of that?"

"Yes. Not tell all."

"And if you're here then I assume that the attack on the prison went well?"

"Complicated. First, need example Dominator technology…"

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th July
10:57 GMT

Amalak looks down from the battlements at the disembarking Citadelians with a wry smile. "I hadn't realised that you did deliveries."

I'm leaving the battleship with the Tamaranians, but since the crew complement is still branded they didn't complain about getting into glorified shipping containers for the journey here. I raised the topic, but leaving them on Tamaran was a non-starter. Myand'r wasn't happy about Citadelians being on his planet at all, Koriand'r wasn't happy about them remaining branded and Komand'r wasn't clear why she couldn't assimilate them all.

Miss Gozzi presses a couple of buttons on her holographic computer interface. "You do understand that the most likely result of this is that we have to kill every single one."

Amalak chuckles. "Why do you think I'm having robots act as escorts rather than living soldiers?"

Komand'r smiles. "Ruthless. You're prepared to gun down every single one."

"Naturally. Not that I want to. That would simply be wasteful. Still, there's a reasonable likelihood that I will need to, so: I prepare."

Koriand'r grimaces. "And you have mechanical soldiers rather than living ones because you think that they would not have the stomach for it."

He tilts his head left and then right. "There are units that wwwould. It's really more that I don't want them to get into the habit of it. Batch killing is something one should only do after careful consideration, not on a whim or because one has convinced oneself that it is standard operating procedure."

The last member of our party is Grad the Construct Lantern, who stands impassively behind his new mistress. Amalak looks back at him with a cocked eyebrow. "A fascinating demonstration of degrees of mind control. Tell me Orange Lantern, are all of your Corps as capable as you, or are you an outlier?"

"To the best of my knowledge, I am the most accomplished Orange Lantern presently active."

Komand'r glances my way, not turning her head away from the spectacle in front of us. "You said yourself that you have a more sophisticated ring than either my sister or myself."

Amalak raises his eyebrows at that. "I wasn't aware that they came in different models. Though I suppose that it makes sense." He turns in my direction. "Tell me; what would I have to do to get a Lantern on my staff?"

"Not asking for a ring for yourself?"

"If that's an option. But from what you've told me, you seem to be rather picky about who joins you."

I return my attention to the landing ground. "Commodore, we have a good working relationship. But let's not get ahead of ourselves."

He shrugs it off. "As you wish."

The last Citadelians out of the hatches turn and close them. They are unarmed and unarmoured, because if this goes badly I don't want them making a fight of it. They disarmed themselves at my request on the pretext that they're going to be getting a span of shore leave. True enough, if they agree to work with Amalak. Otherwise… Robot guns.

I glance left at where Komand'r's eyes are glowing.

Assuming that she doesn't get them all.

Amalak nods to Miss Gozzi, who moves a dial on her controls. The guns in the landing area go live but don't quite point at the recruits. Amalak looks it over and then nods at me. "Whenever you're ready."

I step forwards and flare my environmental shield to get their attention. "Soldiers, formerly of the Citadel!"

"Rahgh!"

The roar from eight hundred throats, the bang as they slam their right fists into their chests in salute. They still think of what we achieved as their victory as well.

"With the Citadel Complex destroyed, this campaign is concluded. After this, those of you who wish to will be working for Commodore Amalak as mercenaries. It is my desire that you accept this offer. Those of you who do not wish to do so will be released on your own recognisance until such time as I need you again. Choose wisely."

I raise my hands and pull the orange light away from them. The brands on their chests just visible though their casual clothing flake off, decaying to orange vapour and flowing towards me. It collects in my hands, then I see it as it flows under my skin towards my ring.

That's a little disturb-.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..!"

A Citadelian towards the front has collapsed to his knees, his arms hugging his chest and a keening wail coming from his mouth. He doesn't use words, he just gives vent to his misery and horror at what I had him do. I look a little closer. Citadelians aren't loyal to the Emperor but they are loyal to the Citadel Empire. It was the bedrock of their existence and I destroyed it. With that certainty gone he… No, they all, feel completely desolate. Some instinctively reach for weapons they're not carrying, others bow their heads and start hyperventilating.

Amalak regards the scene levelly. "They seem to be taking the news about as well as could be expected."

Komand'r smiles broadly. "Tonight, before I sleep, I will play a recording of this moment. And I will sleep all the more soundly for it."

Koriand'r dips her eyes. "It would have been kinder to kill them."

I don't think that the moaning is even intentional. I hope that their minds aren't literally locking up. That would-.

"You!" Captain Gralg shoves his way through the unresisting crowd. "You made us destroy the-!" His mouth locks up and the rest of his face spasms and shakes. "Everything! Everything! You told us to do it and-!" He's crying, his hands going to his face and pulling, leaving thin cuts where his nails dig into his skin. "And we.. just..!"

I take a moment to search out the older Citadelian who was in charge of power generation. He's near the back and he appears to be keeping himself together a little better than the rest. Though that could simply be as a result of not being involved until right at the end. For a moment he makes eye contact with me, then takes in the guns around them. Then he turns away and shoves his way through the crowd to get into cover.

"Yes, you did. And yes, I did. And let's not pretend that the Citadel Empire hadn't done the same thing to anyone who got on its bad side. Do not expect me to feel even the slightest bit sorry." Komand'r nods approvingly. "But you still have the choice. Any of you who enter Amalak's service will be given work and shelter. Any of you who want revenge? I'm right here."

There's a moment where the Citadelians take a moment to look at their neighbours, perhaps trying to gauge their mood. One or two fall to the ground. Then the rest-

"RAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!"

-charge towards the tower.

Amalak blows air out through his lips. "Well, we got a few." The robot turrets go live, orientate themselves on the charging horde and open fire. "And their equipment. Definitely a profitable day." Bolts of plasma strike the Citadelian mob, and unlike when they wore armour every hit is fatal. Chunks of meat vaporise, the flesh heating up so fast that it seems to explode, sending their corpses slamming into their comrades.

None of them take a blind bit of notice in their headlong rush.

Right into the tower's force field.

I keep watching as the robot guns shoot them in the backs, whittling the eight hundred down swiftly and steadily. Every hit is almost immediately fatal and no amount of punching is going to do damage worth talking about to the force field blocking their onslaught.

It takes a little over a minute for the last of them to die, then another set of robots moves in to remove the bodies.

Of the whole lot who worked for me during the assault on the Citadel Complex only eleven remain.

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th July
08:14 GMT -6

Jean falls back as I walk into the command suite. Doctor Robbins is sitting at the main monitor station, her chin resting on her right hand and a large mug of coffee held in her left. Trying to be at least a little subtle about it, I take a quick look around to see if I can spot-.

"There aren't any."

I guess that subtle is for people who aren't two meters tall.

