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 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 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 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…"

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.

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."

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.

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."

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."

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?"

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."

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."

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."

6th August
10:57 GMT -5

"Scott, you realise that these-"

"Recognised, Mister Miracle, two one, Grayven, A one one, Lynne Wayland, A one two."

"-zeta tubes are inferior to hush tubes-"

Mitchell waves at us. "Hey Grayven."

"-in every way." I stride forwards, beaming at.. my friend. Friends. Kon and M'gann are here as well, his left arm around her and her right around him. It really has been a while… Five months -pretty much- since I've seen a lot of them.

I spread my arms wide and embrace the three of them.

"Good to see you again."

Kon ends up slightly squashed between his girlfriend and his brother. "Yeah, well, maybe next time you infiltrate a supervillain team you'll come visit sometimes."

"I'll be sure to do that." I release them. "Not like I couldn't have snuck in whenever I wanted anyway."

M'gann smiles politely. "Sure you could." I smile and behind me Scott coughs self-consciously. Her eyes widen slightly. "Wait, you actually could?"

I beam. "How have you all been?"

"School went okay." Mitchell shrugs. "Kinda boring when I already know everything they're teaching, but… Meeting.. normal people… That's kinda cool."

"Kon and I visited my parents on Mars using the hush tube!"

Gosh. That must have been like a cultural missile strike. "And how did they take your.. redness?"

"Ah, they were.. okay." Her eyes shift to the side. "Ah…"

Kon gives her a squeeze. "One of her little brothers told his neighbours and some of his friends. Next thing we know the whole city was freaking out. We got a military escort to go and see Prince Jemm."

M'gann nods, her face tilting slightly towards the floor. "Everyone found out all at once that the whole.. reason for Martian apartheid is that some super powerful aliens messed around with our ancestors, and the only reason why we revere our leaders is that they look most like our crazy ancestors."

"Did you..? Intend-?"

"No! I just-!" She throws up her hands. "I couldn't keep something like that a secret!" Looking past her I see Wallace and… Frances Kane, in some pink and white abomination of a New God's armoured raiment. Scott, you couldn't do better than that? "The whole thing completely defined our civilisation since… Since it started, and it's-. Hateful nonsense."

I shrug. "You know Martian society better than me." Ring, remind me to check on Mars at some point. I don't want the place to go the way of every other DC version of Mars if I can help it.

By your command.

"Hey Grayven!" Wallace waves as he approaches. "You remember Frankie, right?"

M'gann and the Els step aside to let the two of them through. I nod, and extend my right hand to her. "Of course. How are you doing?"

"Ah. Better, thank you." She starts to hold out her right hand, then pulls her fingers into her palm as if she's not quite sure whether or not she should. I give her a warm smile and give my hand a little shake, extending it a little further. She checks my face as if.. to make sure that she's allowed, then takes my hand. I make a point of clasping it and actually shaking it rather than just holding it there.

"I'm glad to hear that. And your control of your magnetic abilities?"

"They're… Actually, they're almost perfect. I've been… Using the mana infuser Zatanna made for me, and…" She tugs at her right hand and I let it go. She holds it out and there's a quiet boom as a miniature boom tube opens, iron filings streaming out. They're rapidly collected into a shining grey sphere, which turns into an cylinder and then flattens into a platform. "I can make it do just about anything."

"Excellent. Well done. It usually takes-" Wallace sticks his head out to the side, frowning. "-someone…" Idiot. I turn aside and motion Lynne forwards with my right hand. She somewhat self consciously comes up alongside me, staying close to my left leg. "Everyone, this is my daughter Lynne Wayland. Lynne, this is Wallace West, Frances Kane, M'gann M'orzz, Mitchell Kent and K-errr." I frown at Kon. "Are you going by 'Kon' or 'Conner' now?"

"Kinda getting used to 'Conner'. Just sounds better next to 'Mitchell'."

Ah, the Aerith and Bob effect. "Conner Kent, then."

"Hi?"

"Y'know?" Wallace looks a little awkward. "I know you said you were thirty, but this is still.. kinda weird."

M'gann elbows him. "Wally."

"Oh. Sorry." He gives Lynne a smile. "I don't think we met when I visited your mountain. It's just… We all kinda assumed Grayven was our age when he joined the team." Lynne frowns, then looks up at me. She then looks at Wallace as if he's an idiot. "Hey, he wasn't that big at the time."

No one says anything for a moment, their eyes doing that slightly unfocused thing they do when someone is speaking telepathically. I doubt that they're excluding me intentionally, but… Unless I intentionally suppress my barriers I'm not going to hear anything.

I make an effort and suppress my barriers.

**-want me to train with Mister Black, but he sounds okay.**

**Dad doesn't.. like me training with him too much either. Mostly I do things with the G-Gnomes or at the Center.** Lynne smiles at M'gann. **You should visit!**

**I'd be really interested to meet more telepathic Humans! So far I've only met Henry, but there's so much I learned on Mars that I could show them!**

I nod. "They're always looking for telepathic teaching assistants." Surprised stares and a slight air of guilt. "It would probably look good on your college application if you volunteered to assist them. As well as helping the children. I can arrange an appointment if you're interested?"

M'gann blinks. "Um, yes. Thank you."

"Uh." Kon-. Conner looks less sure. "Wouldn't you need to tell them that Megan Morse was telepathic to do that?"

"I can do it as Miss Martian. It'll be fine."

"Ah, Grayven?" Wallace shifts awkwardly. "Not that it's not.. great that you're not a supervillain and all, but… What's with the visit?"

"I'm going to be leaving the planet for a while, shutting up shop and taking the 'Grayven Experience' to the Vega Systems." Wallace looks slightly nervous. "I'm going to free a bunch of people from the rule of a brutally tyrannous regime, help with rebuilding their civilisation-" He starts looking slightly less nervous. "-and then build my own Lantern Corps. Imagine it! A legion of Orange Lanterns under my command bringing justice to the universe!"

Wallace goes back to looking nervous. Some people.

"Oh right." Conner nods. "I think you said something about that before you left. When are you heading out?"

"A couple of days. I wanted to tie up loose ends and.. say goodbye to you guys properly. Is Kaldur around?"

Conner nods. "No, but he should be back real soo-."

"Recognised, Aqualad, B zero two,-"

Excellent. I turn-.

"-Robin, B zero one."

Oh.

Marvellous.

7th August
15:02 GMT -5

"Afternoon, Grayven." Sam nods at me politely, then frowns slightly as he looks at my companion. "And.. you're Jean, right?"

"Yes, General." She gives him a mildly deferential bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

He looks at me curiously. "Any particular reason you brought her along?"

"Yes. I'm going to be leaving the planet for an indeterminate period of time with a good deal of my retinue. If you need information or assistance Jean will be your point of contact, so I thought it would be wise to introduce you."

"Oh." He nods. "Anything I should know about?"

"I assume that the League informed you of my father's visitation?"

"Yeah. Damn near put the fear of God into me." I smile, bowing my head slightly. "What?"

"Reminds me of a film from Earth Prime. The villain of the piece asks a senator he kidnapped whether or not he considers himself a God-fearing man, as he himself has always preferred to think as God as kind and loving. Not someone to be feared. Then he.. suggests that the senator should be afraid of him instead." My smile falls away. "In this case, being afraid of Darkseid is considerably more sensible. The Christian God is unlikely to turn up inside your home."

"There really nothing we could do to stop him?"

"Nothing that would be reliable, or leave you with much of a planet left. I'm working on the problem, but-" His desk intercom buzzes. "-it's going to be a long term thing."

He nods, then presses the 'answer' button. "Yeah?"

"Director Armstrong is here, sir."

"Good. Show her in." I raise my eyebrows as he takes his finger off the button. "Katarina Armstrong is the newly appointed Director of the Department of Metahuman Affairs. We wanted to bring you in on the vetting, but with you being out of commission and then incommunicado…"

"I'm sure that she's a fine choice. Didn't go with the 'Extranormal Operations' title?"

"President's office thought it sounded too militant. Since it's supposed to be a civilian organisation investigating crimes and social issues rather than one big super powered SWAT team." He waves his right hand dismissively. "That stuff's not my department. Whatever makes it easier to sell it."

I nod. "I think the.. training program aspect was the one I was most concerned about them getting right. Did the budget get-?"

I cut myself off as the door opens, Sam's junior aide-de-camp just barely getting out of the way as the.. striking blonde woman behind her strides through. "General Lane." She stops as her eyes alight on me, the lieutenant behind her giving her a slightly evil eye before leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind him. "And the two illegal aliens."

I rise to my feet. "As I understand it, I have de facto recognition as a diplomatic official. And.. Jean is a member of my staff. And was created in the United States. Though it's funny you should put it like that; for years Lex Luthor would only address Kal-El as 'the alien' as well." I smile and hold out my right hand. "Congratulations on your appointment."

"Thank you." She approaches, takes my hand for exactly long enough that I can't be certain if she's deliberately insulting me or just in a hurry, and then sits down on the pew opposite. "I've made my view clear to the President and to General Lane that you should have killed Luthor when you had the chance."

I sit back down, half-turned towards her. "I made it quite clear when I spoke to him that his stay of execution could be rescinded at any time. Has he.. done something that would warrant that?"

"No. Not that we have the ability to keep tabs on everything he does."

Hm. "I'll check in with him when I get back from my trip. I should say though that he did seem reasonably amenable to the idea of not being killed."

"You're going somewhere?"

I nod. "The Vega Systems. It's-."

"I know where Vega is, Grayven."

"Actually, you don't. There's this rather interesting gravitational lensing effect, which means that Humans tend to underestimate how-."

"Does anything you're going to be doing there have any impact on metahuman-related security in America?"

"Not in the short term, though it is part of my eventual scheme for preventing Father from coming back."

"Then don't bother telling me until you've got something concrete to brief me on. I'm building a federal agency, I don't have time for things that aren't relevant to my work."

I open my right hand in a mock surrender gesture. "Very well. In that case I should warn you that my retinue and I are going to be unavailable for several weeks. Jean will be your-" I lean back slightly and gesture to her with my right hand. "-point of contact."

"When can I expect you to report for training?"

Um? "Training? I'm not sure I follow."

"The licensing program for civilian vigilantes. Like you. Other vigilantes will be much more likely to be willing to participate once they've seen you receiving your certification, and you would actually be able to arrest people. Legally arrest people."

Huh. I suppose that she does sort of have a point. Not.. sure.. how I feel about it… I turn to Sam. "I thought that Major Adams was going to be the lead on this?"

"Major Adams is a military officer under my command. I've got him on loan to the DMA, but he doesn't qualify for the licensing scheme."

Huh. Rats. I.. suppose that's it's only reasonable that she ask, though I find my mental teeth grinding at the possibility that I may need to actually report to someone.

"I.. wasn't.. around when the final wording was drafted. Can people who aren't US citizens go through this process..?"

"Yes." Director Armstrong sounds very sure of the fact. "Given how many American Justice League members are space aliens I made sure that the text specifies that it applies to anyone operating inside the US."

"I thought that it wasn't going to be a compulsory thing? Individual.. cities were still going to be able to sort out their own relationships?"

"Rifle isn't large enough to qualify, and you haven't done any work there anyway."

"Oh, that's not true. There was a car theft a couple of months ago-."

"Director. Grayven." We both look at Sam. "No, it's not compulsory. But we want it to become the default access route to superheroing inside our lifetimes. We can do it without you if we have to… But, heck, you were the one saying it was such a great idea."

He's not wrong. It is, just… For everyone else. Ah well. "We can have a chat about it after I get back from Vega. Obviously, I.. wouldn't be working for the DMA directly, just being the standard bearer for the registration program."

"That's what I asked. What about the rest of your people? The Tiger, the Gothic Flash,-"

"Hah!"

"-the pyro-."

"No, she's.. not interested in law enforcement. Not yet, anyway. Nothing quite like being shadowed by SHADE agents for years to put you off that sort of thing."

"And the British duo. And the-" She glances at Jean. "-Genomorphs."

No mention of Sunset Shimmer? I suppose that she hasn't been quite as visible as the others…

"I'll be certain to ask them about it."

7th August
16:47 GMT -5

By now, people aren't anything like as excited about a boom tube opening inside the Centre as they used to be. The children -if there are any around- barely bother looking up from whatever they're doing. The adults generally pay a little more attention, most likely curious as to what strange freak of nature I'm going to be bringing with me today.

Katarina Armstrong was quite definite about stepping through the boom tube ahead of me. Obviously she couldn't actually barge me out of the way, but she strode forward sufficiently fast that my choice was 'let her' or 'trample her'. I think.. maybe I should have a chat with her about what happens if a boom tube aperture opens inside of a baseline human. She took the time to switch out of the suit she wore for our meeting with Sam in favour of tight fitting black trousers and a green turtleneck sweater with a yellow diamond on the chest. That must be sweltering when she's outside, but Americans do love their air conditioning.

The receptionist tries smiling at her. "Can I help-?"

"We're here to see Doctor Williams." Director Armstrong sweeps past the reception desk in the direction of his office.

"Ah..?"

I pull a slightly strained face in the receptionist's direction and shake my head before striding after Director Armstrong. "Director, if I might intrude for a moment?"

