Headhunting

14th August
19:24 GMT

I get a few odd looks as I thread my way through the streets of the imaginatively named Korugar City. Actually, its name is rather emblematic of the political problems facing the whole of the planet. It used to be called Sinestro City, and before that it was a scrubby bit of nowhere whose sole claim to fame was not being part of the territory of any of the three belligerent powers whose conflict blighted the lives of everyone living on Korugar. When Sinestro took over he had the new planetary capital built here, making a point about new beginnings and moving on from old follies. The government he set up named it in his honour, a vote of thanks from the people he saved from neutronic self-annihilation. Then, when he was arrested by Jordan and his government collapsed, the new governors all wanted to move the parliament somewhere else but couldn't agree on where. Then they sort of agreed to a rotating system where they would go from old capital to old capital, but the money wasn't in the budget and the Anti-Nationalists didn't like the way it eroded central government and the smaller nations didn't like getting excluded and all the offices of state were in Sinestro City anyway…

"Wrong time place opportunity."

So they didn't so much agree to leave it here as fail to agree on how to move it. Then came the issue of the name of the place, which clearly had to be changed. It actually stayed as Sinestro City for three years while they argued over it, the names of various national heroes being mooted and dismissed, sometimes for blatantly partisan reasons and at others because they'd done truly monstrous things against the people now being expected to use their name for the planetary capital. For a while they were just going to call it 'Capital City', but it was pointed out that aliens would probably find that confusing and the generic nature of it was just sort of silly.

So, the Anti-Nationalists suggested Korugar City. The city that serves as the planetary capital of Korugar.

Makes perfect sense.

Not a lot of aliens come to Korugar these days, and those that do tend to stick to the areas around the starport. I'm not sure exactly why, but Korugarians don't have much variation in skin tone. Unless they're wearing makeup, the red-purple is pretty much universal, and black or dark grey hair is near-universal as well. Actual grey, rather than black interspersed with white as it is for Humans. I see a few dyed hairdos, but for the most part the locals seem inclined to leave the individuality in the styling.

"Colouration skin advertisement?"

Probably a fascinating case study for a sociologist. Humans might organise themselves into groups based on physical appearances, but a society of humanoids who don't have those differences? Maybe I could dump Miss Leelyu here? Not like she needs to stay on Tamaran any longer…

"Sexual consideration."

Quite a few security officers around, and even more monitor drones. I'm putting out a weak disruption field, but that's legal as long it isn't strong enough to obscure conventional power sources or chemical residues. Korugar knows what power rings can do, and having gone two for two I doubt that the police would make an exception based on colour. Violence has -unfortunately- become a part of Korugarian political discourse since Sinestro's ejection from office, all of those who embraced the gun to fight the tyrant finding that their interests no longer coincide. And since one of the few things that the nationalists agree on is that they don't want their current Green Lanterns setting foot here, that's probably going to rumble on until either the planetary government fails or…

Heh, until the Sinestro Corps occupies the place and reunifies everyone.

"Taste debris poisoning."

Shouldn't really.. joke about that. As far as I know, Sinestro doesn't have a Corps yet and he hasn't been back here for years. But if he ever did, an awful lot of people would die.

Target in sight.

"Thank you."

Since I'm not wearing a power ring, I've got.. limited translation. I remember reading a book a while ago where it was commented on that most of the world reads the internet in broken text because the stuff they want to read is in English and as they don't understand English they use Google translate to change it to something they can read. And since no one off Earth speaks English I.. really struggled to get a commercially available translator that would work at all. I'm wearing a pair of goggles which -after a second or two- will best-fit any text I look at. English is reasonably flexible, but it's not this flexible.

And the spoken version…

"Warm animal paste cup!"

Well.

Most travellers hear the universe like this, unless they take the time to learn the local language. In an area where the same few languages get used people might fine-tune the system to something a little less stupid-sounding, but the rest of us are stuck with something rough and ready.

Or we get a power ring.

The café up ahead does a good business at this time of day. It's close to the city's largest hospital and we're just past the shift change. It's also close to the city's medical school, which means that former students who have moved on to public practice tend to come back here. Including the woman I want to recruit.

I know full well that under other circumstances she might have ended up joining the Green Lantern Corps. But this Sector has at least one perfectly capable Greenie at the moment, and as far as I can tell she wouldn't have been recruited for… Let's see, newly qualified doctor to fully qualified surgeon… Six years? Thereabouts. In the mean time, I need a chief of medicine who can heal by wanting people to be better.

She's sitting at a table, distinctive double triangle tattoo on her left cheek. She's drinking… A tea, probably. The liquid is translucent and a sort of brown-orange. She's drinking slowly and trying to wind down from the work day. The café is busy and there's a spare seat across the table from her.

And here comes the awkward bit. Because while what I say is:

"Would you mind if I sat here?"

What comes out is:

"Seat object presence?"

She looks up in mild surprise, her eyes widening slightly when she realises that I'm no Korugarian. She blinks as she masters her expression, taking a moment to study the structure of my face.

And while I suspect that she says something along the lines of: "Ah, yeah, sure."

What I actually hear is: "Uncertain, acquiescence to request."

I smile. "Thank you." That's a reasonably safe bet. I sit down opposite her and a waitress hurries in my direction.

"Ingestion query?"

I know nothing about Korugarian food. As far as I know, the only other Human to have eaten anything here is Jordan and I never asked him about it. On the other hand, Dr Natu's tea smells palatable enough. I raise my right hand and point to her mug. "Copy, please."

Already I'm simplifying my vocabulary in order to be more likely to get a sensible translation, even if I do end up sounding like an idiot. Korugarians are probably used to the idea of how these sorts of translator make you sound. I hope. The waitress seems to get the idea, nodding and walking back towards the kitchen area.

"Alien presence Korugar?"

The level of illumination here is quite good, and the café's monitoring systems aren't as good as those on the main street. I could probably get away with using the ring to translate what she says to me, but going the other way contains far too much risk that she'll spot that my mouth isn't moving in the right way to create the sounds I'm apparently using. I reach my left hand into the pocket where my ring is secreted, touching the inner surface with the tip of my middle finger. I then raise my eyebrows and give my head a small shake.

"I said, what brings you to Korugar?"

I remove my finger. "Job. Headhunter."

14th August
19:33 GMT

Doctor Natu regards me with a look of discomfort. "I don't think that translated properly. You.. hunt heads?"

And naturally enough the translator struggles with metaphor. How to explain this while talking like a moron? "Not trophy. Head content. Ah, you labour?"

"I'm a surgeon."

I nod. "Your head, medicine. Want Korugar surgeon? Pay me, I find you."

She nods, exhaling slightly in relief. "You're an employment agent."

"I hunt rare head. Very special content."

"Oh, I didn't mean to insult-" We both lean back slightly as the waitress puts my drink down in front of me. "-your.. skills."

I wave my right hand. "No easy offend." I glance at the waitress, smiling broadly. "Thank you."

She smiles back faintly, then strides off towards another table.

"Are you hunting anyone here?"

"Big commission. Hunt many." I pause, as if giving the matter consideration. "Got important heads. Maybe more?"

"So you've got most of the people you're looking for?" I nod. "I don't recognise your species. Are you from.. anywhere near here?"

"Not close." I hold my hands up to my chest, making a circle with my thumbs and forefingers. Then I take my right hand away and point my right index finger at where the middle of the circle was. "Galaxy core." I move my finger again. "Korugar." I lower my finger slightly. "Earth."

Sector 1417 is north north east and 'up' from Earth. Closer than Maltus, further than the Vega Systems. Funny thing about distances in the galaxy when you can move as fast point-to-point as I can: approximate locations don't really matter. Exact locations matter as I do want to be able to find places, but rough locations are irrelevant as whatever the answer is it wouldn't prevent me getting there.

Doctor Natu's eyes unfocus slightly as she tries to put numbers to my mummery. "That's quite a way. Do you travel a lot?"