I cross the room, walking steadily around to the front of her station so that she can look at me without turning away from whatever it is that she's working on. "Jean said that you wanted to see me."

"What, you not going to scan me as well?"

I turn my head to look her in the eyes. She doesn't look angry, exactly. The accusation has little bite to it. "I'm concerned. I feel a little odd about saying this, but if you-?"

"I'm over it. Liquor isn't a long term solution."

I smile. "I'm glad to hear it. I understand that having an enemy attack you in your home-."

"That's not exactly a first for me."

I hold up my hands in a pacifying motion. "I mean no disrespect to the Challengers, but Darkseid is rather in a league of his own." I take a look around for somewhere to sit down, but there isn't anything. This is the most Challengery room left in the place. I've barely come in here since we renovated. "And then there's the fact that there's not a lot we could do if he decided to do it again-."

"That's not it." She lifts her head off her hand and takes a mouthful of coffee. I decide to let her get whatever it is off her chest at her own speed. She swallows, then sighs. "With the Challengers… Looking back, I guess it looks like we thought we couldn't die or something. That wasn't really it. Even before Red died we all knew every mission could be our last. Heck… That was kinda why we did it. For the thrill."

I nod. Not.. one of my motivations. For me it's about doing something I want to do, the easier the better. But her point of view isn't exactly uncommon. I seem to remember that there was a Star Trek Voyager episode in which the Doctor commented that the Maquis members of the crew tended to exhibit a greater preference for risk taking behaviour than their more staid Federation comrades. I wonder if it's the same for superheroes?

"And ever since you saved me from being the first Challenger to die in her bed, I've pretty much just been sitting around the Mountain and getting in the way."

"Doctor Robbins, your experience makes you a valuable member-."

"I'm a babysitter." She glances at a monitor to her right, showing.. Chester's current location. "And I'm not just talking about Lynne and those Bat kid things. A college sci-fi nerd could do my job. And like it better."

I nod. I suppose -given how much of an adrenaline junkie she was- expecting her to be happy doing this indefinitely was a poor judgement on my part. "If you'd like some time off-."

"I'm quitting." She stares at me as if daring me to protest. "Talbot can wrangle the Blacks and Jean can do the rest of this job just fine."

Ring.

By your command.

"I've transferred the next five years' rent to your account. I'm afraid I'll have to remove your access to our systems once you leave, but if you need anything just let me know." She looks momentarily nonplussed as I take a couple of steps closer. "I really appreciate you staying on as long as you have, and letting us set up in your old home. Thank you." I hold out my right hand to her, sticking it through the centre screen. "Send us a postcard when you get to wherever you're going."

"Huh." She stands, and clasps my right hand with hers. "I will. I thought you'd make a bigger deal out of this."

I shrug. "I'm not really the 'chaining to the desk' sort. You've clearly given it some thought and.. made up your mind. It's your life. Live it as you see fit." I reclaim my hand and make a vague gesture with it. "Let me know when you leave, I'll come and see you off."

She studies my face for a moment longer, then picks up her coffee, turns and leaves.

Hm.

A few.. possible replacements come to mind. I'm not sure that the tentative understanding Nyssa Raatko and I have would really bear giving her the job, but I finally managed to track down Scandal Savage -the name was a bust but her weapon is distinctive- a few weeks ago and I think it would be right up her alley. Probably need to talk to her about her father's businesses anyway. She's technically his beneficiary, but since he ran them from the shadows and only intended her to ever take charge for short periods of time there's no real rush. Despite believing himself immortal he always ran the risk of dying off-planet or inside a large carnivore and he appears to have considered her an acceptable temporary executor.

Still, no rush.

Jean enters the room with a politely deferential air about her. "Sir?"

"Doctor Robbins will be leaving us shortly. If you have any plans to go haring off to South America in search of your primogenitor, I would appreciate you putting them on hold."

"We have decided that there is little reason to hurry. Given the likely date of our forebear's arrival, anything that remains will likely remain for some time yet. Would you like me to assign a G-Troll to take Doctor Robbins' place?"

I nod half-heartedly as I walk past her. "Do as you think best." The system can back up anything the Blacks discover pretty much automatically and they can always contact me directly in the event of an emergency. I.. suppose.. compared to most of the people working for me now I was underemploying her. Maybe I should have.. put her in charge of the extinct species resurrection program..? No, that wouldn't have been any more her thing than watching other people do what she used to do.

I'm going to miss her being around.

"So." Michael Tawny walks down the corridor towards me. Still not entirely used to him looking like that. "I understand that the good Doctor will be leaving us."

I nod. "Indeed. Actually, Michael-."

"I don't have any plans to follow her, if that's what you're about to ask."

I smile. "I'm glad to hear it. But… I'm aware that I haven't been fully utilising your abilities. I'd hate for you to become discontent."

He rotates his head slightly to the right, then gives it a wiggle. "I'll let you know. But at the present time, I feel perfectly happy acting as Lynne's bodyguard. I rather like the children at the school."

I nod, then lean forwards and lightly nuzzle him. He exhales sharply though his nose, then returns the gesture. Adult male Tigers aren't usually social with one another, and I'm rather glad that Michael feels differently.

He pulls back slightly, sniffing me. "But what about you? You said that you were nearly back to full fitness..?"

"As full as I can get with the Anti-Life fragment inside me. But-" I nod. "-yes."

"So? Who's your next target? Will you focus your energies on the British government? Some other criminal group? I've never eaten a Kobra."

"Nnnnno." I raise my left hand slightly, examining the orange ring. "I.. think it's about time that I resolved matters with Larfleeze and the Orange Central Power Battery. An army of Lanterns very nearly managed to kill Father with no other assistance-"

"Ping!"

"-and… Even if he has become more powerful since then, that would seem to be a very useful leg up."

"Didn't you once tell me that orange rings can drive people mad?"

"Which would necessitate a trip to Maltus-"

"Or Qward."

"-to-. No, I'm not going to Qward. Our Qward probably isn't even your Qward. A Controller would be far less of a risk."

"The Controllers would insist on controlling-."

"They can insist all they want. Larfleeze's cave has hundreds of rings, and Vega has plenty of Green Lantern-free room to expand. I need exactly one Controller to assist me running things. The rest can go hang." I exhale. "But before I go and do that, I really do need to get back in touch with my friends on the team."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
10:57 GMT

Lantern Medphyll looks… I think that's 'dubiously', at Komand'r. She in turn stares imperiously back, while Koriand'r is having trouble not staring at our surroundings in wonderment.

"Lantern Komand'r, how long have you worn that ring?"

"Eleven days."

He blinks. "Orange-. Lantern Paul, there are Green Lantern recruits who do not even begin their training within that time span. Raw recruits cannot safely stand in for me for any length of time."

"I have been trained by the Warlords of Okaara since I was eight years old. I am perfectly capable-!"