"Speak."

"I can understand you confronting me like that with General Lane. I'm an awkward irregularity, trying to hold myself above the rules I expect other people to follow, and… My presence could undermine your position. Fine. When I said that I would sign up and do PR for you, I meant it. And I should really have volunteered without needing to be pushed."

No obvious response. She could at least appreciate my magnanimousness a little bit.

"But… This is a civilian school. Aside from a couple of minor indiscretions on Miss Selton's part and.. a couple of parking tickets, no one here has committed an offence. Or shown any propensity towards vigilantism."

"Except your daughter and Claire Selton."

"Miss Selton was defending herself, and it was a one time thing. The point that I wish to make is that I've got a broad back. Hurt my pride, I'll live with it. But this is my daughter's school."

She stops and turns around, staring up at me. "Wasn't that why the British attacked it and put everyone's lives in danger?"

I smile. "What's the point of having deniable assets if you don't deny what they do?"

"Don't give me that. You pissed them off-"

I glance at a nearby classroom. "Language!"

"-and they came after this school. That's exactly the sort of thing competent operatives won't allow to happen in the future."

"My people were on site in moments and the fatalities were zero. Even on their side."

"And there's absolutely nothing to stop them doing it again."

Hm. Could make reference to the Blacks' ongoing investigation, but I think it might be better if I kept her out of the loop. "Aside from the operation's total failure, the destruction of SHADE's resource base and the tremendous expense of the robot." And the fact that if something like that happens again I'm going to be a good deal less patient. "And they know that President Horne didn't believe their denial for a moment." And I hid multiphasic sensors on the roof with a hotline to Challenger Mountain and all of my personnel. Anyone trying that again would be swarmed under in G-Elves before they even reached the Center.

Director Armstrong turns away and resumes her journey towards Doctor Williams' office, this time at a more normal walking pace. She takes the opportunity to look in through one of the interior windows at a class in progress. Not Lynne's class, but Mister Valjek is in there giving one of their parapsychics… Seers, I suppose that I should say, some personal tuition.

"How many telepaths do you have working for you?"

"There are hundreds of G-Gnomes in total, but only a score or so in Challenger Mountain. I imagine that the Genomorph Collective would be perfectly willing to work with you, if you're interested in acquiring the capacity for telepathic information gathering."

"They were made by Cadmus."

"The original material was acquired from elsewhere, but this particular refinement was, yes."

"Cadmus is Luthor. Luthor is the enemy. I'm not hiring anything he made." She turns the corner, entering the corridor with Doctor Williams' office in it. "The children here, on the other hand…"

"May consider a career in law enforcement if they and their parents are approached appropriately. I would remind you that this place had trouble with SHADE and that they no longer receive any sort of government funding. I strongly recommend donning your more beneficent aspect if you want to get anything out of this."

"I'll take it under advisement." She takes hold of the door handle and sharply turns it before shoving the door open. "Doctor Williams."

He looks up from his computer -a slightly more modern model than when I first visited him- and blinks at her for a moment. "Oh. You must be-."

"Director Armstrong of the DMA."

I walk in behind her and close the door behind me, giving Doctor Williams a mildly apologetic wave.

"You're a.. little early, but I wasn't doing anything I can't put on hold." He presses something on his keyboard, then steeples his hands on the desk in front of him. "Can I offer you some coffee?"

"No. Thank you. What I want to-." She steps back as a chair floats from the side of the room to a position just in front of his desk.

"Please, take a seat."

I wonder if she's taken any notice of what I was telling her. I want the DMA to succeed. Doctor Williams doesn't care much either way. To be honest, he'd probably rather it failed, as someone in central government getting interested is likely to generate extra busywork for him. Then… There's the fact that he could probably squeeze her jugular vein closed…

"Thank you, Doctor."

And a slight smile. Good show. I take my own chair out of subspace and plonk myself down just behind her to her left, noting that the chair he selected for her leaves her head just slightly lower than his.

"So." He smiles. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm interested in the work you do here. You train young children with innate psychic powers how to use them better. There are a few other places across the US that do something similar, but only on a much smaller scale."

"Yes, that's certainly true. I have correspondences with most of them."

"The DMA is going to be looking to train adults with all sorts of powers. Most people with super powers either try and work them out on their own, or get taught by someone else with powers. That happens even if they join the military. The United States has never had a decent federal training program. I'm going to build one, and I want help from you and your staff."

"I see. What.. sort of help?"

"I want to hire them for my program. Or rent them. They have expertise that their country needs. And I want them teaching people to do what they do, the techniques they use. Obviously the DMA would be paying for everything."

Doctor Williams thinks about it for a moment. "That sounds reasonable. We do.. actually do some work with adults here. Today's lessons will be ending soon if you'd like to talk to some of the staff."

She nods. "Yes. I would."

"And… You… Don't want to draft any of our students..?"

"I'd like it if any of them with useful abilities came to work for us, but the US military is a volunteer organization. I'd like to get someone in to do career talks with the older students, but if they don't want to join up, fine. I don't know what SHADE was trying to pull here, but my organization is going to be legitimate."

Doctor Williams smiles. "Then I think we should be able to work together."

10th August
14:15 GMT

Tracking device number three… Removed. Ring, picking up anything else?

No further tracking devices detected. Warning: this technology is sufficiently dissimilar to devices on record that highly covert monitoring systems may escape detection.

I take a rune stone out of an equipment pouch and slowly move it around the surface of what was allegedly the central computer for a Dominator cruiser. It's about the size of a van.. and matches the partial scans that were on John's ring's database. The Green Lantern Corps has destroyed Dominator ships before, but they are generally designed in such a way that the most important bits are thoroughly disintegrated. The Guardians probably have better records…

No reaction from the stone, so no magic-based alert system. Which means that if it does have a monitoring system it's almost certainly sublight. After I picked it up I made a few random warp journeys and waited around to see if a Dominator ship would follow me. Nothing so far, and I left hard-to-detect sensors along the way. It's true that leaving an alien to be killed by another isn't the Khundian way, but I thought that a little caution was in order. Perhaps I was being unnecessarily paranoid. Of the devices I removed only one was a blatant leave-a-trail-and-tell-me-where-they-are type tracking device, probably put there by Mister Kharhi. The other two may well have been parts of the ship when it was still functional.

I take one last look around the highly radioactive nebula I'm hiding in. It's really quite pretty when viewed by radiation-proof eyes. Otherwise I wouldn't want to come here in anything less than a solid lead box. Hm. Ring, plot course for J.

Route plotted.

Warp.

Compliance.

Bit of a shame about the Nth Metal. I was looking forward to playing with it a little, but I've got a nasty suspicion that I'm going to have traded it all away before I get back to Earth. That or destroyed it without fully learning how not to handle the notoriously volatile substance. Mister Hol and Ms Thal were probably alright about me having small amounts of the stuff while I was limited to Earth, but I'd imagine that me trying to do anything major with it while on good terms with the Alstair-aligned Thanagarians would raise a few hackles.

Dominators aren't known for using phasing technology… No, probably not worth sacrificing one of the other cutlasses on the off-chance that something is phased in the prison. I'll keep it as a reserve option…

Warp terminating in three, two, one.

J appears in front of me and I plot a course towards the ground and the proto-spaceport that has grown up around Enneret's ship. The locals might find meatfolk disturbing, but the knowledge that there are other plant people out there appears to have kindled-. Probably not a good word to use there. Started, an interest in space travel. And magic. Apparently the local magic forces are much weaker than they are on Alstair, but since mystics like Medphyll do learn how to use it what Enneret showed them wasn't completely beyond their ken. Medphyll himself could get quite a few students out of this if he is prepared to teach them.

"Two Eight One Four to Komand'r. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Her face appears above my ring. "I have no idea. I'm not on J, I'm on Treigst. But unless watching plants grow is something you find entertaining I very much doubt it.

"Oh? What are you up to?"

"Undergoing a thorough medical examination. Are you and our host likely to be departing soon?"

"Hopefully within a few hours. Medphyll will want some time to familiarise himself with Dominator technology. And there's no need to rush back if Koriand'r is still here."

"Then I will not do so."

"I'll let you know when we leave. Two Eight One Four out."

Dropping through the atmosphere I can already see the crowds gathered around the landing area, mostly keeping back behind the barriers the city authorities have assembled. Enneret's been giving a lucky few flights in his ship, though the lack of any way of observing the exterior without magic makes it a slightly disappointing experience for most of them. A few of the rubberneckers below me look up and point but the presence of flying, glowing orange people isn't really a huge deal any more.

My ring blinks.

Answer.

Koriand'r's head appears. "Were you successful?"

"Yep. One giant plant computer ready for delivery. Everything normal here?"

"I have not yet become accustomed to this world's 'normal'. Lantern Medphyll is translating for a meeting of his people's religious leaders and Captain Enneret."

"Is it going well?"

"They appear to simply be exchanging information at this stage, though several have expressed an interest in meeting Queen Hyathis in person." Hm. "Was this your intent? Did you want to bring these two peoples together?"

"Not.. specifically, but I'm glad that it's happening. I don't like stasis."

"It is good to know that the change you bring does not always involve death."

"It's funny. In the sense of being odd. Before the Citadel I'm not sure that I'd killed more than… Maybe two hundred people? And that was mostly.. spread across two pitched battles. More or less pitched battles. I don't particularly like killing people, but it.. doesn't really bother me. Did it bother you? I didn't hear you say anything when we activated the Warden Stations."

"The fleet of the Citadel Empire was a blight upon Vega. That does not trouble me."

"The ones who ran into Amalak's force field? It's been a while since the faces of the dying bothered me, but-."

"I killed my first enemy when the Gordanians came for me and my sister. That did not trouble me, for I knew what they intended. But those who died that day were no threat to you. When you removed the Gordanians from Tamaran you spared many who had killed and enslaved many of my people, and yet you removed them to a new world for them to settle. Why?

I come to a halt in the air. "The Gordanians of the Tearing Bite clan were a community. While they all benefited from Tamaran's suffering, they had internal social mechanisms which could lead to them becoming something else if that opportunity was denied to them. I did not think it right to kill everyone in a group where not everyone was directly involved and not everyone was -by the standards they were used to- particularly bad people. I am loath to kill people who could become something better. However, it is my contention that unmodified Citadelians cannot. They aren't taught anything beyond using weapons or any ideology beyond Citadelian exceptionalism. Combine that with their low intelligence and you get a person who can't reform, not without invasive mind-altering techniques. And if I'm rewriting their brain, then they're not them any longer."

"Should I have dumped them somewhere and let them starve out of sight? Or let them rejoin the Citadelian remnant, so we can fight them again in the future?" I take a breath. "I fully expected most -if not all- to die then and there, and my assessment was correct."

"Aside from those few who were so crushed by what we had done to them that they could not rouse themselves to fight us."

"I found that rather hopeful, actually. It shows that they can learn new behaviours without needing to be programmed with them."

"You could have-."

"Why? Given what the Citadel was, given that in any civilised area of space what they'd done would earn them a death sentence, why should I treat them differently simply because… What, because I'd made use of them?" I start flying in Medphyll's direction again. "Of course, you are free to pursue a different approach to Citadelians you encounter in future and I will wish you good fortune if you decide to do so."

"I will."

"I suggest that you prioritise it, then. I doubt that Komand'r will be as generous. Would you let Medphyll know that I'm coming?"

10th August
14:23 GMT

Lantern Medphyll's eye unglazes, blinking twice before focusing on me. The glow from his ring fades away as he lowers his right arm. "You are right. It is somewhat similar in structure to the minds that control our skyscrapers, though far more sophisticated and less… Less creative. I don't believe there was ever an intelligence inside it."

Enneret is still touching it, his leaves twitching oddly. I give him a moment to see if he wants to chip in, but he remains focused on his task. Dominators are reputed to use magic, but according to John's database it's thought to be limited to a handful of high caste types. Medphyll hasn't contradicted that, so this was probably created using conventional technology. Conventional for a people as advanced as the Dominators, at least.

"But the important question is..?"

Lantern Medphyll nods. "I can disrupt similar systems with my ring. I don't know what that will do to the rest of the prison. Since we will be evacuating the entire population life support will not be an issue, but if they are containing any exotic life forms then they may be able to escape the remaining conventional restraints."

"If there are, I imagine that they would be pretty happy about escaping Dominator containment as well. If not, then with a bit of luck we'll be long gone before it can have a serious go at us. Everything else ready?"

"I have a location where I can maroon them until either I.. or my successor, can examine the data on their convictions."

I frown. "Your successor?"

"I doubt that your sophism will have a great deal of sway with the Guardians of Oa. I suspect that I will be called upon to explain myself. We will be going well outside my Sector without due cause. Properly speaking, I should simply refer the matter to the Lanterns assigned to that Sector."

"But they're busy keeping an eye on Colu."

"That is what I have told myself."

I shift a little uncomfortably. "And… what happens if they don't like what they hear? I.. wouldn't want-."

He shakes his head. "Excessive enthusiasm in the prosecution of ones duties is only an exilable offence in cases like Sinestro's. At worse, I would be discharged."

Oh? "I… Do have a giant pile of orange rings burning a hole in my back pocket." His eye narrows. "I'm not trying to get you kicked out. I'm just saying… If they react badly… You've got the skill set I'm looking for."