"Yes." I grin, nodding emphatically as I pick up my mug and raise it to my mouth. Ah, no, too hot. For a moment I'm reminded of the story of a coach load of English people on holiday in Texas, their introduction to ice tea and the resulting hundred person simultaneous spit-take. Heh, I'm only the second member of my species to ever come to this planet, and the last one overthrew their government. I should really be on my best behaviour. "This hunt, and before. You?"

"It's…" She looks away, shaking her head slightly. "Korugar's a lot more.. isolated, since we overthrew Sinestro. The other planets around here remember him as a hero. They didn't have to live under him. Oh." She wiggles her head slightly. "Sinestro... He was the.. Green Lantern who used to work in this region of space."

"Known."

"Right, you… Probably researched the whole thing before coming here." She looks out of the window for a moment. "Just about the only thing we agree on is that we hate him. And because he became so powerful because of a group of aliens and aliens still like him… People from Korugar don't travel all that much." She looks back at me, smiling slightly wistfully as she picks up her mug. "Not that I'd be able to afford to for years anyway. I'm going to be paying off my education until I'm forty."

I nod, sympathetically. "Ship surgeon?"

She shakes her head. "General practitioners and exobiological specialists work on ships. The only places that want surgical specialists are large mining outposts where they know they'll have work for us. And anyway, I'd have to pay back the government bursary I got for agreeing to work in a state hospital when I graduated. I'd be working in the mines until I was fifty, and there's only so much rock I think I could take."

"Ah." I nod. "Sympathy."

"So? Who are you working for? There can't be that many corporations who can afford to send someone all over the galaxy looking for employees?"

"Very old species. Few. Powerful. Not…" I make a vague circling motion with my hands to indicate our general environment.

"Not from around here?" I nod. "What sort of person were you looking for?"

"First; boss organiser."

Boss organiser? Really? That's the problem with ranks as opposed to jobs. They can be so culturally specific that they usually don't translate as anything sensible. Sergeant and Captain don't really have precise equivalents in languages whose people don't have the same peasant/aristocrat divide in their militaries that Earth does. At best I'd get 'squad leader' and 'military middle manager'. And director? What, they direct cars? Stage productions? I remember that in 'The Damned' series by Alan Foster the forces of the Purpose called their officers 'unifiers'. Literally, the people whose job it is to keep everyone working together.

"Boss or-? Oh." She makes an amused exhalation. "I think you need a better translator."

"Agree."

"So these… Ancient aliens are starting some sort of organisation and they want someone to run it." I nod. "And then, the rest of the management team?" I nod again, and she raises her left eyebrow. "And they decided that the best way to find the people they wanted was to hire you."

"Good previous employer report."

Which is a lie, obviously. I doubt very much that the League would give me a favourable write up.

"Must be very good." She takes a sip from her mug. "So what sort of person were you looking for?"

"Intelligent. Very intelligent. Motivated. Sagacious. Available."

"Did you have a list to work from..?"

"No. Already head, recruit. Lost individual."

"You knew who you wanted but didn't know where they were." I nod. "So where did you start?"

"Vega Systems." That's a nice and easy translation. Though that isn't what other species call it, it's a label for a place. The system can easily substitute the equivalent.

Doctor Natu frowns slightly. "Isn't Vega full of pirates and warlords?"

"Now?" I shake my head. "No. Close, mercenary. Match species hunt target."

"That doesn't mean they'd know them."

"Famous father." I smile inwardly at the obvious parallel. "All species know."

"Would I know them?"

I shrug. "Perhaps."

"Well, who are they? A musician? A merchant?"

"Vril Dox, the Maniac of Yod. Dictator of Colu."

"I.. think I've heard of him. He's also called.. Brainiac?" I nod. "And you wanted his son?"

"Yes."

"Did.. you get him?"

I pick up my mug to take a sip. "Interesting story."

22nd July
13:44 GMT

I'm not sure what I was expecting. Some sort of.. heavily armoured brick of a space station, probably. But apparently Amalak has more highly cultivated tastes. His training centre on Dryanna is situated amongst meadows of pale green grass analogues and a short distance from a large forest of.. youngish-looking trees. As I watch a platoon of heavily armoured soldiers begin what looks like a double-pace march out of the main courtyard entrance and down the main approach road.

"Sir?"

I look around and make eye contact with the gunner of one of the craft escorting me down. Picturesque as the environment is, this is still a military facility controlled by a very successful mercenary commander. Once I requested a meeting they weren't just going to let me fly around on my own recognisance. I mean, I'm perfectly capable of forcing my way in if I really have to, but that would waste an awful lot of effort on my part.

"Yes?"

"The Commodore is ready for you now on the southern veranda. If you'd like to follow us?"

"Lead the way."

The two aircraft dip and turn, heading for the south side of the facility where Amalak's personal accommodation is situated. I head after them. The design reminds me of GDI Orca aircraft, thrust provided by directional turbofans. It looks like Amalak believes that what works in space isn't necessarily what works in an atmosphere. And he's right, it's just that the cost of developing separate vehicles is usually great enough that most navies don't bother doing much work on the 'poor relations'.

Amalak himself is standing out on the wooden veranda, looking up at us as we come in. I can see a couple of bodyguards on standby, but they're clearly trying to be unobtrusive. The two aircraft come to-. Hah! They come to attention, stopping a precise distance in front of him and holding position perfectly for seven seconds. Then he nods and waves his right arm in dismissal. They take that as the signal to rise and move to the east until they have enough space to avoid hitting him with their backwash.

"Orange Lantern!" He waves at me with both arms as I approach, smiling broadly. "To what do we owe the pleasure!"

I float down through the air, landing on the decking just in front of him and inclining my head politely. "Commodore. Does the treaty hold?"

He nods, folding his arms behind his back. "For the most part. A few freebooters acted up a short while ago, but the matter was resolved with reasonable civility. Between the major parties, at least." He holds out his right arm in the direction of the entrance to his office cum living quarters. "Shall we?"

I nod. "Thank you." He leads the way and I make a point of looking around our environment. "Did you do the landscaping yourself, or did it come like this?"

"Alas, no." He sighs faintly, bowing his head. "When I purchased the land there was virtually nothing here. Everything I've had planted was cultivated from samples from my original homeworld, Timaron." He glances back at me. "Have you heard of it?"

"Timaron, Sector Two Eight One Three."

"Ah." He smiles again, pleased at the recognition. "And how did you hear of it?"

"My own homeworld is in the next Sector over, and I.. have access to Green Lantern Corps records."

"I don't suppose that… Your world plays host to any of my species, does it? Given what happened… There are so few of us left that I've been attempting to assemble a genetic database… Any new contacts at all…"

"I'm sorry, but-" We pass through the doorway. "-except for those of us who cheat, my homeworld doesn't have interstellar travel yet."

He nods sadly. "A pity."

"My.. records say that your homeworld was subjected to some sort of attack, but I don't know-."

"Krypton." His jaw hardens as he walks towards his private bar. "It was Krypton. They didn't have much of a navy, but we had even less. I'd have taken revenge for it myself by now but their world was destroyed not long after, while I was but a boy. Not that that does my people any good."

"That was… About forty years ago?"

"That's right. Drink?"

"Just water, thank you. Forty years ago General Zod would have been in charge of the Kryptonian Self-Defence Force. He was imprisoned for treason shortly afterwards."

"I'll remember that if I ever meet the man." He uses tongs to put three pieces of ice each into two glasses and then pours a finger of a cloudy pink liquid into one and water into the other. Then he picks up both glasses and walks towards me, holding the water filled glass out to me.

I take it from him with my right hand. "Thank you."

He raises his in a toast, and action I mirror. "Let no new thing arise."

"Cheers."

We both take a sip and then he lowers his glass, looking thoughtful. "I heard from some contacts of mine in Vega that the forces of the Citadel Empire are… Behaving somewhat erratically."