"Lantern Komand'r." She cuts herself off. "Lantern Medphyll, you won't be away for a significant period of time. They will literally be here to guard against outright invasion only. And while I agree that they will need a much broader range of skills before they can serve as true Sector Lanterns, the attack on Citadel Complex demonstrated that they are both capable of fighting warships and infantry. If they encounter a matter which requires investigative or diplomatic skills beyond what they possess, they can send a message to me and I can pass it on to you."

"And if I were to die?"

"Then I will remain here in your stead until your partner has completed their training program."

"Your files on my Sector are most likely over a year out of date. And while this act of sophistry may escape the Guardians' notice, I cannot pass Green Lantern Corps files to you."

Hm. "I would only need your files if you died, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Green Lantern Corps regulations allow Lanterns to make a physical backup of data on ongoing investigations, so that local law enforcement can find out what happened without having to wait for another Lantern to arrive. You'd be breaking the rules if I actually did access it, but since you'd be dead that wouldn't really be a problem. Just show me how to access a similar data medium and we're fine."

"I… Am.. still not happy about this."

"And the Dominators' prisoners aren't happy about being vivisected. There's a lot of unhappiness going around."

"If the Guardians asked me, I would know full well that the rule in question had simply not been updated to take your existence into account."

"Lantern Medphyll, the way the rule is worded you could hand your Sector over to an Anti-Green Lantern so long as they were 'in good standing'. Lantern Jordan destroyed the Anti-Green Lantern Central Power Battery seven years ago. At this point, if the Guardians still haven't updated the rules… It's kind of their fault."

"I doubt that the Guardians would see it-."

Komand'r loses patience. "If you are so concerned about our abilities, why not test us yourself."

"Because such a test would most likely leave us both injured and unable to fulfil our responsibilities. To say nothing of the damage that our surroundings would suffer."

"Then what? What would satisfy you?"

Medphyll's fronds wiggle as he tries to come up with an answer. "I… Don't know. I think… That I may have started to petrify. Your reasoning is sound and yet am I reluctant to bend with the wind. I had been… Considering retirement."

"Why? Medphyll, the strongest Lantern I ever met was Larfleeze. He lived billions of years and all he had to show for it was a cave. Not every Lantern can be the greatest fighter, but your comportment has been an inspiration to me. You are the best example I know of how a Lantern should behave. And ultimately, if you don't think that assisting me is the correct thing to do, I have every confidence that you'll make that decision for the right reasons. I'll… Just have to find someone else."

He closes his eye for a moment, and.. something..? A ripple passes through the nearby plant life as his environmental shield shimmers. "I have become too comfortable in my certainties. I would suggest a compromise."

"Okay?"

"You want me to manipulate the Dominators' plant-based computer systems. While I could try learning to do so from the general vicinity of the prison itself, it would be far more sensible for me to learn from existing examples before we make our attack."

I nod. "True."

"Find me alien plant technology to study. While you search, I will take your Orange Lanterns on a tour of my Sector. That will give me time to learn how they think, and give them a chance to allay my fears."

Dominion space on my own. Hooray. "That sounds reasonable to me. Princess? Princess?"

Komand'r restrains herself from making the comment that I'm sure she would like to. "Agreed."

Koriand'r smiles. "I would be delighted to study peacekeeping under a veteran Green Lantern."

"Then it sounds like we've come to terms. What exactly do you need me to get?"

"Ideally, a direct copy of the system that you want me to alter. Failing that, almost any example of alien plant computers would help. I have seldom had cause to leave my Sector to travel anywhere but Oa, and as such I have had little contact with alien approaches to plant technology."

Okay… There are people who have fought the Dominators before. They'll probably have… Some stuff I can negotiate for. "Very well. I'll let you know when I have something."

"May O watch over you."

I rise up through the tree-streets, half an eye on Medphyll as he generates a construct globe and begins his lesson. Okay. Let's start with something simple. Ring, alien species who use plant technology.

Planets on record as using plant-based technology: Floria, J, Alstair, Simballi and Earth. List of further planets which use plant technology in very limited ways or use life forms similar to but distinct from conventional definition of 'plant', available.

Alstair. Where Queen Hyathis reigns. That sounds like a sensible place to start. Set course for Tamaran. I need to speak to Commander Andar.

Compliance.

And tell me about the place.

Alstair is one of four inhabited planets in the Antares binary system. It orbits Antares B and has a year of approximately four hundred days. The primary sentient inhabitants are Zaredians, and the only significant minority are Thanagarians. Other species are resident only as prisoners of war. Alstair is thaumically active, with plant-related magic use being common amongst its inhabitants. Its ruler is Queen Hyathis, who operates a near-absolute monarchy.

Are they at war?

Alstair is presently at war with its neighbours Dhor, Mosteel and Llarr, as well as Thanagar.

Dhor, I've heard of. That's where Kanjar Ro comes from.

It is likely that had his attempt to abduct the Justice League been successful he would have used them to defeat the other worlds. None have had peaceful relations with one another in recorded history, hostilities beginning at the time of first contact.

Alright, warp. Fill me in on their social structure as we go.

Compliance.

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
11:34 GMT

Commander Andar looks up from his lectern-mounted computer with a smile as his equerry shows me into his office. "Orange Lantern. Or should I say, Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four?"

"It's a bit of a mouthful."

Perhaps due to how their wings would get in the way, Thanagarians aren't all that big on chairs. I remember that Mister Hol's laboratory on the Watchtower was largely designed at a convenient height for someone standing. Commander Andar's office has a small cluster of what are clearly Tamaranian seats (the clue is the higher backs) but Thanagarian meetings are generally conducted standing, the participants looking one another directly in the face. It's not quite the aggressive gesture it is for Humans, but it's still mildly confrontational.

"Properly speaking, the correct way to address a Lantern is formally, using Lantern as their title or name-prefix."

He frowns. "Do you have some superstition about giving people your name?"

"My world is thaumically active. It isn't a superstition if they actually can curse you if they have your true name." I shake my head. "But no. I have -by mechanisms which defy my analysis- been rendered incapable of saying my own name."

His eyes narrow slightly, unsure whether I'm making some sort of incomprehensible alien joke. I take a name card out of subspace and-. He won't understand English. Ah, ring, best fit that word I can't think too loudly to Plekesh grammatical rules, then rewrite.

Compliance.

He takes a moment to read it. "Lantern Pol?"

"Close enough. It's my personal name, but the closest I've been able to get to my surname is 'candle dipper'. And I'm.. not prepared to take that step yet."

He hesitates again, but appears to decide to just go with it. "What can I do for you?"

"Having any trouble with the new equipment?"

"No, not at all. The industrial asteroid smelters should enable us to finish getting the Hawk's Nest up to specification in a few weeks. Upgrades to the battleship Assailant will take a few weeks longer, even with a space dock specifically designed for it. The second ship will take over a local year to complete, assuming the Tamaranians don't want us to scrap it for one of their own design. The next bottleneck will be the lack of trained personnel, and I doubt that there's much you can do to help with that."