He looks away, returning his attention to the Controller computer. "I was considering retirement anyway." There's a brief glow from his ring. "According to the Green Lantern Corps database on Human culture, informing you of that fact indicates that we are now doomed."

I shake my head. "No, no it doesn't."

"Lantern Gardner-."

"You're doomed. I'm fine." I pat him on his left shoulder. "Ready to go?"

He takes a moment to look around at the crowds. "I will take the lead in the initial dialogue?"

I nod. "That's what we agreed."

"Then yes." He rises off the ground, environmental shield sparkling green. "Let us liberate your ally."

"To be completely fair-" I take off after him. "-we haven't actually met yet."

He looks down at me as the ground falls away beneath us. "You are willing to take on the Dominion for a single man you have never met?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Because they can and will bring death and ruination to everyone you know and love?"

"Them and.. an awful lot of other people. If I let stuff like that stop me I'd never get anything done." Or end up like Larfleeze. "How have you found working with Komand'r and Koriand'r?"

"Komand'r I find excessively aggressive. Though no more so than many new Green Lantern recruits. What concerns me there is that you appear to have told her that you will grant her far more freedom to act on her own initiative than a Green Lantern would be given."

"I don't believe that strict discipline will prove helpful when training Orange Lanterns. I'm more interested in recruiting people who want to do what I would have them do. Not.. that I mean to imply that I wouldn't keep an eye on them."

"I think that may be best." The atmosphere around us grows thinner and Medphyll's ring glows as he calculates his course. "My Sector has long since been peaceful. Most of the conflict I have seen has been when outsiders travelled here or when I have been called upon to aid other Green Lanterns in their Sectors. If a war like the one which Tamaran experienced came to J, if my people suffered as the people of Tamaran have… I could not be certain that I would not feel as she does."

"I don't think that the you who's lived the life you have would."

"I am uncertain as to whether you mean that as an insult or a compliment."

"Neither. An observation on psychology."

"Are you prepared to commence the journey?"

I shrug and drift closer to him, dialling my environmental shield down to the minimum. Maintaining conversations over long distance warps is a bit of a fiddle. It'll be easiest if one of us pulls the other along and he does have seniority. "I trust you."

He hesitates for a moment, then the space around us bends as he initiates the warp. Ring, match velocities during flight.

Compliance.

"And Koriand'r?"

"Quite capable. If she is representative of her world then it is a shame that no other Tamaranian has ever been called to the Green Lantern Corps."

"One was. Don't know her name. I assume that she was either living outside of Vega or got recruited before the bar came into effect." Thinking about it, if that ban was put in place just after Larfleeze moved in… "Most likely the first one."

"My ring's database indicates that you are mistaken."

"The Guardians erased a lot of entries in the Book of Oa after their attack on Apokolips failed."

"My ring's database has no record of that, either."

"Well… No. It wouldn't, would it?"

"Do you have any evidence, or… I understand that Humans have a tradition called a 'conspiracy theory'?"

"Sure, I can prove it. Do you want to stop off on Apokolips on our way back? They kept trophies."

"As I'm sure that you know, Apokolips is also off-limits to Green Lanterns. Do you have any other evidence?"

"Errr… You might be able to get Raker Qarrigat while he's wearing his ring, if you're very lucky. Maybe… New Genesis would have records of it? I could ask Canis when I go back to Earth."

"I am willing to examine any evidence that you present. Until then, I will remain true to my conviction that the Guardians of the Universe have not lied to everyone for millennia. And I would prefer it if you did not make baseless accusations."

"Noted."

"Warp terminating."

10th August
14:37 GMT

"Multiple weapon locks detected." / "Multiple weapon locks detected."

Well, yes…

I look out across the area covered by Starlag's interdiction fields, seeing next to nothing with my unaided eyes. The area covered by the fields is actually slightly lopsided, with a much greater area of empty space being covered 'in front' of the station while the gas giant it orbits around is largely uncovered. A moment later tiny dots of orange light appear across my visual field, and as I focus my attention on each in turn the ring informs me of what they are.

There are numerous small Dominion gunboats in grey and blue, general purpose craft either manned by low-caste Dominators or simply automated. Some are equipped with gravity clamps and used to pull small asteroids into close proximity to the station. Though it serves almost no economic purpose, working the asteroids keeps the more physical prisoners focused and tired as well as giving the ones they might end up releasing something to keep them motivated.

Mines aren't really supposed to work as an area denial weapon in space. Without air, explosions don't generate meaningful blast waves as they do in an atmosphere. Nonetheless, the Dominators are trying. The sheer number of evenly spaced spherical devices arranged in multiple shells around the station is.. frankly staggering. The minefields are augmented by thousands… No, millions, of force field projectors and detection nets similarly arrayed in spheres around the station. I've spent a little while trying to think of a way to sneak past them and so far I've come up with nothing. Light based invisibility is pointless, they'd detect phasing and based on some of the squiggles I've seen engraved on their exteriors I've got a sneaky suspicion that a Dominator sorcerer has added a little something in case someone tries to bypass them with magic.

I'm still a bit worried about that. An active magic user on site should be able to overpower local wards as long as their creator isn't around to reinforce them…

Further out are the weapon stations. Nothing as clumsy or undiscerning as the Citadel's Warden Stations, they have highly precise and powerful weapons… Which the station they guard is specifically designed to have no defence against. In the event of a prisoner uprising they would simply fire at it until there was nothing left and there would be nothing the prisoners could do about it. The station itself is lightly armed -most weapons are anti-personnel and set to be used against recalcitrant prisoners- but well armoured and shielded. And full of Dominion prison guards commanded by a mid-caste governor, while the high-caste science team do whatever takes their fancy to whomever takes their fancy.

"Multiple weapon locks detected." / "Multiple weapon locks detected."

Medphyll raises his ring in front of him, aiming it in the general direction of Starlag. "This is Green Lantern Medphyll. I wish to speak with the Governor of Starlag."

If I did have to force our way closer… I could probably overpower the spatial stabilisers, at least for a little while. Flying around a little at random should throw off their main guns… Then I… Hm. A long ranged gravity based attack might be able to knock out a weapon station… No, no, they'd call in reinforcements too fast for that approach to be viable. What else? Something… They've designed this station to be capable of resisting Green Lanterns, though not so obviously specifically designing it for that purpose that the Guardians might take umbrage.

What can I do that they won't have seen Green Lanterns doing?

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm trying to work out how to get past their defences if this doesn't work."

"I would appreciate advanced notice if you decide that such an attempt is necessary."

"It would be quite suboptimal. If I thought that I could take the place without you then I would have done so."

"Given the effort which you have put in, I am… Pleasantly surprised how rational you are being."

"For better or worse, pernicious rationality is something of a character trait of mine."

I haven't.. tried using the Honden to bypass spatial distances. Would that work? I try focusing on the desires of the people on board Starlag-.

Medphyll's ring flickers and a Dominator's head appears. They look a little like the Martians from Mars Attacks!, only with very sharp teeth and a red spot in the middle of their foreheads. The size of the red spot corresponds to the importance of their caste. This one… It's hard to get an idea of size from a construct projection, but since the edge of his forehead circle doesn't quite reach an imaginary vertical line drawn up from his tear ducts I'd say that this fellow was mid-caste… And I think the squiggle in the middle indicates local seniority. So, either the garrison commander or the governor.

"Green Lantern. Do you have prisoners for us?"

"No. I am here to investigate reports-."

"You have no authority over this facility. It is Dominion controlled and operated under treaty with many neighbouring stellar civilisations."

"True. So long as you are operating in line with those agreements, and not performing any action which would grant me authority to intervene anyway."

"No such action is taking place."

"I have received reports of invasive biological experimentation being carried out on prisoners who are later reported to have died in accidents or fights. I wish to investigate the truthfulness or otherwise of these reports."

"Hshshshshs." Inasmuch as I can read Dominator facial expression, I'd say that he was decidedly unhappy about being put in this situation. "Who accuses us?"

"That certainly isn't your concern. The substance of the allegations-."

"I would not want you to waste your time investigating slander. We have many enemies who would rejoice at conflict between us and the Green Lantern Corps. Who accuses us?"

"I will not answer that question. The information was received in confidence, and I will treat that confidence with respect. Allow me access to the Starlag facility, and if I find nothing of concern I will ensure that we do not listen to people besmirching your good name out of jealousy again."

The Dominator watches him impassively for a moment, then the construct shuts down.

"Does that mean they're about to shoot?"

"More likely he is simply trying to demonstrate his control of the situation."

"Would the Honour Guard really bother with a place like this, even if they are talking to the Computer Tyrants?"

"Not simply at my request. But Lantern Lee has a reputation for violent thoroughness. I doubt that it would take much effort to persuade him to investigate in force."

"Do the Dominators know who's heading the taskforce?"

"Unlikely. But they are aware that the Guardians dislike them. It would not come as a surprise-."

The projection reappears. "I will tolerate a brief inspection. You will go where we permit and you will be searched before you leave. I will not allow you to interfere with this facility."

"As long as my colleague and I can lawfully comply with that request, we will do so."

"Colleague?"

"Yes." He turns the construct my way. "Green Lanterns often operate in pairs." And his ring transmission won't be able to display my sigil. Interesting. "I had assumed that you were aware-."

"Approach on a direct line. We will be monitoring you."

The head vanishes again.

"How did that go? "

"As well as I could expect. Though they will attempt subterfuge and will almost certainly attack us if we actually find anything."

"Good to know." I hold out my left arm in the direction of Starlag. "After you."

10th August
14:43 GMT

Starlag is a T-shaped station, an odd shape for any species advanced enough to have artificial gravity installed. Usually that shape is a result of the need to spin the inhabited areas around a central spoke. Here, it's more or less a huge city in space with a tail. I'm not really in a position to criticise the Dominators for their design decisions since I have no idea what their basis was for choosing this one. I know that high caste Dominators have to undergo some fairly involved purification rituals after having anything to do with aliens, so… Maybe it's something to do with that?

"They want us to enter through airlock seventeen."

I nod as Medphyll peels off. I didn't spend all that much time on the outside of the Citadel before I sent it on its way, but I still had time for a few moments of confusion as my brain tried to work out where 'down' was while I was standing on its surface and looking at the planet below. Starlag is smaller, but approaching it under my own power like this makes it seem larger.

I glance over at the nearest asteroids as I turn to follow Medphyll. We're getting a few looks-. No. He is, and not friendly ones. I spot one reptilian inmate… Rhilosian? Stop working with a force drill while she takes in the sight… And then drop the drill and start shaking as the Okaaran overseeing the inmates spots her slacking off and administers a punishment shock.

"Do Green Lanterns ever bring people here?"

"No. But we do hand criminals over to governments in this region, and many of them send them here. Why do you ask?"

"Post-arrest Lantern Corps policy is something I've been thinking about quite a bit recently. On Earth, people like me do the same thing: hand criminals we apprehend over to the local government and let them handle trial and punishment. I haven't yet been in a position where I was expected to hand someone over for grossly disproportionate punishment or to be punished for something that I didn't think of as being a crime."

"But… I've arrested far more people than I could check up on. Quite a lot of them would have gone to… Prisons not conducive to rehabilitation. And the local Green Lanterns vicariously send people here. Should they? Koriand'r seems to think I should have had somewhere to put the Citadelians I stopped mind controlling. Should we branch out?"

"It's not something I've given much thought to myself. But since you ask-" We fly under a… Antenna, maybe? A spar of some kind in Starlag's superstructure. "-I am inclined to think 'not'. Green Lanterns were never intended to be the be-all and end-all of law enforcement. And we are certainly not meant to subvert principled governance."

"But you're still the people handing people over for the Dominators to dissect."

"We don't know for certain that they do that." The airlock comes into sight, two humanoid robots standing on the outer hull with weapons pointing towards the closer asteroids. "And while I am hesitant to compare the practices of the Green Lantern Corps to what you did on Dryanna, you said yourself that you could have elected to keep them alive."

"Yes. But I'm allowed to kill my enemies."

"Do you think that the rules we are told to follow are the sum total of morality?"

Fair point. "No, of course not."

The robots note our approach, walking slightly further away from the airlock as the outer doors slide open. Medphyll doesn't bother looking at them as he drifts inside.

"If I found myself in a situation where I felt it was necessary to kill an enemy to prevent some great evil, I would do so. Not without hesitation." I fly in behind him and the outer door closes behind me. "I have become too accustomed to resolving conflicts without resorting to lethal measure for that to be true. But I would do so. If it were not necessary-" Gas begins flowing into the chamber. "-then I would prefer to be able to use a prison that would keep most of my prisoners alive rather than slaughter eight hundred of them."

Ring, check the gas?

Seventy six percent nitrogen and twenty percent oxygen, with various other gasses making up the remainder. It is safely breathable.

"You think that I should have brought them here?"

"As opposed to what you did? Yes, this would have been better."

"If I had a prison ready to go I would have put them there. If they had the skills to build a settlement I'd have marooned them like I did the Tearing Bite clan Gordanians."

"But you knew of this place. Its existence is the very reason why you came to me for aid."