"I killed the First a couple of days ago. The cybernetic implants their higher-ups had in their brains were basically there to let him control them. With him dead, they're probably all stuck on stupid mode."

"Aah." His eyes grow a little distant as he considers the information. "And the Beast?"

"Disarmed and imprisoned. His slaves are still in his cave, but they won't go anywhere else without his direction."

"The Citadelians reduced to simpletons. There's an opportunity there."

"Tamaran's mine, and don't go near the Forbidden Forest on Okaara. Other than that, if you can create stability, go for it."

"I'm not quite that bold. But if I could tempt some of their soldiers to work for me, that would give me a substantial boost to my marines' forces."

"As you will." I take another sip. Huh. No drugs at all. Should I be insulted..?

"You still haven't said why you're here."

"I'm looking for a Coluan."

"You can't have mine."

I hold up my left hand in a 'stop' gesture, shaking my head as I do so. "I wouldn't dream of poaching staff from you. But I'm hoping that she can give me more information on the state of Colu and the location of the man I'm looking for. Is she in residence?"

He looks slightly puzzled. "You won't have much fortune finding Coluans anywhere other than Colu. And while the Computer Tyrants might be willing to sell one to you, I wouldn't want to risk it in your place."

"I believe.. that the individual I'm looking for is something of a special case. Would you mind..? Calling her in?"

"Not at all." He taps a metallic circle on his left forearm. "Vran, would you mind coming to my lounge? I have a guest who wishes to speak with you."

"On my way."

22nd July
13:52 GMT

"Orange Lantern."

"Miss Gozzi."

Her expression is neutral, looking neither pleased or displeased, surprised or expectant. I'm tempted to think that that's a Coluan thing, but I don't have anything like enough data to conclude that.

Commodore Amalak raises a decanter of something blue from behind his bar. "Vran?"

She doesn't look around, preferring to focus her attention on me. "Water, please."

"Both of you?" Amalak sounds mildly put out, and his tone causes Miss Gozzi to frown slightly, glancing his way and then back at me as I raise my own glass. "What's the point of owning these drinks if my business partners refuse to share them with me and be appropriately impressed by my generosity?"

I smile at his good humour, taking a sip of my water as I do so.

"How can I assist?"

Realising that she's not going to change her mind, Amalak tosses back his own drink and pours another of the blue stuff. "Orange Lantern wants to know something you might know, and I think that it's in the interests of our organisation to further improve our relationship."

She nods. "I have not yet been able to learn anything definitive regarding the Citadelian implants. If you wait a few days I can focus my efforts-."

She cuts herself off as I shake my head. "I already know. The implants connected every Citadelian to the First. He was able to keep them unified by sharing his own way of thinking."

"The First Citadelian?" She frowns. "I had assumed that he was long since dead. What evidence do you have?"

I raise my left hand and generate a construct image of our confrontation, letting it play with subtitles as I continue talking. "A few months ago I had to recall my ring from a considerable distance away, and inadvertently called rings out of the Beast's cave on Okaara. Five of them found their way into the hands of the Citadel. One he kept for himself, the other four he gave to new-generation 'smart' Citadelians." I speed up the images as the talking stops and the fighting begins. "As you might deduce by the fact that I'm standing here and the Citadel Empire is in disarray-."

"With the First's death the implants no longer serve any purpose. Or at least can't unify the Citadelians in the same way." She watches carefully as I shoot the First dead, then I dismiss the construct. "Their empire will survive on inertia and ignorance for a time, but you fought him openly. That information will spread."

"I had always aimed on taking down the Citadel eventually. This will just speed things up a little. But it isn't why I wanted to speak to you."

"Clearly."

"I was wondering if you could give me a lead on the present location of Vril Dox."

I see a {yellow}coil of fear{/} within her. "No. I have no idea where he went after abandoning Colu to his creations. And getting further information would be far too risky for me to attempt it out of mere curiosity. The security systems of the Computer Tyrants are exceedingly comprehensive." She takes a deep breath, her equanimity returning. "If you wish to look for him I would suggest asking the Computer Tyrants yourself. If anyone is still in contact with him, it will be them, and they may be prepared to trade knowledge to an alien."

Why-? Oh, she thinks I mean Brainiac, or… I knew Vril was a clone, I didn't realise they had the same name. Oh dear. I have.. assumed that Vril-. That Brainiac 2 exists here. But if Brainiac just never decided to create a cloned lab assistant…

"Ah, no. I heard a… Rumour that Brainiac had a clone-son..? It was him I was hoping to track down, not the original." Although… "Not yet, at any rate. I can't imagine Brainiac treating anyone as an equal, so I suspect that such a boy would possess his primogenitor's intelligence while utterly hating the man. Such a person would be very useful to me."

"During the period in which he ruled Colu, Vril Dox did not share information on his personal life with the population. If he did clone himself there-" She raises her hands into a typing pose and a holoscreen appears in front of her. "-would be little directly observable evidence." She begins typing, data scrolling across the screen in several directions as she accesses her own intelligence sources. "Can I assume that this 'rumour' does in fact have a solid espionage base?"

"I have… Access to unusual sources of information."

"That woman in the background. A Guardian?"

"Not any more. She quit about three billion years ago."

"Hm."

"Speaking of which…" I look over to Amalak. "Green Man hasn't given you any trouble, has he?"

He moves his glass away from his mouth and swallows. "He's watching us, but as yet he hasn't taken any action against us. The Crown Imperium have increased their force concentration near their border, but they're keeping away from Jarko's territory. It looks like a purely defensive posture. Reminding us that while they can't chase down every raider they can strike at our bases with a level of force which we can't stop." He smiles with the left side of his mouth. "Yet, at any rate."

"Commodore. Please, try to avoid antagonising the largest stable civilisation in this region of space."

"Oh." He waves his glass vaguely. "It won't come to blows. Just a little sabre-rattling to reassure Jarko that I'm on his side." He smiles suddenly. "Oh, that reminds me: your Spider-friend-."

"I may have what you want." I turn back to Miss Gozzi. Her text screen has now been joined by the image of an orange-yellow toblerone-shaped ship. "Most races with any sense have avoided Colu since Vril Dox seized power. The only exception is this vessel."

"Who owns it?"

"The Dominion."

The Dominators. I thought I remembered something about them being involved. Culturally, they're quite a lot like the Psions in an 'evil science race' sort of way. Unlike the Psions, the Dominators are tightly unified and tend to avoid direct confrontation. They buy small numbers of slaves for experimentation, but their most notable-.

"Is there a Dominator prison in the area?"

"Yes." Another image flashes up and oh my goodness me. That's a big one.

Dominator run prisons are famously hard to escape from. They're also fairly popular with interstellar civilisations as the Dominators are perfectly happy to hold prisoners cheaply. In return for a tithe of the prisoners for the purpose of biological experimentation, though the Dominators take care to generally only use the worst inmates. Unless they get someone really interesting. Ugh, very high end sensors, minefield and shields, and most likely exotic defences as well. Not to mention a small patrol fleet and Dominion fleet reinforcements not too far away. Getting in there is not going to be easy.

"Have you got precise details on their defences?"

"No, only a partial plan." I feel the data packet being relayed to my ring. "Obviously, you did not receive that from us. We have no desire to confront the Dominion."

"Any idea what they want with a Coluan?"

"If a clone of Vril Dox is indeed being held there, I would guess that they wish to use him to better predict the actions of his sire. Coluan neurophysiology is sophisticated, but if they simply wished to study our brains then there are far easier members of our species to acquire. I personally am more concerned with what they gave the Computer Tyrants in exchange."

"Problem for another day." I nod to her and then to my host. "Thank you both for your help. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a prison to break."

22nd July
23:28 GMT

I'VE WANTED TO COME HERE FOR SO LONG!

I'm descending towards ground level past literal tree-skyscrapers! Not trees as big as skyscrapers or trees with habitats bolted on, no. These are literal trees that are literal skyscrapers. And from the glows I'm seeing from them, also sentient creatures! They have windows made from cellulose and a bio-engineered wax, interior spaces and exits, their leaves not only gather sunlight but generate electricity and act as satellite dishes!