Since they don't have to pay a tithe to the Gordanians any longer Tamaran can well afford the Thanagarians' presence. But they probably couldn't afford to pay a significant number of skilled alien workers, and by the time that situation changes enough of their own people should have completed training that they won't need them. I could hire people myself, but the aim of the exercise is an independent Tamaran, not a dependent one. I'm certainly not willing to assimilate or brand people because it would be useful. And… They're not likely to get hard pressed anytime soon…

"King Myand'r told me what happened with the Citadelians you had working for you." I nod. "I know it's not easy, killing people you fought beside. But unless you were prepared to maintain control of their minds permanently it's probably the best result you could have got. Do you know how many survived?"

"Eleven."

"Citadelians being what they are, it was probably inevitable."

"I.. appreciate you saying that." I suppose that it shouldn't have surprised me. I had thought that a few of the augmented ones at least might have the sense… But I can't say it particularly bothers me. If they can't overcome their programming then there wasn't anything between them and the half-million or so we killed destroying the fleet. "But the reason I'm here, is that I'm heading to Alstair next and I'm sort of hoping that you could write me a letter of introduction, or… Whatever the normal diplomatic practice on Alstair is. I've already offered to take any messages you have to relay, but if you've got anything that can't go via Thanagar I can take that as well."

"Why are you going to Alstair?"

"A Green Lantern I'm working with wants to look at some examples of alien plant-based technology. We don't.. use that sort of thing much on Earth, and since I already know people from Alstair it seemed like the sensible option."

"What exactly is this Green Lantern planning on doing with it?"

"He has a natural ability to manipulate plant life, and we want to make sure it works on advanced alien plantforms before we go after the Dominators."

"Does he do that with his power ring or by magic?"

"I think his ring helps, but it's mostly by magic." Commander Andar relaxes slightly. "Why?"

"The last Green Lantern to intervene in Antares system gave up after being fired upon by all four navies. For a moment I was concerned that they were planning a more forceful intervention. That, and the fact that Alstair's native population use similar techniques themselves. I doubt that he'll learn to do anything that they can't defend themselves against."

Worth knowing. Maybe someone there will want to compare notes? "Heck, after Kanjar Ro went after the Justice League, it wouldn't be Alstair I'd be helping them go after. Not that I'm planning any sort of intervention unless there's a really good opportunity."

"I think that would be for the best. With Kanjar Ro deposed, the war died back a little. I'd prefer it not to pick up again."

I nod. "How exactly did Queen Hyathis come into contact with Thanagar? I've only read the Green Lantern Corps' summary on the subject."

"I'm afraid that with all of the data purges carried out by the Lord High Equaliser there's little I can tell you about his arrival. Even today, all we really know about him is that he was a male Polaran. We don't even know his name, though since his remains showed the same signs of infection as the Thanagarian population it's possible that he didn't know himself."

"And the Lizarkons?"

"They were infected too. And since you're about to ask, I am aware of the flaws which Thanagarian society has developed since then. My forebears left with Hyathis. The.. apartheid happened after that."

"I wouldn't blame a single individual for the wrongs of their entire civilisation anyway."

He nods. "Before the Equalisation Plague, we were a technologically sophisticated and.. somewhat isolationist civilisation. During it, we were… Meat robots, doing whatever we were told. The Lord High Equaliser was in complete control of everything, no one could even think differently from anyone else. And whatever his priorities were, they didn't include… Childcare, education, leisure pursuits or anything beyond utilitarian efficiency. Ships from Alstair regularly explore space, looking for technology to purchase or allies who might be persuaded to aid them against their enemies. When they found Thanagar, they reported the state of affairs to Queen Hyathis who decided to visit in person. She led the strike force which killed the Lord High Equaliser, then offered to cure the plague. In return, the Lord High Equaliser's immediate subordinates agreed to recognise her as Empress."

"Before she cured them?"

"No, she cured them first as a demonstration." He shuffles his wings slightly. "Anyway, that was where the Loyalists like me and the Nationalists like those who rule Thanagar today disagree. They say that she extorted an oath of fidelity under duress from people who didn't have the power to give it on behalf of the rest of our civilisation. I say, she killed a tyrant and cured our civilisation of a disease that stripped us of our personhood. And she never treated us in a way that was dishonourable; we were equal before the law to the citizens of her homeworld."

"How did she get deposed?"

"People were getting used to individuality again. Most of them remembered a time before the Plague, but it made everything so confused that it was hard to adapt. Having been attacked by an alien and then expected to follow the orders of another… There were a lot of people who didn't like it." I nod. Stupid, but people are people wherever you go. "So, six years later when Queen Hyathis took a fleet filled full of her most loyal officers and soldiers back to the Antares system... They carried out a coup. Every Zaredian left on Thanagar was brutally murdered and the remaining fleet and planetary defence network was seized by the Nationalists. The government that came to power then is effectively the same one that rules now."

"And Thanagar's tendency towards expansionism?"

"Their slogan is 'Never Again'. I don't know what the Queen would do next if she actually managed to conquer Antares, but that's a four way fight between evenly matched factions. There isn't anywhere near Thanagar that's actually a threat to them, so the level of aggression they're showing is completely unwarranted. My greatest worry is that they're going to go after Antares eventually."

"Or Earth."

He nods, then turns away. "I'll draft you that official introduction."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
18:16 GMT

That's a big star.

I know that Antares Scorpii is a supergiant star, but stars in general are so big that the idea of a slightly bigger version doesn't really mean much to the Human brain. Even hanging here in space looking at it, it's a glowing blob a long way away. Even having the ring tell me that it has a radius 883 times that of Sol and that if it were in Sol's place its outer surface would be past Mars didn't have much impact until I got curious and generated a construct model.

It's really big.

Heck, Antares B isn't small. It has 10 times the mass of Sol, as opposed to 18 times the mass as Antares Scorpii has.

As a result of having two stars and a.. really quite pretty band of particles linking the two and reflecting their light, the worlds of the Antares system don't get much in the way of night. Alstair orbits a very long way away from either star, and as a result has a range of temperature that a Human -or a Thanagarian- would find comfortable. Llarr is further in and noticeably warmer, a fact that its cold blooded inhabitants have evolved to take full advantage of.

Incoming communication.

Answer.

"This is the Dhor Stellar Armada. Identify yourself."

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four. From Earth."

"One.. moment."

I think someone remembers what happened last time they met a Human. I wonder if Kanjar Ro managed to cling to power after getting his arse handed to him by Kal-El?

"This region is under dispute. Please conclude your business quickly. Dhor Stellar Armada out."

Hm.