"I don't believe in bunting. What's the point in putting a group of violent brutes in storage?"

"What is the point on your homeworld?"

"As I said, rehabilitation. Then punishment, public protection. Perhaps a consideration to the fact that they might turn out to have been wrongly convicted. Does Starlag rehabilitate?"

"I would give it better odds than shooting them all."

"Really? We're talking about a cloned and mentally programmed race-." It's not the same as Kon. He switched sides after a short conversation! "Programmed to be simpleminded warriors, not programmed to be anything else." There's a chime as pressure equalises. "I knew what they were and what they'd done with near one hundred percent accuracy from their own records. What I did was give them one last chance to prove that I didn't need to kill them all."

"Vega is a far more violent place than my own Sector. What you did was more generous than most local groups would have done."

"True, I suppose."

The inner door slams open and he walks through. "That is a very low standard by which to judge yourself."

"I'd like to see you do better."

Our welcoming party consists of two low caste Dominators armed with wrist-mounted particle projectors and wearing armour and face-covering helmets, one mid-caste administrator (not the governor) and a heavily armoured Okaaran with a shock-cudgel. I hadn't really appreciated how many Okaarans found themselves working in places like this. Or maybe she's a trustee? No, that doesn't sound likely.

"Guests." The administrator holds his hands at his chest, palms up and fingers pointing towards us. Polite ritual greeting. Not a happy greeting; if it were he'd be standing closer. "I am to escort you to the governor. Remain with us. Do not speak to anyone without permission or scan anywhere without permission."

"Is the governor busy?"

His eyes move to Medphyll and rest there for a moment before returning to me. "He is willing to speak with you. Consider yourselves privileged."

"It just occurred to me that it would have been faster for us to have come in closer to the command level. Or he could have come down here."

"This area is.. impure. I will require cleansing later. For someone of the governor's position it would be… Inappropriate."

Medphyll nods. "We will accompany you."

The Okaaran turns away, stomping across the room towards the inner door. She waves her right hand over the sensor, which chimes and opens the door. It's big enough for her to pass comfortably through, perhaps an effort to allow the prison to cope with inmates of a wide variety of sizes. I.. wait for a moment for the Dominators to follow.

They don't move. The administrator's eyes move from us to the open door and then back again. Medphyll and I look at each other. I suppose..? We're supposed to go next?

Medphyll starts towards the door and a small amount of tension appears to leave the administrator. I shrug and follow him, the two soldiers and the administrator then following in strict order.

Now. Do I think they can detect empathic vision?

10th August
14:51 GMT

If they can, no one's saying anything.

As prisons go, this one isn't much worse than Belle Reve. The areas we've seen are clean and well put together, though the shiny pale blue-grey would probably irritate my eyes if my ring didn't come with built-in shades. The prisoner areas we've seen so far have exercise equipment and terminals which I presume are for education or entertainment. Monitoring equipment is reasonably unobtrusive and there are force field protected balconies for the guards.

We haven't encountered any prisoners so far, and while I initially suspected that was due to the time of day a quick flash of empathic vision showed that not to be the case. While empathic vision doesn't let me tell guard from inmate with complete reliability, watching flashes of yellow as one group of people are herded out of the corridors and rooms ahead of us does make it somewhat obvious that they're attempting some sort of deceit.

Interestingly, sounds don't appear to travel through the walls at all. If I wasn't seeing what I'm seeing, I might think that there was nothing amiss. I try not to look behind me too much to see what happens when we've passed through an area. That might make it a bit obvious that I'm up to something.

The Okaaran ahead of us comes to a halt again, and a blink shows me a handful of people being shoved down a side passage. Medphyll turns around and takes a step towards the administrator. The administrator's bodyguard don't quite raise their weapons, but their arms definitely tense slightly.

"Is there a reason for these delays? We could have flown to one of the upper airlocks by now."

"Security procedures require entry through lower airlocks."

"Why?"

The administrator blinks. "That is the established procedure."

I'm not sure how Dominators reproduce, but it seems that they've got a knack for cultural indoctrination. I'm not seeing any desires not related to his role and the efficient performance of it. And a bubbling aversion to aliens. Makes sense, really. If they didn't keep themselves separate and have a built-in reason to keep away from aliens at least some Dominators might start to see them as people. As it is, no one likes needing to perform a lot of rituals that get in the way of their main job, they associate those rituals with aliens… The whole thing reinforces itself. That might explain the Okaarans as well: they don't have to perform rituals and so can handle most of the face to face contact with the prisoners.

The door in front of us slams open, the hallway empty-. The floor's damp. They moved the cleaners out. The Okaaran starts walking again, while Medphyll gives up on his mutual-incomprehension-stare-off with the administrator and starts onwards once more. Okay, clearly they're trying to stage manage the visit and almost certainly restrict our access to prisoners. I'm pretty sure that Medphyll will back me, having come this far. The Dominators have breached what the Guardians consider 'acceptable malfeasance' by dealing with the Computer Tyrants. There might be a… Difficult few moments where he's trying to wreck their computers and they're trying to decide whether or not to fire into their own prison to stop us, but that's the nature of the beast.

The end of the corridor opens onto a small chamber with another two Dominator guards on duty in front of a decorated doorway. The Okaaran leading the way peels off before that, resulting in Medphyll and myself leading the procession. We both hesitate for a moment but apparently that was supposed to happen. Looking at the floor again, I see a band comprised of two golden lines with… The ring isn't translating it so the golden symbols between them must be purely decorative. This is the first time that I've seen it. A boundary marker for the edge of Dominator territory? Might explain why they're using Okaarans instead of other mercenaries. Okaarans have discipline. People like the Khundians would constantly push a limit like that.

"Please head for the elevator. I will accompany you to the governor."

Medphyll and I proceed as instructed. Behind us, our escort peel off and take up position on this side of the corridor exit while the administrator follows us. The door slides open with a good deal less violence than the ones to which the prisoners have access, revealing a small octagonal elevator illuminated in pink-red lights. Dominators do see further into the red part of the spectrum than Humans. I suppose this is the lighting scheme that would be most comfortable for them. Medphyll enters first, walking to the rear of the elevator and then turning to face the door.

"When you meet with the governor, there are protocols to observe." The administrator walks in and doesn't react either as the door closes or as the elevator very gently thrums into motion. "You are not to touch him under any circumstances."

"I'll try to restrain my base animal lusts."

"Yes. Do so. Also, do not pass objects directly to the governor. Do not refer to him by any sort of pseudonym, up to and including 'hey, you'."

"Is that something people actually do?"

"Violent criminals are not known for their grasp of appropriate socialisation." That's.. a reasonable point. "While we do not experiment upon them, we do have a variety of licensed punishments which we administer to the recalcitrant."

"I assume that these rules will also apply to any high caste Dominators we meet?"

The administrator's jaw flexes slightly. He's.. disturbed..? By the suggestion?

"You will not meet high caste Dominators."

"Really? If we're investigating possible prisoner abuses, do you really think that we won't want to talk to the most likely culprits?"

"If they had performed these acts, would you expect them to admit it to you?"

"Probably not, but-."

"And if they denied it?"

Huh. With Humans -or most other races- I could analyse body language or patterns of brain activity to try and work out whether or not they were lying. With Dominators, the structure of their faces and minds is such that unless they were choosing to signal to me I would be unlikely to get anything. As such, without any physical evidence (beyond the small amounts taken from inconsistencies in the occasional official investigations) there actually isn't much reason for me to speak to them.

Medphyll nods. "It is unlikely that we will need to speak with them. However, I cannot rule it out at this point in our investigation. If they have had contact with the prisoners, we may want to speak with them to give them the chance to contradict the prisoners' falsehoods."

The administrator looks mildly blank for a moment. "If it is.. essential…" He sounds so uncomfortable with the idea that it's almost amusing. "Messages may be relayed to them."

He turns away from us, and for a moment I think that he's trying to force us to stop talking about it. Then the vibrations stop and the door opens out onto a chamber nearly identical to the one below. A couple of Dominators in robes nearly identical to our administrator walks past us, their eyes briefly passing over us. It's fascinating exactly how dim the emotional lights within them are. There's a basic green structure with a few.. pools of red. But that's about it. The other colours are there, but they're translucent and ephemeral. Even making a bit of an effort I can't clearly see what they contain or what associations they have.

That's… Really odd.

Add.. 'study Dominator reproduction and indoctrination' to the slate, I suppose.

"Follow me." The administrator starts down a corridor in the direction the other two came from. "Do not fall behind, even accidentally."

He leads us to the end of the corridor, the door opening as we reach it. The bridge of Starlag is hexagonal, rising from the edges of the room towards a raised area in the centre. A Dominator I recognise as the governor sits in the centre, surrounded by glowing holoscreens. Further out there are another three stations, each of which is manned by other Dominators with red spots slightly smaller than his.

The administrator walks directly towards the central position, stopping-. There's another line on the floor. He doesn't have a big enough circle to cross it. He kneels in the direction of the governor's dais.

And we wait.

A few moments later the governor turns his chair in the administrator's direction. He doesn't say anything.

"Superior, I have brought the Lanterns into your presence."

"Inferior. I will deal with them. Return to your duties."

"I obey."

He gets up and leaves the bridge without a backwards glance, while the governor rises from his seat and walks towards us. "Lanterns. I have assembled a cross section of prisoners for you to interview. I assure you that you will not find anything to substantiate any accusations."

10th August
16:29 GMT

Oh, won't we now?

Our current interviewee is a Quahoogan man by the name of Biist. He's due for release in a little under a month and has absolutely no reason to give his captors any difficulty about certain people who aren't on his cell block any longer. His face is shaped a little like that of a Turian, but flattened. Tough looking spines jut out from the back of his prison issue black-with-blue-stripes jumpsuit.

Which is actually pretty stylish. Though given that Dominators have trouble seeing blue… Ring, infrared?

Compliance.

Oh.

That's some fairly impolite writing. Ring, back to normal vision.

Compliance.

"…not a holiday camp or anything, but…" His throat pouch swells for a moment before deflating again. Resigned acceptance. "It's prison."

Medphyll nods. "You haven't heard or seen anything that would give you reason to believe that the accusations are true?"

"People.. leave… People come. Some new guys pick fights and sometimes the guards kill them to stop them. Not often, but it happens. Experiments?" His eye ridges flex. A head shake. "No. Haven't seen anything like that. I mean, even if they were, how would I know?"

"Do you think they are?"

"I heard all kinds of creepy things about them before getting sent here." Another flex. "It's just a prison. Pretty well run, all things considered." He looks Medphyll in the face, then his eyes switch to me for a moment. "There.. anything else?"

I activate a holographic display. "Do you recognise this man?"

I know full well that he does. Quite aside from the fact that I can clearly see his face picked out in yellow in this man's soul, Psion records state that he was two cells down from our interviewee for most of his stay here.

The pulses in our subject's neck get faster. "Reshulp? Yeah, I… I knew him. What's… I mean, what's that got to do with anything?"

"Do you remember the last time you saw him?"

"Ah… No? I know he's not here any more, but… Morning exercise, maybe? Must have been a couple of years ago. I thought he got released."

I lean slightly closer. "Did you really?"

"Yeah?"

I step back, nodding. "An easy mistake to make. No, he was killed trying to escape through the inner force fields under his own power."

"Oh. Yeah, that… That happens sometimes. The guards find it funny."

No follow up. No 'if you know what happened, why ask me?'.

"Dominators find something funny?"

"No, not the… Not the Dominators. The other guards, the Okaarans."

I nod. "Unfortunately, the injuries on those parts of his body which were returned to the state in which he was arrested don't match those of someone killed in that way."

"I'd never seen his species before..? So… Maybe they just die differently or something?"

I nod again. "I suppose that's possible." I turn to Medphyll. "That's me done. Anything you want to ask?"

Medphyll leans forward across the table. "Do you feel that -having spent time here- you are less likely to continue the criminal activity that led you to be sent here?"

"Huh? Oh, ah, yeah. Totally. Learned my lesson. Straight and narrow from now on."

Medphyll smiles. "I'm glad to hear it." He rises from his chair. "Governor, I believe that we are finished with Mister Biist."

The door we entered through reopens, while the metal clamps attaching Mister Biist to the table by his arms remain in place. Medphyll leads the way out to where the governor is waiting. The gold bordering is present again, this time wrapping around the interrogation chamber. I have my suspicions, but the room was fully cleansed before Mister Biist was placed in there so I couldn't detect any biological matter.

Medphyll nods to the governor as I -apparently accidentally- brush against him. I might not be able to transmit messages to green power rings, but I can send a filament through his environmental shield and manually vibrate his ear drum. And I feel the slight pressure as he does the same.

It seemed to me that he was afraid.

"He said nothing to substantiate the allegations."

I assume that you saw something of note?

The governor makes a gesture, tapping his fingers against his palms. "I am pleased that he has learned honesty during his time here. Do you wish to speak with any further prisoners?"

He saw a Dominator with a large red spot on his forehead accompany the guards who removed Reshulp. Dominators don't normally enter the prisoner areas themselves, and I haven't seen a high caste Dominator since we got here. They should be even more reluctant than the others to enter prisoner areas.