J is the first world I've visited which feels completely alien. Like someone took the developmental path of a normal world and just span a load of dials to see what would happen.

Shame they couldn't come up with a better name for the place.

A cluster of broccoli-headed locals crossing one of the sky walkways between colossal tree-habitats stops to stare at me. They have turnip-dogs! That's a turnip-dog! I turn in the air and float closer, waving as I go.

"Hello, plant people!"

That warrants some stalk-twitching and mono-blinking as they look at each other nervously.

One with bark of mottled brown raises his right hand. "Ah. Hello… Meat person?"

"You!" I struggle to suppress a laugh as I jab my right index finger at him. "You are now my second favourite person on this planet."

"Oooookay..?"

"But I'm here looking for Lantern Medphyll. Do you know where I can find him?"

"Ah." He points in the general direction I was heading. "Head.. that way until you get to the lizard garden, then turn left?"

"Thank you!"

I turn away, accelerating towards the… Lizard garden. I remember from the comic covering Swamp Thing's visit here -and confirmed by John's ring- that the plant life forms of this world have considerably more sophisticated neural development than the animals. Most animal species which survive into the modern era are pseudo-reptiles with tiny brains, just about capable of moving, eating and mating under their own power in response to environmental chemical triggers. I wonder if I can see one of those weird art places where they splice animals together to create horrible monster-installations?

I mean, yes, I may be blocked off from the Green Lantern Corps' communication system but I can scan his location perfectly well. Then.. I could have contacted him by plant-phone or something. But I want to see all of this! And be seen, because that comic made it look like a lot of the people around here are neurotic messes. And not give him much warning, because then he would probably ask the Guardians for advice rather than make his own decision.

"No, don't do that. Phyllys, come away from them."

I glance down… And… No grass, obviously. Instead, the ground is covered in… Some sort of crab-like creature. They filter feed on soil bacteria! Fascinating! The locals stand on them without really thinking about it, and the creatures themselves appear to be unharmed by that treatment. A child is picking them up and throwing them at one of the chained lizards that are the garden's… Lizardbed.

"Phyllys, people spent a lot of time making the lizards look nice. You're messing up their work."

An individual I'm going to assume is Phyllys' parent is trying and failing to make their authority stick. Child acting up in public. I can sympathise. The… Ah, I think female, puts her hand on her hips. The child doesn't look around as they pick up another grass crab.

"What am I going to do with you?"

I drop down just behind her, most of the park's other visitors.. not fleeing, but certainly deciding that they have urgent business elsewhere.

"Madam? Perhaps if I tried."

She sighs as she starts to turn. "Look, I'm perfectly capabloh Great O!" Her head fronds fall back in shock.

"No, he's taller than me." I raise my right index finger to my lips. "Shhhhhh.{orange}"
{/}
"Ah…"

"Just a little harmless prank." I walk past her, heading towards her charge. "Excuse me?"

"They don't move much." The child throws another crab, hitting a lizard right on the snout. Brown-grey blood leaks out from the point of impact, though the lizard itself doesn't react. There's… It has eyes, but… They don't focus on its environment.

Plants are animals. Animals are plants.

"No, they don't. But you're still not supposed to throw things at them."

"No one really cares."

"No, the gardeners do. In fact, I hear they bred a really big animal just so they could send it after anyone who messed up their work."

"Nuh-" The child throws another crab. "-uh."

"Un-huh. I hear it's really sneaky. I bet something like that could act like a person until it was right on top of you and ready to pounce."

"You're not-" The child starts to turn. "-my Mu{yellow}aaaaaggggghhhh{/}!"

The child falls onto its bottom, frantically scrabbling for purchase on the crab-covered ground.

"{yellow}Aaaaagh{/}!"

I grin toothily, eyes wide. "Hello there."

The child turns its body around while still keeping their eye on me, scrabbles forwards and slams face first into a lizard. They bounce back and then look at what they just slammed into.

"{yellow}Aaaagh{/}!"

The lizard doesn't react as the child jumps to their feet and stumbles away, then realises that they're stumbling towards me. They {yellow}stop{/} for a moment and run around me in an arc before grabbing their mother around the legs and quietly hyperventilating.

"And that's why we don't mess with the-"

A {green}green barrier wall{/} appears in front of me.

"-lizards." I look up as Lantern Medphyll floats down to the ground. "Lantern Medphyll." I bow. "A pleasure to meet you in person."

The child's mother glances nervously at me as she leads her suddenly considerably more biddable child away.

"Orange Lantern." He dismisses the barrier. "Why are you on my homeworld?"

"I wanted to thank you for your help last year."

"Were you able to save the plant life form?"

I bow my head. "Sadly, no. Though, we did confirm that it wasn't mentally sophisticated, so the loss is less grievous than it would have been."

"I see. I have heard your thanks. Was there something else?"

"Could you possibly please teach me how to control plants?" Medphyll stares at me for a moment. "You see, I know that Dominator computers are plant-based and I-."

"No."

22nd July
23:43 GMT

"…possible for a member of your species-"

"It totally is."

"-it would still take years to learn." He flies ahead of me in the classical swimmer pose, heading towards a modest plant-building I assume is his home. "Are you prepared to stay here for all that time?"

"I'd… Rather not. Look, I don't need to get that good, I just need to… Disrupt.. a few plants. Briefly. In a way that someone who wasn't familiar with the technique couldn't block."

"Disrupt-?" Still lying onward, he turns his head back towards me. "Would you like me to teach others how to 'disrupt' all animal life?"

"You do have a power ring. I.. sort of assumed that you.. could already."

He turns his face once more towards his destination, coming in to land just in front of his front door. I come down just behind him, not quite touching the ground. Some.. bare earth, but the roads and pavements are… Modified root systems? The door is a vine of some kind, and it sort of… Twists away in a spiral as Medphyll walks up to it. I stay floating there as he walks inside and a small crowd forms in a semi-circle around me at what I think they think is a safe distance.

"Are you coming?"

Ah, good. "Yes, thank you." I turn my head to nod at the crowd, then land and go after him at a jog. The floor of his home is -obviously- wood, but it's bark, this house is alive-.

The door-vine closes behind me.

"Ah, house?"

"It won't work."

He's moved further in, into what looks like a living area. "Is it deaf?"

"My home can't perceive sound. Master.. Jothra considered it.. inappropriate, for a student of the spirit to use a materialist work-around."

"Doesn't that leave your house deaf?"

He looks back and makes a small beckoning motion. "I wish that you could ask him."

I walk down the short corridor and into his living room-. An elderly member of his species is laid out on a small bier, dressed in robes with their arms folded across their chest. "Um. Master.. Jothra, I presume?"

Medphyll looks down at his late mentor. "I had a brief discussion on Human funerary tradition with Lantern Stewart once. I imagine this seems strange to you."

"Some rituals have the body being physically present. But.. I thought that he died a while ago. Ah." I create a construct hat upon my head and take it off with my right hand, pressing it to the left side of my chest. "My commiserations."

"Our bodies don't rot, as yours do. Chemical processes will cause Jothra's remains to harden. It's.. traditional, for a master's student to host his body while the process takes place."

"I see." I dismiss the hat. For a moment I consider suggesting that he avail himself of the services of a necromancer. Saarek, for example. Talking to Swamp Thing as Jothra appeared to help him in the comic after all. But, I don't know how these people feel about necromancy in general. Best not. "How is the.. new Lantern shaping up?"

Medphyll sits, not really looking at me. "Kilowog's initial appraisal was… Acceptable. With no pressing threat in this Sector it was felt that the Corps' best interests were served by giving them a longer training course."

I nod. "Good. Guy-. Lantern Gardner had.. a lot of good things to say about Lantern Kilowog's training."