The two inner worlds are stranger. The population of Dhor live almost entirely underground, their world's core cold and still while its surface is bathed in solar radiation. In the case of Mosteel it's the people who are the oddity, their whole physiology designed to be able to operate at extreme temperatures and their silvery skin reflecting as much incoming energy as it can manage. It was their attempt to settle the surface of Dhor that persuaded the Dhorians to take an interest in things going on outside their settlements.

Unfortunately, they didn't much like it.

Incoming communication.

This is going to happen a lot, isn't it?

Challenging visitors to disputed regions is-.

Yes yes. Answer.

"Mosteel Command. Identify."

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four."

"Purpose of visit."

"I'm visiting Alstair to-."

"Kill yourself now to save yourself from the pain of death upon our guns."

I take a moment to look around my environment. No, their fleet still appears to be in a defensive posture quite a way away from me.

"I'll take that under advisement."

…

No, they're gone.

There are lots of very small bits of spaceship littering the system, but beyond the four inhabited planets and the dust cloud not much else. Given the mass of the stars it's a minor miracle that four rocky worlds managed to establish stable orbits, and I'm not surprised that gas giants either failed to form or were absorbed by the young stars. I'm a little surprised that they've already gone through all of their asteroids, but I suppose that four space aged civilisations burn through a lot of resources. Particularly if they're constantly building and destroying war fleets.

Incoming communication.

Is it Alstair?

No.

Put them through.

Compliance.

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four responding. What can I do for Llarr?"

"State business."

"Purchasing computer equipment from Alstair."

"Llarr make better."

"Do you make it better with plants?"

"Plants weak."

"You want anything else?"

"Keep visit short. Do not interfere. Will punish violation."

"Orange Lantern out."

I pass Llarr's orbit, heading for Alstair. Alstair has a couple of… I'm not sure that I'd call them moons, exactly. Clusters of asteroids held together by space plants that are kept in orbit. Reminds me a little uncomfortably of the bad guys from Wheeled Warriors. While there are areas of natural plant life on Alstair, plant-based industry looks quite a lot like the mechanical kind. The locals are just better at cleaning up after themselves, consciously designing and manipulating plant microbes to purify the soil and air. It might be worth trying to bring Euanthe here, actually. I mean, if she can survive a journey like this. I know that there are microbes that can eat oil spills, and if they can be consciously controlled that could prove to be a major boon in areas on contaminated soil.

Okay… Capital city should be about there… Bit odd that no one has tried to contact me yet-.

Incoming communication.

Ah. Good oh. Answer.

Compliance.

"State your business, Lantern."

Ring, what language?

Plekesh.

Curious. "Secure communiqué from Commander Fel Andar of the Blades of Alstair. Also, numerous personal missives from his company. I would also like to purchase some equipment."

"The Blades? Do you have his seal?"

"Yep." I take the small emblem out of subspace. "Can you see it from wherever you are, or do you want me to-?"

"Our druids can sense it now. You are cleared to proceed to the capital. An escort will join you shortly. Accompany them and there won't be any trouble."

"As you wish. Orange Lantern out."

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
18:47 GMT

Alstair is noticeably more… Jungly than J was. The palace appears to be part tree village and part… I suppose the nearest thing I've seen is Swamp Thing's home. It's clearly plant, even if the ring weren't confirming that it certainly looks plant. But it's… No, that's what I'm thinking of. There was a bit in Swamp Thing where -shorn of Alec Holland's guiding intelligence, Swamp Thing visited the green and found that thanks to Tefé's influence- it had become populated by plant spirits mimicking Human civilisation. Plant cars, plant telegraphy wire, plant buildings and roads… J was like that, normal with a plant theme pasted over the top.

This isn't.

The people I've seen so far look kind of Dryad-like. Maybe a bit more like Euanthe was when I first found her, with the plant aspect being far less subtle than I've become accustomed to. The hair isn't kind of a bit reed-like or mossy, their heads sprout leaves or petals and are clearly shaped with that in mind. Their bodies likewise sprout bark and leaves as a person-shaped plant would and not as the sort of clothing-substitute that Euanthe wears.

**Thinking of someone else?**

I stop in the air.

**To whom am I speaking?**

**Such clarity of thought. You've done this before.**

**One of my closest friends is a telepath, as is her entire species.** The mental tone is feminine, imperious… **Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Queen Hyathis?**

**My actual title is Panala. But yes, I am she.**

**And what does 'Panala' mean?**

**You could translate it a few ways. 'Incarnate goddess of the living planet' is my favourite. Or if you were really sent by Commander Andar-** I feel her try and push a little into my mind. Nothing like as strongly as I'm trained to resist, even without construct assistance. **-then you can call me Empress.**

**You're not a goddess and you don't rule Thanagar, so why don't I call you 'Queen'?**

**Oh, you are interesting. Does your species not have any plant matter in their bodies naturally? Did you expunge it before coming here?**

**No, my species consumes plant matter and has symbiotic fungi in our digestive tract and on our skin. Why do you ask?**

**I should be able to feel it. But I can't. Perhaps you are simply too alien a creature.** Thank you, wards. **Your escort will be with you in a moment. I've decided to give you an immediate audience.**

I look down-. Ah. Four Thanagarians breach the canopy and beat their wings hard to gain height, heading towards me.

**Thank you, your majesty.**

**'Majesty'? I.. think I like that. Is that what you call your queen?**

**It's a standard mode of address, but… Yes, I refer to Queen Hippolyta as 'Your Majesty'.**

**Oh? And can she do this?**

Beneath me miles of forest canopy roils, boughs and leaves turning to.. form a face.

**Her father is our people's war god, so I doubt that plants are really her thing. I think you met her daughter, actually.**

**Oh?**

**Black haired Human woman with a golden lasso? I think she-.**

**Yes.** The mental tone is far less chirpy. **I remember her.**

Her presence vanishes from my mind. Hyathis may have been under the influence of the Gamma Gong at the time, but she was still giving the fight her all. I'm sure that she prefers being beaten by Diana and freed of the Gong's influence to being enslaved, but…

"Ho, Lantern!" The lead Thanagarian slows and adopts a more vertical position, raising his right hand to hail me. "We are to take you to the Queen!"

"Lead on."

He makes a motion with his left hand and two Thanagarians peel off, swooping back towards the palace structure. I suppose that's my cue. I shut down my flight aura, turning in the air to face the palace structure as I fall. I swiftly accelerate to terminal velocity, shooting past the Thanagarians as the palace gets larger and larger. The Thanagarians respond by tucking in their wings and diving after me. Okay, I've… Got no idea where I'm going. I slow, still facing the palace, and allow my escort to catch up. The leader pulls ahead of me and then bears off to the right. A second Thanagarian passes ahead of me and then I accelerate after them. I do this without changing my orientation; still facing down and still watching the city below me. I wonder if-. Ah! A different type of Zaredian, this one thin with grey-orange skin and thin white hyphae in place of leaves. Fungus Dryads? Are those a thing?