"No, I think that we have a reasonable overview. If you could show us your medical facilities, we will have seen enough to conclude our investigation in your favour."

That isn't proof.

We were never going to find a blood-covered scalpel, Medphyll. High caste Dominators are virtually all scientists. The fact that they're even on a prison is extremely suspicious.

"Certainly. You will find that the prisoner medical ward is the finest in any prison in this Sector."

"I am sure that you are right. I was referring to the Dominator medical chambers." The governor pulls his neck in slightly. Dismay. "If the accusations were true I doubt very much that any studies would have been performed in the prisoner medical ward. Unless you have it equipped for research as well?"

I could try using my plant manipulation abilities to read their records. Once we're closer.

"We.. do not. I will make the request to the high ones. I cannot order them to aid you, but they may decide to in the interests of good working relations."

You were able to infect Mister Biist with the smart algae?

I'd rather you didn't put it like that, but yes.

"We will be quite happy to await their convenience, of course."

"Remain here." The governor turns, heading in the direction of the command centre.

"Thank you."

Have you given much though to what we do if Vril Dox the Second is not here but experiments are taking place?

Wreck the place, evacuate the inmates and.. let the Guardians deal with any surviving Dominators? I'll want any information which could assist me in locating him, but other than that I'd be happy to follow your lead.

I am glad that you said that. Compelling you would have been awkward.

He breaks contact, walking after the governor.

10th August
17:02 GMT

The Dominator medical facilities are extensive, far more than would ordinarily be required for a garrison of this size. Even one that was trying to prepare itself for the possibility of an armed prisoner revolt. The general layout reminds me of what Tront had on Hny'xx. Efficient. Tidy. Clean.

Suspicious.

Medphyll raises his ring to scan one of the devices, a medium sized tank with complex computer systems attached. "An ultra definition flesh lathe?"

The governor hasn't been entirely at ease since we got here. I don't think he needs to worry about his superiors, though. They've been about five decks down since they received his request. He also doesn't need to worry about us detecting any residue. It was painfully apparent to me that the whole place has been aggressively sterilised. I don't even think they did this for us. I think that Dominator ritual purity just requires it as the default.

"I am not a physician."

"I am a little surprised to find one in a prison medical facility."

"It is not my place to question the high caste's decisions. In the event that I am so injured as to require it, I will be grateful."

Inasmuch as I can read him, I think he's being honest. While ultra definition flesh lathes can be used medicinally, they only really make sense for reconstructing a portion of someone's brain, and that's only if you have an ultra definition scan to base it on. Otherwise, more mundane, cheaper and more reliable techniques are used instead just about everywhere. Flesh knitted together by a lathe doesn't have the sort of automatic correction as 'naturally grown' tissue. Lathes usually have quite a high error rate, which isn't much help if someone is waiting for a transplant. I suppose… If someone was willing to throw money at a place, having a hundred or so of them working on the same thing would guarantee getting a useable component… But this lab only has one.

Which means that it's almost certainly being used for destructive analysis. Taking things apart and recording exactly what went where. There have been enough notable cases of the leaders of crime syndicates using them to dissect failed rivals that a lot of civilised worlds restrict their sale and use. Similarly, all of this analytical equipment has legitimate uses. In a major research hospital or university that dealt with dangerous diseases afflicting hundreds of species. Seeing it in a facility attached to a prison…

Still no smoking gun. Or bloody scalpel. Still, there are a few other things for us to try.

I've spent not a little time trying to work out what the best way to convince Vril Dox II to go along with my idea might be. I know that after breaking out in the comics he started the Licensed Extra-Governmental Interstellar Operatives Network, and I think I remember him being involved in removing the Computer Tyrants afterwards. I know that he hates his father with a fiery passion he displays in no other aspect of his life. So I've been assuming that offering him the resources he needs in order to make those things easier would be sufficient. But the core aspect is the revenge against his father for lowering his intelligence and treating him as a lab rat.

"What's down this way?"

I point to a corridor leading off the main laboratory towards the outer hull.

"A store room and an analytics computer. You are welcome to examine it if you wish."

I nod and amble off down the indicated corridor. The Dominators might not have standard humanoid body language, but I'd be a fool to think that they haven't learned to interpret it. I don't particularly want him to call in a squad of soldiers before we actually get anything concrete.

Oh, listen to the man who dropped the Citadel Complex on a cloning factory being all diplomatic.

The door on my right opens, revealing a computer system different to but recognisable as being related to the ones now being examined by the inhabitants of J. There are comfortable seats, work stations and a holotank for the high caste Dominators who work in here.

And there's a glowing orange shape filled with dying robots on the other side of that wall.

I wave my ring around the room, scanning for any other incongruities. Nothing. I hold out my right hand and generate a model of Starlag, blowing up the area I'm standing in… No, this should be the last room before the hull. And this image is generated based on my own observations, not on the 'official' schematics. I didn't see anyone stuck outside of the station either.

Curious.

I turn my head towards the door. "Lantern Medphyll! Governor! Do you have a moment?!"

Medphyll flies around the corner, not at an unseemly speed but with reasonable haste. "Have you found something?"

"I believe that I've found what I'm looking for."

He takes a moment to look around the room. "Where?"

I shake my head. "Use your… Exotic detection."

His ring shimmers for a moment, and he looks in the direction I was looking in a moment ago. "I see. You're certain?"

"No, but the balance of probability-" The governor walks into the room at a sedate pace. "-is in my favour. Governor, what's through that wall?"

He raises his right arm and presses a button on his wrist-mounted personal computer with his left forefinger. "The wall itself has numerous protective layers. Some wiring. Then the external armour layer. The original plan incorporated a weapon module at that location, but that was not included when this station was assigned for use as a prison."

"Are there any work crews outside there at the moment?"

Another button press. "No."

"I see." Orange filaments launch from my body and latch themselves to the wall in an oval. "So if I ripped a hole through here..?"

"You would be forcibly ejected from this prison. The prison would be unharmed as the hull is designed to withstand such damage."

I shift the end of the filaments into crumbler constructs. "Good-oh."

An oval of the wall dissolves, the centre section collapsing inwards a moment later. And through the gap…

Another room.

A man sits in a chair, naked but for the machinery I assume is designed to deal with his waste products and the cybernetic.. thing attached to his head. His skin is Coluan green while what I can see of his head is shaved bare. Wires from the cybernetic headpiece are collected into a single cable which runs into the floor, and from there my ring is now telling me they connect into the data analysis engine in the room with us.

"I was unaware of that."

Medphyll walks into the newly revealed room, visibly scanning the man with his ring. "Coluan. Locked in some sort of mental interface device." He turns back to the governor. "Explain his presence."

"Perhaps the high caste are.. working on some project with this.. volunteer. I will-."

"You are aware that the planet Colu recently underwent a violent change of government?"

"It is not the Dominion's concern which alien rules over their civilisations."

"Perhaps." Hah. "But it is the Guardians', and you know full well that they have ordered Colu isolated. If you have had any dealings with them then you have violated that order. An Honour Guard taskforce is already being prepared. It can easily stop here first on its way to Colu."

The governor regards Medphyll levelly for a moment, then taps a device on his right wrist with his left hand.

Teleportation detected.

Could jam it -the governor dissolves into a series of shimmering dots- but killing him could be an escalation and this might end up coming before the Guardians for judgement.

The moment passes and he disappears completely. Medphyll and I turn to look at one another.

"You free him and I will disrupt the computers." / "I'll free him, you disrupt the computers."

10th August
17:06 GMT

I bring my heavy armour out of subspace and generate construct armour around myself as I step up to Mister Dox and start scanning. "Though if you should happen to see an 'eject' button-."

"My control is nothing like that precise."

Ultrafine wires pierce his skull in a hundred-

Two hundred and fifty six.

-places, thank you, and interface with various parts of his brain. My relief that they didn't just extract his brain and stick it in a tank or something is tempered by the realisation that I'm really not sure what to do here. I have good data on general Coluan physiology, courtesy of Ms Gozzi. I know what bits the Dominators have plugged their machine into. I also have dozens of types of mental interface technology on file. What I don't have is anything on this specific set up. While -in theory- cutting the link between the intrusion filaments and the main system as a first step and removing the filaments as the second is a sound plan, I don't have any way to know exactly what I'm doing where brain repairs are concerned.

And Dox's brain is kind of the point of him.

Okay, ring, interface with the device and monitor for unusual activity. I don't want a kill switch being activated.

Compliance. Warning: this ring is uncertain that it could identify such a signal.

Just do your best.

Right. Nothing… Obviously kill switchy. No implanted explosives or anything like that. Of course, there's nothing special about computers made of soggy sacks of meat that makes them immune to data infections-.

Partially visible waves of green light radiate out from Medphyll's ring. As I study the points where the brain interface connects with Dox's neurons there's a slight change in the background noises of the station. The lights don't go off and the artificial gravity keeps working, but something just stopped. I guess their sonic masking wasn't covering everything.

Hm. This isn't going to require a huge amount of power, so…

"Jamming teleportation."

"Unnecessary. This station is designed to be hostile to teleportation. They can recall their staff but nothing more. Otherwise an attacker would be able to do the same. And with their main computers down I doubt that they'll risk it."

"All the same…"

Okay, I… I don't know how his brain encodes data but I do know what physical damage looks like and I can repair it-.

Hang on. That.. part appears to be hijacking his sense of touch. It's actually.. relatively simply to tell which filament is subverting what. Between myself, Medphyll and Dox the most intelligent of us is Dox by a mile. He also almost certainly knows more about his own physiology than I do. So I could tweak his nerves in a code I'm confident he could understand. And if he focused his desires in just the right way he could give me feedback without breaking out…

"Based on standard response times, I imagine that the Okaarans will be here shortly."

"I can fight and fix at the same time. Any idea how easy it is for the Dominators to undo what you're doing to their computers?"

"It should be impossible. At least, without one of their sorcerers being physically present."

I nod, sending Praexis Demons… And the Ophidian's Saremite… Out through the corridor, spreading out across this level. We're cutting the high caste Dominators off from the rest of their forces, though I'll need to send Construct Lanterns outside to completely cut them off. Doors appear to have lost power, though the Praexis can still eat through them, given time. The way they do so involves them protruding their stomachs Starfish-style out through their mouths, but at this point I'm rather hardened to that sort of thing. I feel a momentary flash of dislocation as one cluster encounters an Okaaran strike team, the leading Okaaran smashing through the Praexis Demons with his maul.

My eyes move briefly to Medphyll, then I mentally order the horde not to kill anyone.

A tiny film of orange light takes hold of the filaments lying to Dox about what his left forearm is feeling and slowly consumes them, making sure to repair anything that might strictly be regarded as damage as it does so. Nothing like one hundred percent, but the best I can manage. Done? I try tapping his arm a couple of times and get the response from his brain that I would expect. A few odd flares in other places… He shouldn't be experiencing anything more than slight numbness. If he's even noticing it.

Alright, start tapping. There simply aren't enough nerve endings in that part of his body to use some of the more sophisticated Coluan coding systems… I'm going to have to limit myself to six points of contact. Not a problem. Ms Gozzi was quite clear that any Coluan can process data at a rate that makes the rest of us look simpleminded. Go fast. Basic biographic information. Ugh, there are more than a few filaments going into his long term memory. He might not even know who he is at the moment. Can't be helped. Explain the situation, state where we are and who we are… Lanterns, don't specify colour. He probably hasn't heard of Sinestro and so assumes that green is the only colour there is. Describe the nature of the interface. Request that he form a clear emotional reaction-. No, specifically, ask him to desire a particular resolution.

Send.

Compliance.

The Praexis Demons are pushing the Okaarans back. The first response team were led by guards with heavy duty energy shields, but the rest just have regular shielding and mauls. Good against prisoners or even most professional soldiers. Barely adequate against Lanterns. The Praexis Demons are sucking the power out of their equipment with a fury, being destroyed and reforming as the push stumbles and fails. The Saremite… I don't have the same precision of feedback. I think he's obeying my instruction and cutting off the high caste…

There's a minor change in the patterns of activity in Dox's brain. Ah… Not sure what it means. A minor twitch towards fear, coupled with flashes of images from what I assume to be his childhood. This sort of setup isn't entirely new to him. Oh, thanks, it looks like he's more afraid of bungling surgeons than he is of being held prisoner. Well if you'd like to give me some direction-.

Communicated.

No, don't-. Okay, okay, explain… Complete precision but an incomplete understanding of the technology. I can probably pull it all out and fix the obvious damage. I don't have the ability to override the computer…

I take a moment to check the analysis engine. No, not alive enough for assimilation.

But if he can clearly want me to do something in particular, I'll do that instead.

In the corridors the Okaarans are pulling back, missing most of their equipment. In the distance I can see the dull tones of a group of Dominators. Soldiers, presumably.

A shift in Dox's emotional state. Come on, come on, some sort of clear… Alright, the image shows… Sleep? Unconsciousness? Okay, then… An image of a glowing sword cutting a thick cable. Then an image of a hose being yanked out and the site of the puncture being clamped. Sleep, cutting, yanking. The desire pulses repeat and float around one another.

Okay. Can do.