"He joined the Corps later than me. When I was new, I was given over to Master Jothra for training. He was already a veteran himself. It was felt.. he would be better able to educate me than Lantern Deegan." He turns his head to look at me. "Why do you wish to learn how to connect with plant life?"

I grin. "Well, there's this Dryad back home…" He blinks uncomprehendingly. Right, true name, wouldn't translate. "There's a prison I want to break into. It's-."

"Dominator run." Understanding dawns. "You wish to be able to disable their security systems."

A nifty trick which I remember from the one bit of the Invasion! event I read. The Dominators waited until they were sure that Swamp Thing was off Earth before launching their attack because they believed that he could single-handedly ruin their forces. The Justice League knew the same thing, so Guy was dispatched to Louisiana to attempt to make contact with him. While there he did the most immoral thing I remember him doing in the comics; he fired on and destroyed an alien ship not participating in the invasion, killing the owner and her infant offspring. When Mrs Holland attempted to remonstrate with him he blew her off. That was probably before DC editorial decided that green power rings turned themselves off if they were used to kill someone.

It's interesting, now that I think about it. Guy was always supposed to be kind of an arse… At least when not in brain damaged mode. But because he was on the 'hero' side, I can't remember an incident where he did anything that was portrayed as being flat out immoral. Stupid, certainly, that 'one punch' thing will be around for as long as the character exists. Short sighted, reckless, aggravating. But that Swamp Thing issue had him both in-character and clearly in the wrong and I can't remember anything else quite like it.

"Dominators aren't the Reach. You aren't forbidden from picking a fight, if you've got just cause. And.. I'm not.. asking you to. You just need to show me how to-."

"What cause would I have?"

"They do.. habitually vivisect inmates."

"Do you have evidence of vivisections in this particular case?" I raise my eyebrows. "The Dominator's official line is that they only dissect the cadavers of those who die of other causes."

"Alright. I have evidence that they're dealing with the Computer Tyrants of Colu. I.. hope those.. things are on the shortlist for an Honour Guard visit, but in the mean time they are enslaving their whole planetary population with brain implants."

"That would be grounds for an intervention. However, I am a Sector Lantern, and I know that there are no Dominator-run prisons in Sector Five Eight Six."

"No, it's… In Sector One Two Eight Seven. And in case you're wondering, the Green Lanterns assigned there lack your skill in dealing with plants."

I really hope he goes for it. My backup plan involves going back to Earth and picking up Euanthe, and.. I.. don't want to do that quite yet.

"That is not an unreasonable target for an assault. But I am not a member of the Honour Guard, and I have not been assigned that mission by the Guardians. My responsibility is to ensure my Sector's safety-."

Ahh? "So as long as you're sure that the Sector is safe, you can leave, right? You said nothing was happening."

"By Green Lantern Corps regulation, I can only leave this Sector if another Lantern can be present. The mobility granted by a power ring makes us the perfect first line of response to an attack. A conventional fleet-."

I grin. "A Lantern, or a Green Lantern?"

"It.. doesn't specify. Do you have another Orange Lantern?"

…

Ah.

"No. But I.. think I know where I can get one."

23rd July
14:32 GMT

I clamp shut the last of the void-chests that Hinon gave me, and take another look around Larfleeze's inner sanctum. The First aside, it seems that the reputation of the place was enough to keep most sticky-fingered Vegans away. I had thought that perhaps some Psions might make a grab for them, but they seem to really be more of the éminence grise types. If they thought that the Emperor would trade some to them in exchange for their expanded support… Certainly they didn't have a reason to rush. Anyway, best check I got all of them.

I take a deep breath and try to ignore the assembled Construct Lanterns.

Come.

Immediately the Construct Lanterns float towards me.

No, not you.

They obediently stop.

With Larfleeze cut off from the orange light, becoming their domitor was easy. Unsettling as having more indisputably intelligent people as my slaves is, it's far better than leaving them just.. hanging around. And maybe with enough study we can turn them back into fleshy beings. If not… Perhaps an avarice golem or something? Working out that side of things can be a job for Hinon's new assistants.

Rings, come.

I maintain the call, my own ring shining brightly. I've scanned Larfleeze's caves as best I can, but I don't want to spend time digging through everything at the moment. Most of this.. probably belonged to someone, and while I did check modern Okaaran law on the subject it's silent as to what should happen to the Beast's property in the event of his defeat.

No, nothing. No more rings. At least, no more here. I float up from ground level and point to the void-chests. "Blume, you're on guard duty. The rest of you, take these to Hinon, then follow her instructions."

The mob comes forwards again, Glomulus wrapping all four arms around the closest and then appearing to struggle to rise off the ground with it. A brief flicker of orange as he nullifies the weight and he shoots up in an uncontrolled surge for a moment before regaining control. Flaasha uses.. its Lantern abilities from the offset, pulling a void-chest to its thorax before twisting in the air and heading for the exit, Glomulus close behind. Grubber dips down and picks up a void-chest with her right arms without apparent strain while Tammal Tayn coils various sets of tentacles around two. Nat Nat, Clypta, Sound Dancer and Blooch take theirs without issue and follow the others out.

One chest left. If I'm going to recruit, I've got to have something to recruit with, after all. Hinon's going to be too busy to create new rings for a while. Transformed Construct Lanterns will have to do. Alan managed perfectly well without an AI for decades, and these rings do have minds within them. I float the void-chest up to my height, flip the lid open again, then hold my hands out over the rings contained therein.

Ring, is it safe to put these in subspace?

{orange}This ring contains no data on rings created in this fashion.{/}

Oh well. I put the void-chest into a construct safe and transition out of the caves into the air high above the Forest of Weeds. Flickers of orange below me reveal my Construct Corps flying out of the canopy, then disappearing as they surge out into the universe. That… Isn't a form of FTL I'm familiar with. Well, as long as they get there in reasonable time.

Ring, plot course for Tamaran.

{orange}Compliance.{/}

A flicker as I transition outside of Okaara's atmosphere, then the stars leap around me. I had originally planned on recruiting Koriand'r and possibly Komand'r, but if their father could handle a ring… But… He probably can't spare the-.

The Liot'r system appears before me as the warp ends. Right, don't want to trigger my own defences. A brief transition and I appear within a few hundred kilometres of Scratching Post.

"Orange Lantern to-" Guns rotate to face me and prepare to fire. "-Thanagarian garrison. Friendly, honest."

"Orange Lantern, good to hear from you."

"Olio. How's the work going?"

"Aw, man. You would not believe how hard our techs are moaning about it. Once we got the basics done, Commander Andar decided to make them strip out everything that isn't up to our standard section by section. Heh, they say it would be less work to just make a new station."

"I'm sure that the Commander knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, me too. So how's that thing with the Beast going?"

"I already won. He's in-."

"{blue}When{/}, exactly?"

"Well it… Um, I took possession of the Orange… Central Power Battery two days ago. Why-?"

"Aw, really? Damn it, I'll have to tell the betting pool. I thought it'd take you at least three more months planning and preparing. Thought you were the slow and cautious type?"

"I needed to put on a good show for my new employer, and I'd made.. just about as many preparations as were needed for the approach I wanted to use. And a little more for contingencies. As General Carl von Clausewitz said, 'The enemy of a good plan is the dream of a perfect plan'."

"Hah! Wise man. You want me to put you through to the Commander?"

"No, I'm here to talk to the King. Unless he has something he wants to tell me, I don't have a particular need to speak to him."

"Actually, there is a thing…"

"What is it?"

"We're out of contact here, which is fine, but we do need to let the Queen know where we are and why we're not calling in. And there's normal mail stuff. I mean, none of it's urgent…"

"Not a problem. I've got to drop by Thanagar on my way back to Earth anyway, and I do want to see Alstair." Maybe Medphyll would be interested in the place? The locals are meat-based, but magic-based plant manipulation is pretty common there. Or.. maybe he'd be rather put off by that. Yes, that sounds more likely. Eh, I'll ask him. "Since I don't know when I'll be coming back to Tamaran, please put a data packet together for me and I'll pick it up before I leave."