"Just here."

The leader points to a.. series of giant lily pads floating on a large pool which is in turn held above the forest floor, contained in a huge bowl of living wood. Flowers bloom all around a living pathway across the water. It's.. almost a shame that Swamp Thing generally limits himself to naturally occurring forms. This is…

As we touch down I'm smiling like an idiot and really not paying all that much attention to where I'm going at all. The pad gives slightly under my weight, but it appears able to support it. Not that I'm wearing full power armour for a visit to a nominally friendly state.

"This way."

The Thanagarians start out across the lily pad path and I -with slight trepidation- follow along with them. Let's see, if these are like Earth lily pads then the stem would be in the centre… The edges of the path part slightly overlap one another and it seems to be supporting the Thanagarians' weight without difficulty.

The air smells.. just as jungly as it looks. And there's a slight haze in the air. Water vapour?

Microscopic airborne plant organisms.

Security and detection, nice.

I'm just stepping onto the last pad as there's a change in the plants around me. The blooming flowers seem to brighten, their petals broadening as more flower stems pierce the surface of the water and burst open. Bark bare moments before sprouts elegantly patterned leaves angled to make slanting stripes down the interior walls as vines hanging from the ceiling flower in unison. Then the leaves move, a perfectly choreographed undulating pattern which for one disquieting moment reminds me of nothing so much as the maw of some great predator.

Then the leaves and flowers… Oh, she didn't. Yes she did, they're bowing down as she walks out of the building and out onto the platform on the far side of the pool. She's not a particularly tall woman, actually, though her pink and purple leaf fronds do render her visually distinct from her subjects. Leaves sprout from her back forming a cape while her modesty -assuming that she has anything to be modest about- is preserved by a mini dress made of petals. The Thanagarians drop to their knees with their heads bowed as she approaches, the flowers and leaves turning to follow her.

I'm favoured with a small smile. "Are you impressed now?"

"Swamp Thing covered a whole city of steel, stone and concrete in plant life in about five minutes. It's.. reasonably impressive, but it isn't anything I haven't seen before."

She rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. "Your homeworld is insane. I do hope that you realise that."

"Oh yes, most certainly."

"Fine, fine." She waves her right hand and the extra growth dies, browning and becoming brittle in seconds. "You have something for me?"

I walk closer before holding out Commander Andar's token. "I was hoping that I might-?"

A plant tendril snatches it from my hand and rapidly conveys it to Queen Hyathis. "Hm. You found him work, good. It doesn't do for them to be sitting idle. And you want examples of our technology so.. that…" I see a flare of light inside her. "The inhabitants of planet J can examine them. I agree, so long as we can examine some of theirs in return. Was there anything else?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August
23:38 GMT

What would a spaceship made of plant matter look like? It turns out, pretty much like one made of anything else. The physics which make a particular design sensible apply equally to whatever you make it of. Normal wood isn't a more sensible building material than bone or flesh, and the thaumically enhanced sort that they grow their hulls out of is still forced into shape by similar design priorities to the ships I've seen before.

"What do yeh think?"

The retired fleet officer next to me pats the hull affectionately. Once Queen Hyathis had an agreement in principle I became a good deal less interesting. Not unreasonable, she does have a planet to run and a war to orchestrate. Enneret is one of the people assigned to look after Alstair's mothball shipyard as a sort of working retirement.

"I'm not really familiar enough with the magic involved to pass comment."

"Oh yeh? That Swamp Thing of yours not do a lot of shipbuilding, then?"

"No. As far as I know, if he wants to go somewhere through space he adjusts his own resonance frequency and connects to the plant life there." Although… I.. don't think Swamp Thing 16 has experienced the events that led him to develop that ability. Or at least use it in that fashion. Certainly he wasn't set on fire at the conclusion of his attack on Gotham. Would that have happened if I hadn't involved myself? I wonder if I can get him interested in this. Or Tefé?

"Cor." He looks impressed. "That sorta thing takes some serious skill. What happens to his body?"

"He's a plant spirit more than a physical plant being like yourself. He only makes bodies so people have something to talk at. Or when he wants to hit someone."

He appears to take that in his stride. "We do something a bit similar for drones and weapon mounts. But ships like this always have a crew."

I take another look over the hull. "No joins, seams or weld points. Is it grown as a single unit?"

"No, but we graft the bits together and then smooth it all over. Every ship's a single living organism."

"How do you get in? I don't see a door anywhere."

He lays his right hand on the hull and rolls his eyes back in his head for a moment. In response a nearby section of hull creaks and snaps out, connected to the interior by thick vines. "Magic."

"Just you coming with me?"

"Usually have a crew of three or four in a real fight." He sighs. "Back when me and this one got fights. Just me's fine for a milk run like this." He steps towards the hatch. "You coming?"

"I think I'll stay on the outside. Can I assume that the FTL system isn't Lantern-speed?"

"I wouldn't want to try flying this across the system, if I'm honest. But I'm not going to be able to talk to you outside. I can't connect to your body's plants and the hull blocks every other form of communication."

I frown. Not giving this guy a power ring… "How do you talk to the Thanagarians?"

"Symbiotic algae. How do you think the queen cured that plague? Same deal. Get enough of it in their body they can even control plants like we do. Some of them, anyway."

Oh, that's worth knowing. "Okay, well, once we get to minimum safe distance we're flying straight to wherever Medphyll-."

"Medphyll? That's his name? Why didn't he just call himself 'Plant Man' and have done with it?"

"Um."

"You don't call yourself 'Meat Man', do you? Honestly, what sort of parent calls their child something like that?"

"I.. don't really know enough about J's naming traditions... Look, he's perfectly capable of connecting to other plant forms. He can talk to you when we meet him. We'll probably drop you off on J for a bit, if that's alright."

"Fine with me." He strides into the ship, the hatch closing behind him. For a moment I can see the join, and a few cracks where the hard outer layer was slightly chipped by the separation. Then there's a very slight movement along the edges of the join and it's gone. Then the ship sort of wobbles a little before lifting off its berth and turning nose up. With a hum, it shoots upwards into the air.

I rise a little slower, looking around at this place as I do so. I remember an episode of Top Gear when they visited a place like this, a place in the desert where the United States dumps planes it doesn't need at the moment. Here are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of plant-based spacecraft that survived the constant warring to reach obsolescence. Most are relatively small, though there are a few of cruiser size. As I gain height I can see small groups of military cadets clustering around one under the eyes of an instructor. A lesson? Maybe a class project?

It's all so wasteful. These ships might be past it by military standards but if the apparently unwinnable war was abandoned they could serve any number of civilian purposes. Or perhaps they could sell them to J? From what I saw coming in they didn't appear to have anything in the way of orbital infrastructure.