As far as sleep is concerned, Coluan brains work the same as those of other humanoids. A slight change in chemistry… Okay, and I think he's working on that himself. Some sort of meditative technique to change his brainwave patterns. Right, he's out. Next, take a very strong grip on the cables at both ends and take out an x-ionised knife.

Don't pray to Eris because that sort of thing never works out well.

Cut.

The filaments in his brain immediately go dead. Can't.. see anything that looks obviously like a kill switch activation. This part of the system doesn't have its own power supply… Right, start removing them. Long term memory first, knitting back the miniscule holes in his grey matter as I go. Then his sensory-.

My Praexis Demons get a momentary clear view of two advancing Dominator soldiers, then the feed cuts out.

I can't feel them any more and they're not emerging from my ring.

Work faster.

10th August
17:09 GMT

The last few filaments evaporate, and I turn to look at Medphyll. "Good news, Dox is out of the machine and in reasonable health. Bad news, Dominator soldiers are heading this way with anti-construct guns."

"I have been considering the device that was holding him."

I give Mister Dox another once-over. There are tiny, well healed scars across most of his body and.. slight damage to the nerves of his right hand. Assuming that my memories of his comic history are accurate on the subject of his upbringing, they're the residue of a childhood as a test subject. Certainly, none of them are recent and so the Dominators probably aren't to blame. Signs of exhaustion, but nothing obviously dangerous… "Is that important?"

"The treaties which the Dominators signed with the worlds in this Sector do not permit this sort of experimentation. Nor do they allow them to have dealings with the Computer Tyrants. I have taken the liberty of passing that information on to this Sector's Green Lanterns."

"And that helps us how?"

Another trio of Praexis demons vanish. I redirect the rest to home in on the high castes, with just a few keeping an eye on the oncoming soldiers.

"The Honour Guard taskforce is heading here now. Regardless of what happens to us, the Dominators will no longer have a facility here tomorrow."

"I'll say it again: and that helps-?"

"Any Dominator still here when they arrive will be placed in the Sciencells, either permanently or to eventually be returned to their people in exchange for political concessions. The Dominators know this. They also know that since I ruined their computers anything the high caste have learned exists only in their minds. And should they fall into the Guardians' hands that knowledge will certainly be stripped from them."

"I didn't think the Guardians were telepathic."

"At their level of skill with the green light, I doubt that their natural abilities matter."

A Praexis Demon dodges several red bolts… Nothing about them on file.

"So, what? We-."

"Grab the high caste…" Vril Dox pushes himself into a sitting position. "And you can negotiate your escape."

"Are you alri-?"

He winces. "The answer to that question would not change whether you asked it or not. Please do not waste my concentr-."

"My data on Coluan physiology is not perfect. Are you aware of anything about your body that isn't-."

"Nothing of particular note." He looks around. "Have you located the high caste?"

"Yes, but I can't phase through their walls or teleport, and shooting-."

"What force are they sending?"

"At least twelve Dominator guards with construct-."

"Do you have any non-construct-based weapons?" I take a cold gun out of subspace and hold it out to him. He frowns very slightly at me. "I am in no mental condition to take part in a firefight." I shrug and take it back. "Will it kill Dominator soldiers?"

"Should do."

"Have you tested it against them?"

"No."

He switches his attention to Medphyll. "How long until the other Green Lanterns arrive?"

"Seven minutes to reach the outer defences. I don't know what proportion still function at anything like full effectiveness, so perhaps-."

"The minefields and shield generators won't be affected by their central computer being off-line, and their emplaced weapons will still be capable of firing. Cut though the deck in the direction of the high caste."

"I'm so-?"

"Do I really have to explain-? You want to survive with as many Dominators in custody as possible. The best way to achieve that is to capture the high caste as fast as possible. The Dominators will attempt to evacuate them, then kill you. They know that you will have-."

I generate a railgun construct, load crumblers-.

"A simple railgun won't work. You need-."

I aim at the floor and fire, a hole about forty centimetres across appearing in the deck. Sadly the crumble effect falls off rather substantially ten centimetres down. Coverage from the Praexis is getting patchy. The majority of soldiers appear to be avoiding us, but four are cautiously heading our way. Praexis Demons heading for the high caste are being intercepted by force fields…

"Disassembler rounds?"

"Sort of. Medphyll, shie-."

A flicker of motion as a small grey thing flies into the corridor just outside our room. Medphyll throws out a blast of green light, smashing it against the far wall. He then takes a pouch from his utility harness and throws the faintly green contents into the air before blowing them out of the room with a construct fan. "I will watch our backs."

I form more railguns and load more crumblers. Ring, calculate optimal firing pattern, update as more data is gained.

Compliance.

Fire.

These aren't exactly high-powered constructs. Heck, that was why I started using railguns in the first place: so that I could fight at high effectiveness with lower construct strength. Using the larger sort of crumbler round with shots timed and spaced and the crumbler fields trained for low width high penetration, it takes twelve shots to blast a hole through the three armoured layers on this side, another three to get through the inner workings and a further twelve to get through the three armoured layers of the ceiling of the level beneath.

Medphyll deploys a point defence construct in response to more drones, thin lines of green piercing them before they can close the distance and do whatever they're supposed to do to us. I suspect that the infantry are advancing but I've lost the remaining Praexis Demons in that area.

No need to physically move down to the next level, so I keep firing. Ah, good, the Praexis have closed off an egress point. The high caste are moving… Another layer penetrated. Internal monitoring should be down and most of my Praexis Demons are well ahead of the Dominator soldiers. How do they know? Personal sensors of some kind? They're familiar with Green Lanterns. Did they think that some sort of a raid was sufficiently probable that it was worth preparing defences against?

Another floor gone. It's hard to get precise distance, but I think that they're another four down.

Flashes of red from the doorway as I alter my angle, shooting a hole into the next floor.

"I assume that we can't just transition around?"

"If it were that simple then I would have recommended it already."

"Mister Dox." Another hole made. "We need to-"

A Dominator soldier steps into the doorway, shots from Medphyll's defence construct being neutralised by a red energy field which flares to life around his body when one hits. He raises his arm-mounted gun.

"-g-!"

There's a thump as Dox lands one level down and starts for the next hole, Medphyll hot on his heels.

Then the Dominator shoots me.

10th August
17:12 GMT

Time slows.

Much like what I tried to do to Nabu, draining a construct of energy entirely will destroy it. That might be how these things killed the Praexis Demons; there just wasn't enough of them to return to the ring.

I keep firing at the floor, smashing my way through another level of the station.

A construct barrier starts to form between myself and the Dominator soldier. It… Yes, it's just about going to coalesce before the bolt of red light hits me. Now, these weapons dropped Medphyll's barrier handily enough but didn't drain his ring at the same time. Or affect his environmental shield. That suggests that it destroys one construct at a time, in the same way that my crumblers do.

Weapon constructs begin appearing alongside me, a cold gun and a railgun.

Dox stumbles for a moment, then sidesteps Medphyll's attempt to support him.

The red bolt howowow!

The construct barrier fails, fading for a fraction of a second before vanishing entirely. Unlike with crumbler rounds, what's left of the bolt keeps going and hits my ablative construct armour. Two layers fail before the bolt vanishes entirely.

And the whole process really hurts!

That's logical, I suppose. I mean, I've got no idea how that mechanism works but intense pain would probably disrupt Green Lantern concentration and therefore their ability to fight effectively. All it does to me is encourage me to dismiss lower lethality options completely.

I start moving to the side as the second bolt gets closer and my railguns fire the shots that will burrow through the next floor when they hit. The red bolt heading my way is currently resisting my ring's attempts to analyse it, which makes a degree of sense. I mean, I've got its thermal and electromagnetic output recorded (it's only weakly interacting with dust and air molecules so it isn't plasma) but I've got no real idea about how it actually works. Or whether my armour can take it.

The second bolt hits, though since I know to turn down my pain response it hurts a good deal less. I think the Dominator soldier is aiming for my centre of mass rather than any particular part of my body. Certainly the shots are going nowhere near the filaments connected to the tunnelling railguns. And I know that he's a dick but I do need to do something nice for Mister Tuttle, these things are insanely useful. My outer ablative layers fail over the left side of my armour's abdomen and I really don't want to try taking more hits there.

Mental pathway damage limit reached. Acceleration discontinued.

Fortunately I don't have to.

The railgun fires, targeting the Dominator's centre of mass.

The cold gun fires, aiming a little lower.

I fly sideways at speed, the third red bolt narrowly missing my armour as the Dominator comes further into the room and a second one comes through the doorway behind him.

The crumbler round hits home as I keep flying, causing his personal shield to flare and undulate. Holding but weakened. The cold beam has rather more effect, making the shield -some sort of plasma shell?- visibly fail, though the armour appears to be thermally insulated enough that the cold effect doesn't kill the wearer immediately. However, I can see hoarfrost appear on the outer surface and the Dominator wearing it stumbles. The next crumbler round strikes his breastplate unobstructed, releasing energy in the fashion I've become accustomed to as the crumble field interacts destructively with whatever super advanced material that armour is made from.

And with the flesh beneath.

The Dominator falls as the second charges into the room. I take a hit to my right shoulder as I retrain the guns, aiming the cold gun-.

I fall to the ground as a wave of red energy passes through the room. Constructs failed, armour still functional. My legs thump heavily on the deck as I trigger automatic targeting, my right arm coming up and firing the manual cold gun at the Dominator's head. A red bolt hits my faceplate at the same time-. Something about my kinetic barrier causes it to fail to do very much. Good to know, I'll give spares to Medphyll and Dox when I have a moment. The cold beam strikes home, collapsing his shield and making the soldier fall to the ground. Colours… Not disappearing. I take a moment to fire crumblers at both of their guns and then use the armour's built-in flight systems to head down the hole.

I land heavily-

"Keep firing!"

-on the deck and immediately get heckled. Ring, status?

This ring is undamaged. Power reserves currently at seventy three percent.

Bit.. much for a couple of guns and construct armour. I'll have to keep an eye on that. I generate two new railgun constructs and point them down the next hole, while flicking the cold gun in my hand over to 'cold zone generation'. One shot back into the room above me, one at the hole and one at each end of the corridor. Given how good their armour's insulation appeared to be I'm not sure that will actually harm the Dominator infantry, but hopefully it will slow them down. Shoving the construct railguns further forward I amble over to the next hole and step down, landing with a slight flare of my kinetic barrier.

What are the Praexis Demons up to? Okay, yes, heading in the right general direction-. I feel several blink out in the direction… Yes, most likely Dominator soldiers attempting-

"This would be faster if you joined in."

"Railgun-fired super projectiles are not standard issue."

"Then at least-."

"I am attempting to gain better access to their computers. Splitting my concentration-."

"Fine."

Down again, the other two a couple of decks ahead of me. Defensive cold fields deployed. And again…

"Nearly there! Medphyll-."

"Pass me a freeze ray!"

I branch a filament off a construct railgun and use it to deploy a cold gun from subspace into his waiting left hand. Down again, and through the ruined decking I get brief glimpses of my colleagues. Medphyll's glowing.. reasonably, and Dox is at least moving under his own power.

"Orange Lantern, can you tell where the nearest soldiers are!?"

"Not reliably. They're destroying my Demons." Down again, this time dropping two levels. "But the Dominators-."

"Stop firing!"

I cease firing my railguns, dropping down another level to come face to face with Medphyll and Dox. "Why? We're nearly there."

"Because we're close to the hull here."

"Yes?"

He winces, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "While I am perfectly capable of ignoring minor injuries, Coluans have no special ability to survive a vacuum while naked. Any halfway competent commander-."

A grey and somewhat frozen drone falls to the ground just behind me.

I attach a filament to Dox as the ceiling explodes!

10th August
17:14 GMT

A glowing green barrier appears between us and the outside of the station as the follow up shots slam into our position. Dox looks exceedingly tense for a instant before he spots that he's now covered in an environmental shield. The weapons they're shooting at us are standard particle cannons rather than whatever that red thing was. I…

Right, he's the wrong shape for-.

A space suit forms around Dox, then I shove him out of the way and ready cold gun constructs. Three of the small patrol ships I saw coming in are floating about two kilometres away, firing in sequence. The governor must have dropped shields around this part of the station. Or they failed due to Medphyll's actions. Actually, the shots are-

Another shot splashes against Medphyll's barrier. He glances at me and moves it slightly to the side so that I can fire past it.

-coming far slower than my database says they should be. I imagine that they're having to calculate and aim the shots manually rather than use a targeting computer.

Take aim. Fire. The cold gun beams cover the intervening distance in next to no time,-

"Why are you-"

-passing through their shields and supercooling-

"-attacking them? They have hundreds-"

-their armour. Since there's no real kinetic energy involved in the strike the patrol boat just stays there-

"-of those ships and they won't dare fire if-"

-but I can scan the fried interior systems and the frozen pilot.

"-we were in close proximity-"

Medphyll moves his barrier and I shoot at the next two ships.

"-to the high-."

"High caste, yes, Dox, I had considered the issue. I had also considered the issue that with the central computer down they wouldn't know-."

"They don't need to. Starlag's armour will fail without being penetrated after one hit. If the high caste are inside they could send a signal out without using the central systems!"

I spot another squadron of patrol ships heading our way as the two I fired upon start drifting. "Are you sure about that?"