"You got it. King Myand'r should still be in the capital."

"Thank you. I'll head down now. Keep up the good work."

"Hawk's Nest out."

Hawk's Nest. Sure, why not? Heh. I transition downwards, appearing moments later above the.. ruined part of Tamarus. Huh. No Komand'r down there this time, no.. data networks for me to use to bring myself rapidly up to date.

I'm going to have to actually talk to people. Like a caveman.

Late evening here at the moment, Tamaran's rotational period being more or less the same as Earth's. Actually, all of the inhabited worlds in Vega have more or less the same day-length. Just another oddity of the place. King Myand'r is.. in the Hall of X'Hal, a sort of… Combination of museum and temple. Tamaranians tend to regard X'Hal as being a war goddess, which… Probably isn't really true to her historical character. On the other hand, religion, historical authenticity…

I transition to the Hall's entrance and then land, the Tamaranian soldiers outside bringing their weapons to bear with commendable haste. I wave and they lower them again.

"Is it possible for me to speak with the king, please?"

The leader of the detail nods. "Yes, Orange Lantern. I know that he hoped to discuss the plans for the wedding with you."

I frown. "Wedding? What wedding?"

23rd July
14:38 GMT

"Wedding?"

King Myand'r nods, then looks up at the statue of his father. King Korithus is depicted as a proud warrior in his middle years, not the broken old man he died as when the Tamaranian home defence fleet was overwhelmed and shot to pieces. I can understand why he considered himself honour bound to resist, but I can't help but thinking that kowtowing could have prevented… So much death.

"Yes. I had intended to wait until Koriand'r's education on Okaara was complete, but… She is of age, and clearly it isn't practical for her to return there." He turns back to me. "I had it in mind to pass oversight of most of the modernisation program to her and to Prince Karras. The new Tamaran will be their world more than mine, and it will be better for it. Certainly, the pre-existing bad blood between myself and his parents would make cooperation between us… Fraught."

{orange}BABUM{/}

Orange… Flames… Flicker and flare from my hands. I fold them behind my back.

"Easing her into governing seems perfectly sensible to me. And Prince Karras seemed like a thoroughly decent man fully enthused for the project. But I'm not clear why the situation requires her to marry him."

King Myand'r sighs. "Authority. Tell me, what system of government do your people use?"

"Earth isn't unified. My country has a small democratically elected body who rule in concert with a hereditary monarch. The nearest thing Earth has to a planetary government requires the largest and most powerful nations on the planet to agree before anything much gets done."

Myand'r nods. "That's actually not a bad model. My wife and I may rule Tamaran in theory, but in practice our ability to exert our will outside those lands we directly control depends on our personal authority. I have been a tributary king of the Citadel Empire for my entire reign." He looks down the hall and out into the city. "The day of my first daughter's birth…"

"I know."

"My personal authority is near-nonexistent. And I think that at this point in my life it is too late for me to gain that authority. But, by marrying Karras, his parents will give her the opportunity to build that authority for the pair of them. And the other principalities will follow them as well, for fear of being left out and left behind. It isn't what I wanted for her."

{orange}BABUM{/}

He turns back to me. "But that's rather been the story of my l-." He blinks. "Are you well?"

{orange}BABUM{/}

Orange flames are dripping off me, maintaining coherence for several seconds even as they part from the main mass.

{orange}BABUM{/}

This is wrong.

"Does she want to marry him?"

"She.. sees the value in the match. They get on well enough."

"So, no. Does he want to marry her?"

"I-."

I hold up my right hand. "No, don't answer that. I know he doesn't. He'd much rather marry that bodyguard of his."

Myand'r's face stills. "Oh."

I turn away and start pacing, fists clenched and arms swinging.

"They love each other and have for some time. I can see the threads of violet light which bind them together. And if I was a Zamaron that would be my problem. And that's bad, I feel that's bad, but it's not the bad thing. The bad thing is that the marriage is entirely unnecessary. If it were the only way in which the rebuilding project could happen then I'd be fine with it but it isn't. From what I could tell just about everyone at the conference was all for it. They're just…" I gesture violently upwards with both arms. "Expecting this, like… They need confirmation that individuals' desires are being ritually subordinated to the collective idea of appropriateness!"

"And… You feel that a ruler should not subordinate their desires?"

"Not when they don't have to." I stop and stare at him. "If the wedding was called off tomorrow, what do you think Karras would do next?"

"I.. doubt that he would change at all, though his parents-."

{orange}BABUM

"{/}His parents aren't the ones getting married to someone they barely know."

His face grows more sombre. "Are you telling me that I must cancel the wedding? Annul the betrothal?"

"No! You're the king, I don't.. give you orders. I'm.. simply.. making you aware of my displeasure with the situation. Is there really no.. acceptable alternative?"

"You could marry her. Or Komand'r, if you preferred."

"What?"

"For rescuing so many of our people and liberating Tamaran from the Gordanians and their Citadel masters you have earned considerable personal authority. If Karras were willing to step aside for you, that would be a functional alternative."

"But… You've been my point of contact. Don't.. you get credit for-" He smiles sadly, shaking his head. "-that?"

"Why should I get credit for your work?"

"And I can't endorse you in some way?"

"You already have, but I'm afraid that it isn't enough. Even if you ritually presented me the Citadel Emperor's head-."

"I can do that."

"I am aware of your ambition, but the wedding is set to take place in five days."

"No, I mean, the head of the First Citadelian-." I cut myself off and glance at the statue of X'Hal. Then I lower my voice slightly. "I killed the First Citadelian two days ago. His head.. sort of.. shattered a bit, but I could recover it and stick it back together."

"The First.. lives?"

"No, I just said-."

"He.. lived until just now?"

"Yes. Commodore Amalak told me that Citadel forces are in a bit of a mess. He wasn't fighting, but he was the one keeping them unified and focused."

"That's.. astonishing, but as I said; that increases your authority. Not mine." He pauses for a moment. "He's really dead?"

"Assuming that he can't survive his own physical death, yes."

But what to do? I open my empathic vision all the way up and look at him. Oh, not good. With his people and his daughters safe, he's just not.. spiking high enough into the orange. He could probably use an orange ring safely… But if his assessment of the political situation is accurate -and it seems reasonable to assume that it is- then if he died… That sounds like something that would result in chaos, with no one in a position to arbitrate…

Except for me, and I intend to be busy.

Hmm.

"What.. would happen… If the authority of the princesses increased?"

23rd July
14:51 GMT

I drift slightly aimlessly through the skies of Tamarus, heading.. slowly in the direction of the palace. I really wanted more time to assess the princesses for compatibility before.. doing anything like this. I don't really… If I make it clear that it's a field test with imperfect rings, perhaps that would salve their egos? Certainly, these.. people-rings-. No, I need a better name than that. Old rings. Yes, that'll do. Functional, but soon to be superseded.

Talking to Karras first will probably be easier. Though.. it is quite late. Well, if he isn't awake I can just wait until tomorrow. I'm not in that much of a hurry. Assuming that he's still in the same room as when I left… Yes, there he is. I accelerate towards the palace.

I'm still flaming, but not quite as badly as before. The shock of being.. confronted with this arrangement has dimmed the intensity of my response a little. From the way Myand'r was talking I assume that arranged marriages are a relatively unremarkable thing amongst Tamaranians. My own exposure to them comes from the reactionary parts of the British Asian community, honour killings and kidnap-marriages. If I'd had a bit more exposure to functional examples I might feel less strongly. But as it stands this is very definitely triggering my 'This Will Not Happen' response.

The whole situation reminds me of the Meiji Restoration. And the end of the first series of Gundam. In both of those, both sides were trying to accomplish basically the same thing but decided that they couldn't until one or the other was defeated. There was no real benefit to the fighting, just the assumption that it had to happen. Here, there's no benefit to the marriage, just an assumption that it needs to occur.