I accelerate, rapidly gaining on the plant ship. The Antares Conflict really isn't my problem, though as far as I can see I'd gain more by working with Alstair than any of the other three. I'll come back here once I've returned to Earth, see if I can get Euanthe something. I'm already plotting our return course as I leave the atmosphere, not really bothering to look at the planet below me. I saw it all on the way in and.. it's not like this is the first plant world I've seen.

The plant ship levels out as it turns in the general direction of J. It does have an FTL drive, but since the Antares Conflict rarely moves beyond the boundaries of this system it isn't designed for more than brief hops. I extend my environmental shield around it and warp.

…

Pfffff.

Yes, Prince Markov was definitely right about flying long distances. Maybe I should ask Hinon about getting a spaceship of my own? It wouldn't be faster than I can fly at peak motivation, but it would take some of the boredom away.

Sector 586 appears around us in a sudden dimming of the starscape. Ring, location of Lantern Komand'r?

Location set as waypoint.

Haven't gone far, then.

Warp again, this time for a few seconds, and I appear in interstellar space. A short distance away I can see two orange glows and one green one, silhouetted against a large spaceship. Looks like… Bulk transportation?

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four to Koriand'r. Are you busy?"

"No. The ship malfunctioned and called for aid. Is this what being a Lantern is?"

"A Sector Lantern, yes. Sometimes helping people means killing slavers, sometimes it means repairing things for them." The plant ship begins to move under its own power again so I retract my environmental shield. "Are you nearly finished?"

"Yes. Is that ship Dominator? I had imagined them being more fearsome."

"No, just Alstairian. A proof of concept." I transition up to the ship, where Medphyll and Koriand'r are mending a gash in the outer hull. Looks like an internal explosion. Komand'r floats nearby with her arms folded across her chest, clearly disinterested. "Lantern Medphyll, is this something you can work with?"

He holds out his ring in its general direction, a frown appearing on his forehead. Then he nods. "Yes. I believe that it is."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th August
09:57 GMT

The planet Cairn reminds me of Rashash-

I duck my head back as a chunk of concrete comes flying past.

-oon, in that it's a-

I raise a shield-shaped personal force field to soak a couple of misdirected plasma pulses.

-hangout for violent criminals and mercenaries. The difference is that rather than being a state that has socially reengineered itself to cater for mercenaries, it's a failed state that is gradually being overtaken by them. Where it isn't being overtaken by drug lords or other brands of criminals. It's all.. so… Inefficient. Barely any order, limited capacity due to everything and everyone being unreliable-. Hellhole, that's what this planet reminds me of. Lantern Chance would feel right at home here.

"AAArrraaaaaagh!"

A four armed and shell-covered alien stagger-charges towards me, the green drool dripping from.. his..?

Subject is most likely neutral gender.

His four-pronged beak-mouth suggesting either mental decay or an addiction to one of this planet's main exports: highly addictive designer narcotics. I don't actually recognise the species-

Subject is Brogian.

-but they don't appear to have more than muscular strength. I lunge, covering the distance between us faster than he can react and striking him between the eyes with my right fist. His feet shoot out from under him and he lands hard on his back.

Ring, how much electricity is appropriate to stun one of these?

Calibrating taser.

"Dah!"

The Brogian shakes, then lies still.

Thank you.

A couple of Khundian soldiers guarding the shop I'm heading towards regard the scene not so much with interest as with bored disinterest in everything else. The manner of their dress implies that they're irregulars; the fact that they held discipline when people near them fought strongly suggests that I'm in the right place.

I straighten, pulling my cloak around my light armour as I do so. The Khundians should see me as a well-equipped professional mercenary, but not.. exceptional. Heavy power armour such as I usually wear in combat would stand out too much in these parts. No Psion-equivalent around here to hand out ultra-tech to the local hard cases.

Well. The scan I made from outside the atmosphere suggested that someone with a yellow power ring had been through here at some point, but I'm not seeing any Qwardian technology around her-.

"That's far enough."

The Khundian closest to me has his right arm out slightly. He's not exactly blocking my path, but it's clear that he can at very short notice. He's only got a few centimetres on me in height but is far broader. Again, Khundians aren't super strong but they can arm wrestle Okaarans at no disadvantage.

"What you doing here, little man?"

"I'm here to talk to Mister Kharhi."

I don't make eye contact, instead keeping my gaze focused on the door in front of me. Poking around the periphery of Dominion space is a risky prospect, and I'd rather not start a fight with anyone else. At least, not until it's essential to do so and I have an overwhelming advantage. I'd much rather just purchase examples of Dominator technology from a licensed vendor. The Khundians have an… Understanding with the Dominators and are known to use their technology upon occasion.

"And what makes you think he wants to talk to you?"

"Makes it rather hard to sell things if he won't talk to customers."

"Mister Kharhi isn't your type of two-bit gunrunner. Go hit up a boomshack on northside if you want a new popgun, fool."

"Is this some sort of test? A hazing? Because I think I'm going to get annoyed with it rather fast."

"No." He leans closer. "This is me telling you go get lost."

His colleague cracks his knuckles with a grin. "Or we help you get lost."

Weak body armour, weak personal force fields, reasonably tough physiology but nothing special. So many ways…

I manifest a railgun under my coat and fire a hard foam round at the closest before back-pedalling. He snarls and starts to come at me as the stuff coats him and his colleague, hardening enough to bring him to a halt. I then step around to his right side and strap a bomb to his forehead, pressing the activator switch in the centre to make it give a worrisome beep. The second Khundian is even more enveloped, eyes glaring at me defiantly as I apply a bomb directly to his forehead as well.

"Mediocre."

I step away as the Khundian who did most of the talking goes cross-eyed trying to look at the bomb. Not all that hard to get off, if you've got fingers far smaller than he has. Right, door. The relatively unimpressive shop façade does a little to disguise the fact that the exterior is actually quite well armoured. The door mechanism… Scan. Armed, but a simple electromagnetic burst takes care of that and a crumbler round takes care of the lock. I shove the door open and take a scan of the interior. A short corridor going… Ah. I step inside, kicking the door shut behind me.

"Mister Kharhi, this is not good customer service."

"I have no interest in dealing with the weak." No obvious source for the voice. Sound induction, probably. "Are you armed?"

"Yes."

"Good." A section of floor shimmers and vanishes, revealing a stairway down into the ground. "So are we."

"So noted." I make a show of looking around while keeping my hands from pointing at anything. "Are we trading today?"

"Get down here and we'll talk about it."

I flex my hands, then start down the steps. According to Amalak's contacts, Kharhi is a pretty well connected fellow. If the Dominator computer parts I want can be bought, he should be able to supply them.

"Do I have to jump through any more hoops?"

"You better have something worth trading, but you seem to know your business."