"To a high degree of probability, yes!"

"Fair enough. Medphyll, can you hold that barrier?"

"That depends on whether you wish to repressurise this corridor or not."

"Mister Dox? Do high caste Dominators keep breathing equipment on hand?"

He turns away, taking hold of a piece of debris and throwing it down the corridor away from us. It travels about six metres before it encounters an atmosphere barrier. The air on the far side is still breathable while we're exposed to space. "This whole section has that system. It probably isn't working where you've punched holes-."

"Understood."

Alright, based on the sections I've seen -both personally and via the Praexis Demons- the atmosphere barrier would probably be-.

Somewhere around the stem of the station other patrol boats fire at the hull. Moments later a Praexis Demon falls out of my ring and I get a flash of what happened. The Dominators have sent drones ahead of the soldiers, but since they don't have any arcane presence the Praexis don't instinctively react to them.

Whatever else is happening, the high caste are two sections below us and in more or less the same place and none of the Praexis Demons can see any soldiers closer to them than we are. Railguns and fire.

Another particle beam shot splashes off Medphyll's shield. "Medphyll, are you alright with that?"

"Yes, though I have abandoned my efforts at complex manipulation of the Dominators' systems."

"Fine." A circular section of the deck falls down to the level below us. "Ready to move?"

"After you."

I nod inside my armour, then send the recently returned Praexis Demon through first. It drops down… Another store room. No Dominators in sight and if there are any automated defences they aren't activating. Good show. Two paces and then I jump down, taking an x-ionised blade out of subspace as I go. Minimal atmosphere left, but the room still has gravity and one atmosphere of pressure isn't really enough to move any properly secured object. I slice through the side of the closest box… Looks like.. some sort of noodles. I suppose it makes sense that 'ritual purity' would require separate food storage.

"Clear. Ready to shoot down again."

Dox peers down the hole, then turns and lowers himself from the rim before dropping the rest of the way. "Down."

Hm. Ugh, cold fields don't persist in pure vacuums. The walls where I shot will still be super cooled but I doubt that will stop anyone. Not much point creating another. I add another four railguns to my construct and point them at the floor below us. "Medphyll?"

The green glow from above us intensifies as Medphyll moves away from the exterior hole. He floats over the hole for a moment then drops down, his barrier at the ready for when the patrol boats try shooting through the exterior wall again. "Ready."

"Firing."

Hm. The lack of air might actually improve our odds of them not detecting us. Crumblers eating deck plate isn't quiet, but without air around sound will only be transmitted through the deck itself. Didn't actually think to test that. And on that subject, a filament attaches itself to Dox's suit and gives him a kinetic belt.

"What is this?"

"Terminan technology. Completely nullifies kinetic energy. And lets you fly, though if you haven't practised with-."

"I will manage. Why not give me a standard force field?"

"Because my kinetic barrier stopped those red pulses dead and from what I've seen all of the Dominator soldiers are carrying them." The deck plate is almost gone. "Medphyll, you're on rearguard. Make sure Dox survives."

"I remember."

There's a final puff of air as the last circle of deck plate falls free and I form a construct impeller on the back of my construct armour to shove me forwards faster, blasting through the hole and into the corridor below us. The high caste are actually a good deal further in than we are, and there are several doors between here and there. On the plus side, at this point they're surrounded on all sides by Praexis Demons.

I fly straight on, then around a corner and open fire with crumblers and cold gun. Though armoured and shielded, the blast doors are far less thick than an entire deck. The force field doesn't even trigger as the cold beam hits the metal beyond, and it collapses as soon as the first crumbler hits home. The crumblers weaken the structure enough that I don't bother slowing down. I just manually trigger my kinetic barrier and slam into it fists first, exploding a ragged chunk of it into the room beyond.

The Dominators inside raise their weapons as the air wafts out.

10th August
17:17 GMT

Purple and black robes, larger red spots on their foreheads -which are bare of any adornment- and respirator facemasks which cover their eyes and mouths. Dominator bodies are notably better at dealing with low pressure environments than those of Humans but I doubt that this is comfortable for them. It's a little surprising that they don't have personal environmental shields… I suppose they assumed that they could teleport such devices to them in the event of an attack.

I generate an ablative shield-construct between myself and them, and instruct the ring to connect to their personal communicators. "Parley."

All five keep their guns pointing at me, and two activate personal force shields. Literal shields, ovals generated by devices on their left wrists.

"Speak."

The respondent is a Dominator with a small vertical line in the upper part of his red spot. The senior one, presumably.

"If you'll lower your weapons I'll restore atmosphere to this chamber. I imagine-."

"Agreed. We will lower weapons once atmosphere is restored."

Not quite what I said, but alright. I generate a construct airlock to cover the hole behind me, then take nitrogen and oxygen gas cylinders out of subspace and open them. Four to one ratio should be fine, though-. Ah, the automated systems are designed not to bother trying to repressurise an area exposed to vacuum. That makes sense. Once it detects that pressure has been restored it should start up on its own.

"Good enough?"

They maintain aim for a few seconds, then simultaneously lower them.

"You were permitted to board this facility to investigate rumours of medical experimentation. None has taken place. Explain why you have attacked us."

"Two main reasons. Firstly, no experimentation? I found a man with virtual reality brain implants a few decks up. Were they there for legitimate medical reasons? Because I read your treaties with the worlds that authorised this place, and there's nothing about using anything like that to punish misbehaviour."

"It is a special case."

"Really. Because as I see it there are two possibilities. Either, you've violated your terms of reference, or -moving on to the second point here- you've come to an alternative agreement with the Computer Tyrants of Colu. Which would mean that the punishment was legitimate, but would get you in a great deal of trouble with the Green Lantern Corps because that world is under an Edict of Isolation for a very good reason."

"The subject of the study is legally 'property' and as such not a prisoner. Furthermore, regardless of their species they were acquired without contact with-."

"Do you really think that admitting to trading in slaves makes your situation any better? And do you really think I can't recognise Vril Dox the Second? Or that I don't have a recording of a Coluan ship flying here?" I make eye contact with each Dominator in turn. "You've been caught out. The faster you accept that and start negotiating in good faith, the faster we can all get on with our lives."

"Hshshshshs." The Dominator's eyes narrow slightly. "What terms do you seek?"

Ring, connect to internal communications.

Compliance.

I stop projecting my construct shield and extend a filament to the lead Dominator's facemask. "Tell the governor to stand down pending negotiations."

"Release your hold on our computer-."

I shake my head. "That's not happening. I don't know this station's full capacities but I'm certainly not returning them to you. Tell him to stand down."

The Dominator stares at me for several seconds, and I see Medphyll approaching with Dox.. flying quite well for a beginner. I open the outer airlock door to allow them access.

"Inferior functionary. We are unharmed. You will return any militia to their stations and begin repairs."

"Superior, I must warn you that-."

"The Lanterns are no longer your proper concern. Address yourself to your duties."

"I obey."

The high caste opposite me waves his right hand through the filament, and I let it fade rather than reinforcing it. "What else?"

Medphyll and Dox are inside the airlock, so I begin cycling it. Have..? Yes, the station's systems have started replenishing the atmosphere in this room. I return the gas cylinders to subspace.

"You've got a bit of a choice to make. My colleague Medphyll-" I indicate him with my right arm as he comes in through the inner door of the airlock. "-is a dedicated and extremely moral Green Lantern. If you like, you can surrender to him. If you do that, you will be invited to make full confession and then you will be punished in whatever way the Guardians think best. Most likely, you'll be spending a few decades in the Sciencells. That about right?"

"It would depend on the results of a more exhaustive investigation than we have so far performed. If convicted, you may receive a sentence of between thirty years and the remainder of your life. There would also be an element of re-education, and positive steps you make towards addressing the defects in your character that have led you to commit these acts would most likely be taken into account when deciding your tariff."

"Or they might sell you back to the Dominion in exchange for political concessions. They don't mind the Dominion running prisons, but… You know that you crossed the line here, right?"

"What is the alternative?"

"You could surrender to me. But I wouldn't recommend that." Ah, finally. The door on the other side of the room begins deforming, then a Praexis Demon falls mouth first through the resulting hole. The Saremite walks through immediately after, bending awkwardly through the gap and then standing up straight. "Unfortunately, the Orange Lantern Corps' facilities aren't ready for prisoners as yet. So far I've… Had to administer summary justice. One group of traders won't ever leave the world where I marooned them. And a group of soldiers I mind controlled… They wouldn't take a chance when it was offered to them, so I had all eight hundred gunned down. In your case, given the nature of your crimes, I imagine that I'll do that to at least some of you."

The lead high caste Dominator stares at the Saremite. "What is that?"

"It used to be a living creature. Then it invaded my home, and I horribly violated its body, mind and soul. Now, it's a construct, and everything it ever was or knew exists only as part of me. Quite a good deal for me in your case; I imagine that there are all sorts of things which a high caste Dominator researcher would know that haven't made it into the public domain yet. Or perhaps I could do something a little less invasive? Just reach into your soul and rearrange your priorities a little? How would you like to have your loyalty to the Dominion replaced by loyalty to… A local prisoner rehabilitation charity, perhaps?"

"We could kill you."

"I'd have given you reasonable odds if your computer was still working. As it is, the Green Lantern Honour Guard taskforce that was planning on heading to Colu is coming here. And you'll certainly become my pawns before I die. How far do you want to escalate this?"

The Dominator continues to stare at me for several moments.

Then he turns away from me to face Medphyll. "Green Lantern. I require you to take us into custody."

10th August
21:56 GMT

"In forest dark or glade beferned
no blade of grass shall go unturned.
Let those who have the daylight spurned
tread not where this green lamp has burned."

The Dominators stand in order of caste in the cube construct which the Green Lanterns are going to use for the journey back to Oa. All of them are refusing to even acknowledge that the Lanterns are there, eyes front without the slightest deviation or uncertainty. Kind of impressive. Lantern Lee turns towards the viewing window I'm watching them through, taking the opportunity to give me the evils one more time before he and the three others he assigned to prisoner transfer duty vanish in a wave of green.

Next to me Medphyll lowers his right arm as he returns his personal lantern to subspace. "I was pleasantly surprised at how you handled the conclusion."

"What, did you think I was just going to shoot them?"

"While we won't know for sure until their debriefing is complete, I expect that high caste Dominators have committed unique and imaginative evils beyond the ken of mere pirate thugs."

I nod. "I can chase after them if you want."

"I was wondering if you could explain why you decided to treat them differently."

"Hmm."

I look over to the asteroids, where a Green Lantern whose name I didn't hear is replacing the Okaaran gang master in watching over the prisoners. Perhaps part of the reason why Lantern Lee isn't all that impressed with me is that they're going to have to take over running this facility until they can either find someone else to handle it or get the resources together for a marooning colony.

"The obvious reason is that this was a joint operation. Orange Lanterns and Green Lanterns are going to need to be able to cooperate in the future, so I wasn't going to do anything to unnecessarily alienate you. The Dominion is still a going concern, and simply executing a group of their elites could… Probably would cause all sorts of blowback."

"Where the summary executions of eight hundred members of a military you have already largely destroyed would not."

"Not more than killing the half-million or so that died when we destroyed most of their fleet, no."

"Koriand'r did not mention the number of dead. I assumed that it was lower."

"Koriand'r is a good person. But she grew up in Vega. She's far more ruthless than you. Those died in combat, so she doesn't worry about it."

"Do you not worry about the eight hundred?"

I shake my head. "Medphyll, I'm enlightened. I have achieved harmony and peace with my desires. When I decide that I want a particular result and pursue a rational method to get that result… No. And unless you've got significant new evidence that my assessment of the feasibility of doing.. anything else with them was inaccurate… I'm not going to start worrying about it. I didn't have anyone available to guard a prison and I didn't have a prison. Low level officers are intelligent but mentally inflexible and I've yet to hear a Citadelian grunt communicate in any fashion other than a grunt or a roar. And neither has anyone else in Vega; I checked."

"Then why not simply kill all of them, or command them to kill themselves?"

I exhale. "I'm.. an empath, but what I did to control them altered their emotional responses. Until I let them go, I couldn't be completely sure how they would respond. I had hoped that they might take my offer of mercenary employment. When it turned out I was wrong… Amalak's guns were already pointing at them. What would have been the point of killing them myself?"

"The survivors?"

"Free to make lives for themselves. Or not. It was never my objective to exterminate the Citadelians completely, or I'd have attended to that before coming here. Maybe they'll turn themselves into something not completely vile. Or maybe they won't and I'll end up killing the rest too. Up to them."

His eye narrows. "All that you have said, and you are still not considering alternate custody arrangements?"

I smile. "If it troubles you, you know what you have to do." His ring glows a little brighter. "Earn such acclaim that the Guardians promote you to the Honour Guard, then request that they remove the ban on operating in Vega and send you there."

He blinks, surprised, the glow on his ring fading as his fist unclenches. "Hah!"

"No no, it's not a joke. I'm sure that.. if you put your mind to it… And do crazy things like leave your Sector without authorisation and pick a fight with the Dominion at the instigation of an Orange Lantern… The Guardians might do that rather than firing you."

"You want.. me to get promoted?"