And now I'm flaming again. Good job that Tamaranians generally don't fly at night. They can, but as they're solar powered they find it draining and can dry up completely if they keep at it. Hope I'm not keeping anyone awake.

There are a couple of guards on the balcony to Prince Karras' room and they can see me coming their way from the other side of the city. As I drop down towards them one is talking through the narrowly-open outer doorway while the other steps forward to greet me.

"Orange Lantern. You wish to speak with Prince Karras?"

"If that's at all possible. It can wait, but I'd rather not lose the time if that's at all possible."

He glances back and the other guard nods. "You may enter now."

I nod as I land. "Thank you." I walk towards the door, empathic vision showing me… Two people inside, Karras and -going by the amount of {violet}violet{/} I'm seeing- his soldier-girlfriend. Good show. If she's here then he hasn't done the faux-noble thing of separating from her 'for the good of the people'. That should make him easier to persuade.

The second guard opens the door for me and closes it after I've strolled through. Karras is standing near a desk, a curtain drawn across to separate the working part of the room from the sleeping area. He's wearing opaque purple… Harem pants and nothing else. Okay, Tamaran, I shouldn't have expected anything else.

"Orange Lantern. What can I do for you?"

I flick my left hand up and generate a sound nullification field around the inside of the room. Where's what'shername? "I wanted to speak to you about the wedding."

He smiles politely. "You are invited, of course. Do you think that you will have time to attend?"

I look around the room. "I'm afraid that's…" I frown. "Why is your girlfriend hiding in the cupboard?"

He hesitates, his mouth falling slightly open before he can cover it up. "I.. don't know what you're-."

I stride over to it and yank open the door, the woman trying to duck behind some sort of robe. A mission somewhat impeded by Tamaranian ideas of modesty. "Oh, come out. I may as well have this discussion with both of you."

"Ah…" She looks past me to Karras, looking for some clue as to what she should do. I just turn away and walk back across the room.

"How did you know that she was there?"

"Karras, I have many abilities. The ability to detect the emotions of those about me isn't one of the most noticeable ones but it is fairly useful. I knew that the two of you were in love before you spoke a single word to me."

I turn back and.. she's wearing harem pants and nothing else as well. She's in pretty good shape, though I think that exposure to Diana has left me a little jaded about the female musculature. "I don't believe that anyone has told me your name."

"Corporal Taryia. Sir."

They don't look at each other or try and move together. Assuming that Tamaranian facial expressions are sufficiently similar to Human ones I'd say both are feeling guilty.

"And how long have the pair of you been intimately involved?" She doesn't immediately respond, so I turn my eyes towards Karras.

"I.. really don't see what concern that is of yours."

"Because I don't know enough about the way Tamaranians process emotions. Because I intend to find an acceptable way to break the betrothal of yourself and Princess Koriand'r and prevent the marriage. Can I assume that you're both interested?"

His eyes {blue}widen slightly{/} and the corporal {blue}glances his way{/}. "{blue}That's{/}.. {blue}possible{/}?"

"{green}It will be{/}. Are you on board?"

"Yes. Yes, {violet}we{/}-" He steps towards the corporal and she towards him. They clasp hands. "-{violet}are{/}."

"Good. First thing; is your pre-existing relationship a breach of the betrothal agreement?"

"No. Actually, things like this are quite common when the marriage is political."

The corporal nods. "It's accepted that blood-alliances are sometimes necessary, but being permanently separated from {violet}the one you love{/}? No one would accept that."

I take a deeper look at the pair of them, but there's barely enough orange to be worth mentioning. Maybe if violet rings were a thing… I'll bear them both in mind for my eventual meeting with the Zamarons.

"And -I just want to check- you aren't planning on suddenly abandoning the rebuilding initiative if the wedding doesn't go ahead?"

"Not by choice, but I'm not Prince-Regent. It is my parents' decision."

"Alright. How much extra authority would Koriand'r need to convince them to stay on board?"

"I.. suppose if you-?"

"No. While it isn't impossible that the two of us might have gotten together at some point, it would be after a long courtship and because we genuinely loved each other. It wouldn't be happening soon, and I wouldn't… Hold the reconstruction of her homeworld hostage to ensure her compliance. What else?"

"Something of.. substantial service to Tamaran."

"I was thinking about taking them with me when I smash the Citadel Complex and steal their shipyards. Do you think that would work? Revenge, recovering the remains of their uncles and grandmother if they're still there, massively speed up the rate of Tamaranian shipbuilding?" They blink at me. "Assessment for ring compatibility and basic training could take a while, I'd like an answer reasonably quickly?"

"Yes… That would…"

"And you'll support them?"

"Ye-. 'Them'? Komand'r as well?"

"I wouldn't want someone to do something stupid like insist on a consolation prize." I examine their faces. "Someone hadn't done that already, had they?"

He looks away awkwardly. "There.. were discussions…"

"They serve no further purpose. Will they have your support?"

He nods. "Yes, of course."

"Good. See you in a few days."

23rd July
15:12 GMT

"What are you talking about?"

Komand'r flashes me a mildly irritated glance, then returns her attention to her weapon. An elderly Tamaranian plasma pulse gun, restored to operating condition. The Thanagarians have similar weapons but the Tamaranian version fires larger pulses, designed as it was to burn through the thick armour of Citadelian infantry. She inserts a new hydrogen flask, twists and then presses the activation switch. There's an audible hum and the central section of the weapon glows faint blue.

"It was a simple question, Princess."

She puts the stock of the gun to her right shoulder, sights the target at the far end of the shooting range and squeezes the trigger. A beam of brilliant blue plasma blasts from the weapon and annihilates the target.

"It's a pointless one. 'What do I want?'"

"When last we spoke you seemed discontent."

She removes the gun from her shoulder and carefully checks the various gauges that have been attached to it in several places. "Did you know that my sister is to be married?"

"Your father mentioned it."

"She is to be given {red}oversight{/} of our entire reindustrialisation process. Her and.. her new husband."

"I wasn't aware that her education -or yours- included a great deal on industrial strategy."

She raises the gun again and fires at a new target. This time one of the gauges beeps and her mouth twists into a grimace of frustration. "It didn't." She removes the gun from her shoulder and flicks another switch, the glow fading. "But she isn't expected to build things herself. She's expected to make sure that everyone is following the scheme."

"And what do you want to do?"

"I want this {red}gun{/}-" She plants it on the workbench with more force than is strictly necessary. "-to behave itself. We're trying to bring weapons wielded by the old Tamaranian marine corps back into working order."

"Difficult?"

"With the neglect they've suffered, I find it a minor miracle that any of them still function. A tiny deformation of the plasma chamber and they leak waste heat into their own mantle."

"Do you find the work satisfying?"

"It needs to be done. {red}And{/}… I doubt that I could serve as a symbol of Tamaranian optimism and unity."

"Do you want to?"

"What possible good would that serve?" She looks at my face and sees that I don't consider that an adequate response. "No. I wouldn't know where to begin."

"Alright. What, then? What do you want?"

"Functioning weapons." She removes part of the outer casing, and even my unaided eyes can see the subtle warping of the inner parts of the weapon.

"What for? Tamaran is safe-."

"{red}Isolation{/} and {red}dependency{/} are not safety." She pushes the gun across the bench. "All this is good for now is parts."

"What do you want?"

"For the rest to work."

Am I going about this wrong? "What for? What motivates you? Why are you here when the rest of the city is going to bed?"

She takes off her work gloves and puts them on the bench. "Because I can. Because {orange}we need more weapons{/}. Do you intend to-?"

"Why? What do you want to do with them?"

"Defend our-." I give an amused exhalation, bowing my head slightly and shaking it. "{red}What{/}?"