The door at the bottom of the steps is a fortified bulkhead protected with two layers of force field. I wait for them to be deactivated, and then the door bolts clunk free and the door swings open. Another similarly fortified door inside. Fair enough. I make a point of activating my personal force field and them step through. The door clunks shut behind me, and I hear a faint hum as the shields reactivate. Then-.

Heh.

"An environmental purification system? Really?"

"There is honour in being slain by a skilled warrior. There is none in choking up one's own lungs while they watch your struggles like a callous, disinterested vivisectionist."

I nod. "My people forbid the use of gas weapons in war. I hadn't realised that Khundians have a similar restriction."

"We don't. Honour is for Khundians. We're perfectly happy to gas the rest of you." The purification system stops and the inner door clanks open. "Come in, alien, and make me an offer."

I take a step forward. "Just so we're clear, I'm wearing my purification system."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th August
10:02 GMT

Khundians are a great species to act as the bad guys in superhero comics. From their aggression, brutality and their disdain for aliens to their cultural bias towards head-on confrontation. Most arms dealers around here wouldn't meet me in person, or if they did it would be from behind a fortified customer service desk and with a dozen or so automatic turrets trained on me. There would be a bomb under my chair and -around here- probably an ambush waiting for me down the road after the meeting ended.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

Mister Kharhi doesn't bother with any of that. He's wearing light armour with a pretty respectable force field emitter built in, but he's not got any other cover at all. Much like the Thanagarians, Khundians prefer operating computer systems while standing. There also aren't any automated guns. There is one Khundian in heavy armour -not powered, I note- with powerful force fields and a couple of rather large guns, but that's pretty much it. More than enough for most encounters like this, but nothing like enough to bother me if I was acting openly.

The small Khundian girl who appears to be performing maintenance on a plasma projector is also a little unusual.

"Orange. I want to purchase examples of Dominator technology."

"That narrows it down." He half-turns towards a weapon rack. "I've got lasers, gasers, grasers, a couple of their short-lifespan viral missiles. There's some heavier stuff out the back, but I'm going to want to see some currency before I let you anywhere near it."

"I'm really more interested in their computer equipment."

Mister Kharhi turns back to me, left eyebrow slightly raised. "Computer equipment? I'm an arms dealer."

"You buy from the Dominion." I shrug. "You can get it, right?"

"Yeah. Probably." He looks a little more cautious. The relationship between the Khundian Empire and the Dominion is reasonably good despite the anti-alien prejudice of both parties due to the fact that they're located quite some distance away from one another. That wouldn't mean that the Dominion would hesitate to disappear an arms dealer who overstepped where they thought that the bounds were. "What do you need?"

"Whatever you can get. The more sophisticated, the more I'm willing to pay."

"Bulk buy?"

"No. Single pieces."

"Ehh." He strokes his goatee with his right hand. "What are you planning on doing with this?"

"What do you care?"

"I care, because if it turns out you were reselling to people doing intelligence gathering on the Dominion's warships them cutting off my access would be the least of my worries."

The ironic thing being that while I'm actually not going to do that, what I am going to do will probably make them even angrier.

"No, nothing like that."

"What, then? And this better be convincing, because I'm not selling you a thing unless it is."

I raise my right hand, palm upwards, and trigger a hologram projector to display a slideshow of images taken from J and Alstair. "I'm speculating. I believe that the technologies a couple of worlds I've visited use would be compatible with Dominator computer systems. I think that if they studied them, it could advance them quite a good deal."

"Oh? Where are these worlds?"

"I'm not telling you that." I shut down the hologram and lower my hand. "I don't want any competition when I show them my price list."

"Heh." A small smile, though empathic vision suggests that it's more to encourage me to keep talking than out of any actual sense of amusement. "That makes sense, but I'm still taking most of the risk if you're lying."

"What? You've seen my face. You've scanned my gear. If they ask, you can pass all of that on. Are you telling me that no one has ever shot at a Dominator using Dominator weaponry?"

"Dominators booby-trap weapons they haven't cleared for export." He thinks for a moment. "I can get you… Personal computers. Interfaces, weapon processors, that kind of thing. That what you want?"

"Sure, as long as you don't want much in exchange. But what I really want are central computers." He tightens the muscles of his right cheek. "It doesn't have to be current generation. A couple of generations old is fine. I'm not going to try and get my clients to compete directly with the Dominators-."

"'cause that's a good way to get your clients killed."

"Right."

Probably would be, actually. In this case J should be safe, in a stable Sector with a resident Green Lantern. If they were a larger presence then getting uppity at the Dominators might result in them suffering 'unexplained shipping losses', but if I remember Swamp Thing they generally try to avoid going near plant manipulators for exactly the reason I'm trying to exploit. But if Alstair learned enough to win the Antares conflict and expand… Then I imagine that the Dominion would sponsor someone -probably the Khundians, actually- to take a crack at them.

But just cribbing out of date Dominator technology to give themselves a boost? I'd be surprised if they cared. It's a very big galaxy. Dominators' warp gates let them move around fast, unless they have no presence in a region and they don't in either case. Chances are it would be generations before they found out, and by that point both worlds would be using things so different from what they started with that they might not even spot it.

"I could probably get something. Core from a wrecked cruiser. Good condition, nothing they'd care about missing."

"Sounds promising. How long?"

"Ah, not so fast. How are you paying?"

"Metals?"

He shrugs. "Metal market's not so good at the moment." I reach into my coat and pull out a thin strip of orichalcum. He wrinkles his nose. "Gold? What am I supposed to do with that?"

I toss it to him and he catches it in his left hand. "Try bending it."

He rolls his eyes. "Gold-" The muscles in his left hand tense. "-is-." He blinks, squeezes harder and then brings it up to his face for a closer look.

"Interested?"

"Interested, sure. How much you got?"

"A little more than that."

"Can you get more?"

"Not… Easily."

"No good then." He tosses it back and I catch it with my right hand. "I'd buy in bulk, but a small sample's no good to me. What am I going to do with a weirdly hard strip of metal?"

"Sell it to a better class of client. Science types would find it fascinating."

He shrugs. "I don't move in those kind of circles. Try again."

"The Dominators would probably be interested in it. If you have dealings-."

"My contacts are-" He points to the middle of his forehead with his right hand. "-low caste. Factory workers and scrap dealers. The people who'd be interested in that are high caste. Unless you can supply in bulk..?"

I could, but I'm not selling orichalcum in bulk to the Khundian Empire. "No. Alright, how about-" I reach into my coat again. "-one of these?"

I pull out an Nth Metal cutlass and his eyes light up. Thanagarians are pretty fastidious about Nth Metal not falling into enemy hands, and with Thanagar being just about the only source of the stuff in this galaxy the metal alone can go for some extravagant prices. Either with scientists or with warlords looking for a trophy.

Mister Kharhi nods. "Six days. Don't lose it. Now get out, I've got work to do."