"Yes. I don't want all Lanterns to be like me, and I don't want a Corps of yes men. If you can find a less harsh solution, then I'll say the same thing to you that I said to Koriand'r: good luck to you. I don't think there is one, but I've been wrong before and it could happen again."

"I will consider the issue." He turns away from me and looks back into the interior of the station. "This has been a… Not unpleasant change of pace."

"I'm glad you think so."

"It is fortunate, considering that Salaak has assigned me as temporary governor."

"Yes, yes it is." I step away from the window as well, walking past him in the direction of the Dominators' former command centre. "I'd offer to keep in touch, but with me barred from ring communications…"

"I will ask Koriand'r to contact you on my behalf when I return to my Sector. I hope that more of your future missions go as well as this one did, rather than as brutally as your sojourn into Vega."

I glance back as I walk up to the door. "That would be nice. Good luck with the being-surrounded-by-hardened-criminals-who-hate-you-on-principle thing."

"Thank you."

I turn away, shaking my head as I walk through the door. A short stroll takes me into the command centre where Dox is sitting at a command console, hands moving rapidly over the holographic interface. He's wearing a pink shirt, grey trousers and white boots, which he recovered from the store of his personal effects the Dominators were keeping hold of. That's… Pretty much all that was there, actually. The only other objects were a few written notes and a diadem of red disks and silver wires that he crushed as soon as he saw it.

One of the remaining Green Lanterns is here too. Partially, anyway. Five of the small green spiky balls which make up the body of Lantern… Lantern Collective. Since we can't get full control of the central computer, they are standing in for internal monitoring. Apparently, they are one of this Sector's Green Lanterns, which just goes to show that you can be a distributed intelligence with hundreds of bodies and still completely miss an evil AI taking over a planet and enslaving its population.

"Mister Dox, do you have a moment?"

He doesn't look up from his work. "You may speak."

"Looking at anything interesting?"

"Yes."

Ah, of course. This is 'minimal social experience' Dox, before he had to run Legion and learned how to pretend to be able to relate to people. And.. he has no particular reason to like or to trust me. "I have an.. offer to make you."

10th August
22:00 GMT

"Obviously."

He turns away from the screen to look at me with an expression of cold indifference. What I actually see is rather different. The colours inside him aren't faint as they are in Dominators, but… The lines are rigid, flows prevented from moving from place to place by the harsh imposition of logic. A scene of.. his father performing surgery on his right arm without anaesthetic isn't allowed to connect to other memories or guide his actions. I'm actually… This is the first time I've been worried about whether he can do the job I want to give him, at least without having some sort of breakdown part way through.

On the other hand… That technique should work just as well for orange, and he doesn't need to be an outstanding field Lantern.

"I understand that-."

"Just state your demand. I am in no position to refuse and I have little use for either obfuscation or unnecessary social interaction."

"Mister Dox, I'm not going to demand anything. It would be a violation of my personal philosophy and.. rather self defeating to demand anything of you, even if the Green Lanterns would let me." I glance at the closest ball. "Lantern Collective?"

"Inmate Vril Dox is recommended for immediate release, and is to be accommodated and protected in the intervening period."

"See?"

"I find it highly unlikely that out of all of the Dominator-run prisons in this galaxy you chose to investigate the one holding me by chance."

"No, I'm here because I was pretty sure that you were here."

"How long did you know I was here?"

"Um." I frown. "I had information which suggested that you might be in a Dominator-run prison about a year ago, but I was only able to get it authenticated twenty one days ago. After that, rushing in seemed like a bad plan, preparations took time..."

That appears to pass muster, though I can see why he might be peeved. He doesn't nod, but he does unclench very slightly.

"Would you mind me asking-?"

"Just ask."

"Your background. Would I be correct in my belief that you are a clone of Vril Dox the First, also known as Brainiac?"

"He doesn't style himself 'the First', and I imagine that the title you gave him is a crude approximation of the Coluan word. Otherwise, yes."

"And your upbringing? Cruel, harsh, somewhere between slave-assistant and test subject?"

"Yes. It is unlikely that I would be able to provide you with further data on him. After he uploaded himself he stopped acknowledging that I existed."

"Oh, I.. don't really care about him. I'm more interested in the sort of person that such an upbringing would create." I smile. "Can I assume that you hate him with a fiery passion?"

"Passion is irrational. If my objective were his destruction I would remain cold and calculating."

"But if you could make one being in the universe suffer an agonising death..?"

"I would select him."

I nod. "Glad to hear it. And may I say that -speaking as an empath- the way you compartmentalise your emotional responses is really quite impressive."

"You just did."

I smile. "What would such a person want? Presumably you've considered the fact that as a clone you would probably behave in the same way he did, given the same circumstances. But, you hate him. You want to reject everything about him. Yes?"

"It would be foolish to pretend that my genes don't exist."

"So what do you want to do, now that you're free?"

"Why are you asking what you already know? Clearly you have already reviewed what the Dominators took from my mind-."

"No. I haven't. Feel free to check with the Green Lanterns who have been continually monitoring me." He frowns. "What made you assume that?"

"The Dominators were attempting to use me to better model my father's behaviour. Since my brain is the closest thing they have to his brain, they ran me through various scenarios. In some of them I believed that I was him."

"Ah."

"In others I attempted to plan what I would do in situations like this. But you think that you already know."

"Coluans are unusually intelligent, but emotionally you mostly conform to predictable humanoid norms of behaviour. You value order and security, two things long denied to you. You have your primogenitor's intelligence and drive, but you don't want to repeat what he has done. A number of possibilities would make sense, but my first guess would be a private security firm of some kind."

He watches me for a moment. "It was a possibility."

I nod. "There are plenty of people who would pay to have certain places dealt with. The galactic economy will certainly support privateers and bounty hunters… Even mercenary armies, if you get the PR right. Bring order and justice to the region." I look directly at him. "Is that what you want?"

"You know that it is. I thought that my mental defences were better than this."

"I want to offer you an alternate approach. I can get you a lot of resources up front. Raw materials, shipyards, skilled personnel. A central power battery." That warrants a frown. "The drawback is that you wouldn't be in complete control of what the organisation did."

"Shareholders."

"A steering committee. For the project as a whole. With the Green Lantern Corps finally getting organised the fall of the Computer Tyrants is inevitable. I have another foe that needs to be fought, one with far larger holdings than a single planet. And you're the man whom I want to lead our efforts."

"Who?"

"The Reach."

His eyes unfocus slightly. "Maltus."

"Indeed."

"My father had files on the Reach. He considered them inefficient, though he was rather interested in the physiology of their Scarab Warriors." He focuses on me again. "Precisely what requisition authority would I have?"

"Whatever you can negotiate from the Controllers. Bearing in mind that they're well past the level of a scarcity-based economy and really want to beat the Reach."

"And what authority do you intend to maintain?"

"My knowledge of the safe use of the orange light is superior to that of anyone else. Presently, my intent is that I would act as the Illustres to your Clarissi. You would administer and organise; I would train, teach and lead the Corps into combat."

"And be my subordinate within the Corps." I nod. "A Lantern Corps wouldn't be enough to defeat the Reach. The Reach has anti-Lantern weaponry and combat doctrines, and the relative small size of the Green Lantern Corps suggests that recruitment is likely to be a bottleneck."

"You would be free to build a conventional fleet as well. I have a list of worlds which may be willing to provide portions of their military to act as a training cadre. Does this sound like something you want to consider?"

"I will want more data before reaching a firm conclusion. But you may consider me provisionally interested."

12th August
14:53 GMT

I look away from where Hinon is giving Dox an explanation of what a fully operational Central Power Battery is capable of, focusing my attention on the images of the Tamaranian princesses floating over my ring. "When you say 'gone', are we talking about them all performing hara-kiri, or..?"

Komand'r scowls. "Alas, no. We found abandoned sublight ships and bases… But the majority of Citadelian ships have left."

Koriand'r seems more sanguine. "Vega will be spared the harm they would have inflicted in their death throes. I do not see this as something to bemoan."

"Lantern Green Man tell you anything?"

Komand'r nods. "Yes. That he cannot be expected to be everywhere at once. He was concerned by Amalak's fleet movements-."

I nod. "And ended up being in the wrong region of space to intercept the Citadelians." Darn. Still, that should be good for Vega at least. "What are the other Vega powers doing?"

Koriand'r's face disappears, being replaced with an image of a cluster of Branx ships. "Branx consortiums have taken over salvage operations at the former site of Citadel Complex."

"Peacefully?"

Her face reappears. "With one another, yes. Others are fired upon."

"And they're not trying to muscle in on territory anywhere else?"

"They are… Marking out areas of interest. Though they are much less brutal in their dealings than the Citadel were."

"Right. I suppose we can live with that. And the Gordanians?"

"Those that are trying to seize territory are mostly fighting one another." Komand'r grins predatorily. "I considered helping the weaker groups with the aim of getting more of them killed. But when my ring nearly turned itself off I realised that I had no stomach for working alongside such creatures."

"And the Psions?"

The images of the sisters' heads turn to face one another for a moment. Then Koriand'r turns back to me and shakes her head. "Nothing. The ships that were close to the Citadel have returned to their Motherworld. We have neither seen nor heard anything about them becoming more active."

"Any good news?"

Komand'r affects a mildly strained air. "The energy barrier around Euphorix still remains in place and the Okaarans are still selling themselves to anyone with goods to trade. And we haven't heard from our brother or his friends." Koriand'r shoots her an irked glare. "Though -to be fair- we have been moving around a good deal."

I nod. "Alright. I trust you to manage the Gordanians. Let me know if you need any assistance." They nod. "Two Eight One Four out."

I close my left hand, the construct heads disappearing as I drift back towards Hinon and Dox.

"…could probably throw a ship or two together for you, but I doubt that many of us would be prepared to spend the sort of time on it that would be required to assemble a fleet capable of launching a conventional invasion."

"I was under the impression that you were better motivated."

"My good man, what is the point of having minions if you have to do all of the grunt work yourself?"

"You achieve your objectives faster and more reliably."

Hinon huffs. "Alright, yes, we could throw ships together, but it wouldn't be all that fast-."

"And do you really want to make yourself that dependent on Controller good will?"

They both turn to include me in their huddle. "Good news from Vega?"

"Things are surprisingly peaceful. I'm just not sure why."

Dox considers my previous comment. "What did you mean by that?"

"Simple. The more someone else does, the less this is your thing. The more authority you give to someone else over the enterprise. And you only have finite time. Do you want to spend it arguing with Controllers or organising the fleet production networks of the hundreds of inhabited worlds being threatened by the Reach?"

"I am surprised that they expect me to argue with them at all."

"You don't see the Guardians making ships for Green Lanterns."

"There are nine Guardians left to cover the entire universe. I doubt that they could make enough ships to be worthwhile. We will be operating over a far smaller area. I already have enough data to begin the design work but I need a fleet in the field as quickly as possible, far faster than tributary shipyards can be brought into alignment. As things stand I'm not certain that I understand what it is that the Controllers bring to this arrangement."

"If I may..?"

"Oh, go ahead. We're talking in spirals at this point anyway."

"Controller Hinon, how many Controllers have joined with the orange light so far?"

"Four. I believe that the rest are waiting to see if we go mad or explode before taking the leap."

"The point Mister Dox is making is: what's your buy-in? A conventional military force doesn't really need Controllers at all. Lanterns need you to keep the Central Power Battery in good working order and to make personal lanterns and rings. But we don't really need the thirty or so Controllers who are planning on aligning themselves with the Battery. What is the faction as a whole doing that we should want to give you authority?"

"And I take it that you expect us to engage in manual labour?"

"Needing ships into being is hardly that. My suggestion is that we agree a tariff. The Controllers agree to provide a certain amount of labour. Nothing offensive, but enough to get us in business faster and to encourage them to feel a bit proprietary about our forces."

"At the very minimum I'm going to need a large enough fleet to convince potential allies that I'm worth listening to. It would take a considerable amount of time to turn the relatively small shipyards I saw when we approached into something large enough to build such a force."

Hinon nods slowly. "I may be able to persuade them to accept such an arrangement. But it would help me immensely if I could present the final command and control structure as something that would salve their egos?"

"We're going to be doing most of our initial recruiting from the Darkstars, then from people the Controllers have already helped escape the Reach. They'll be naturally inclined to accept Controller authority. As for the.. steering committee, my thoughts were that it be formed of a group of seven individuals. Three Controllers, the Director of the Darkstars, the Clarissi, the Illustres and the commander of the conventional military organisation, whatever that ends up being called. That gives the Controllers the largest say without giving them an absolute majority."

"I thought that you recruited me to organise this endeavour."

"Certainly. You'll have two votes as Clarissi and commander, and complete control of both organisations. Except where you've agreed a compromise in exchange for something you want in return. The whole point of the exercise is that it is always better for us to cooperate than compete with one another. Things should be run by compromise and consensus rather than majority votes in any case, and as your parts of the organisation have more to offer your negotiating strength will increase."

"And that of the Controllers will tend to decrease."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"But it will hopefully nudge them into doing more in order to maintain their influence. Please note that I am not insisting. This is just a suggestion."

"One which is not without merit. So, Clarissi Dox, how exactly do you plan on starting our counterattack?"