"I'm not judging you. I'm not assessing you. I don't want to know what you think the right answers are. I want to know what you genuinely think. What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Her eyes shimmer with pale green light, her shoulders tense and her fists ball. "{orange}I want an army{/}. {orange}And a fleet, big enough to darken the skies of our enemies' worlds when we go to them{/}. {orange}I want to rain unstoppable destruction down upon everyone who dared think us too weak to do anything other than accept this as our station{/}! {orange}I want Citadel Complex lifeless and drifting in space{/}. {orange}I want Karna and Emana and the Psion Motherworld burning, the survivors fleeing in terror before my wrath{/}. {orange}I want to stand triumphant over the ruins of everything my enemies ever built{/}. Are you satisfied?"

I nod. "And then?"

"What do you mean, 'and then'?"

"After you'd done all that..?"

She frowns. "I'm not…" She stops, giving it a little more thought. "{orange}Keep it that way{/}."

"And for yourself?"

"Being remembered as Tamaran's greatest ever war leader would fit my ambitions rather nicely."

"You appeared to be irritated by your sister's impending wedding. You don't have any desires in that direction yourself?"

"I'm {red}irate{/} that I have been {red}written off{/} once again! Shoved aside from the path to the throne with no way to earn my way there while {red}her{/} way is smoothed at every opportunity! I am already a better strategic planner than she is but I would have been better served studying makeup artistry."

"And if you had the opportunity to get everything you want, if you had that opportunity… Would you use it to act against her?"

She looks mildly amused. "I wouldn't need to. {orange}My achievements would outshine hers{/} to such a degree that it would be.. a wasted effort."

Sounds genuine. Obviously I'd rather her desires were a little more lofty, but they do broadly line up with what I'm planning.

"And no plans to marry yourself?"

She turns away, towards the exit from the proving ground. "There isn't really any need for us to strengthen political ties with any other group."

"Then you'd be free to marry for love?"

She looks back, a small smile on her face. "What a.. curious idea. No, I would wait until there was an advantage." She looks me over. "Though I suppose that you yourself represent a rather interesting prospect. Comely enough for a dalliance, powerful and well liked by Tamaran's citizens. Tell me, are you here to press your own suit?"

"Ah, no. If I were going to marry someone, it wouldn't be for reasons of political convenience."

Her smile grows slightly. "A romantic. How delightful. If political positioning so disinterests you, perhaps.. you would like to spend the night with me for purely recreational reasons?"

"Thank you, but no. I still need to speak with Koriand'r-."

"Oh." Her expression curdles. "Yes, Koriand'r has probably only just gone to sleep. If you wake her I imagine that she would be quite pleased to see you again."

I nod. "Perhaps. But if she has already retired I can wait until tomorrow. Goodnight, princess."

23rd July
22:57 GMT

I turned down my environmental shield to the absolute minimum as evening turned to night and then into dawn, my eyes shut and my mind at peace. I can feel the soft wind against my skin, I can hear all of the quiet sounds of the nocturnal animals and the occasional snatch of speech which drifts my way. And I reach out, not with my hand or my ring but with my own soul, feeling and tasting the desires of the-.

"Hello?"

I leave my eyes shut, turning my head in the direction of the speaker.

"Koma told me that you wished to speak to me? Are.. you awake?"

"Yes." Blue and indigo, mostly. Reminds me of Diana. Not as much green, but she's far younger and hasn't been anything like as battle-hardened.

Orange is a little thin on the ground.

I open my eyes. I'm sitting cross-legged at the edge of the palace's highest landing platform. Princess Koriand'r is floating in the air just in front of me. She's wearing a purple halter top/hot pants combination that.. is still considerably more modest.. and practical, than what she wore in the comics. Her hair isn't quite the pile of perm that it is in the comics. Rather, it looks like it's naturally slightly curly and is either being buffeted by the wind or… Maybe something about the innate ability she's using to fly?

"I am glad!" And she's smiling and as far as I can tell it's totally genuine. "I was.. not able to thank you properly for rescuing our people, as well as my sister and I."

"You are welcome."

"Am I speaking your language correctly?"

I raise my eyebrows slightly. "I'm sorry." I point to my ring with my right forefinger. "Power ring translator. I didn't realise."

"Oh." She actually looks quite disheartened…

"Ring, translation off.{orange}"

"Compliance."{/}

And there's the smile. "Thank you. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"A couple of things. Would you like to sit down?"

She shakes her head, then turns slightly in the air to take in the city as the dawn sun begins to illuminate its streets. "I prefer to fly. When we were.. captive, we were denied the opportunity-."

I raise my right hand. "I understand. Whenever I'm.. parted from my ring, I tend to spend the next few days using it for everything."

She turns back to me and nods, still smiling. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Two things, really. Firstly, your.. English teacher."

She nods. "Prince Karras. We are to be married."

"And how do you feel about that?"

Her face grows a little more solemn. "He is a good man, and perhaps one day will become a good king."

"That wasn't really what I meant." I sit with my hands upon my lap, waiting for her to continue.

She gives her head a small shake, clearly not understanding. "What do you mean?"

"I.. am an Orange Lantern." I look aside for a moment. "And as far as I know the only one. But -like any other colour- orange rings respond best to particular modes of thought. Green rings respond best to those capable of total mental focus. Yellow rings to those who inspire fear and understand their own. Orange rings like mine -and like the one which the Beast wore- respond to avarice. The more I want, the more powerful I become."

She frowns. "But you asked for nothing in return for freeing us."

"I… No. I have not moved beyond valuing physical rewards, but they are only a part of what I desire. When I freed you, I self-actualised. I acted against others in accordance with my desires and beliefs about how the universe should be. Avarice isn't just about… Eating a thousand cheeseburgers."

She nods, smiling again. "I understand. I don't know what a cheeseburger is, but I imagine that eating a thousand of them would make you ill."

I nod. "So with that in mind… What do you want?"

"What do I want?"

I nod. "What do you want?"

Her left arm folds across her chest and her right hand goes to her chin in the classic thinker pose. "I suppose… I would like to see Tamaran prosperous again. I.. would like-."

"No no no. Not what you think -upon reflection- might be nice. Not what you think you should want. Not even what you're actually working towards." I let my eyes flare orange. "What do you want?"

She gives me a small nod, her eyes half closing as she gives it a little more thought. Probably not the most honest approach; I want an honest answer more than a fundamental one.

"I.. want Tamaran to be {orange}safe{/}." Her jaw tightens slightly. "What all of us the Citadel took went through {orange}is not something that anyone should have to endure{/}."

"And what will you do, to ensure this safety?"

"I.. will help my world rearm. I will teach others what I was taught by the Warlords of Okaara. And I will ensure that we have the industry to support our rearmament."

"Reasonable." I nod. "But what would you want to do, most of all? If practical issues were no impediments. If you could.. do anything."

She sets her face hard. "Then I would {orange}do it myself{/}. I would {orange}seek out those who so brutally abused us and ensure that no one else would suffer from their deprivations{/}. I would {orange}shield my world from any enemy{/} and my people would know that they {orange}were safe under my protection{/}."

I nod. "I note that you haven't mentioned Prince Karras."

She blinks, her focus lost. "You didn't ask about Karras. He.. is… Our marriage will align-."

"You described your wants in terms of service to your people. You don't want him. If you could realise your desires in some other fashion, would you prefer that?"

"I…" She looks uncertain, her eyes not focusing on me. "Karras has done nothing wrong, nothing that would justify breaking our betrothal."

"Do you want him for his own sake?"

She makes a sad little sigh. "No. And I know that he does not-. That he would prefer another. But this is what my people-."

I stand, flowing into an upright position with such speed that she jerks back in the air away from me. "No. It isn't. It may be what is expected but it is not required. You don't want each other and you don't get anything that could not be more sensibly obtained in other ways. Am I right?"

She shakes her head. "If there were another way-."

"Luckily for you, I'm here." I float forwards off the roof, construct safe just behind me. "Komand'r should still be at breakfast, yes? I think I should say this to both of you."

23rd July
23:07 GMT

Koriand'r {blue}laughs{/} as she darts ahead of me towards the dining room, trying to… What, turn this into a race? Everything she's been through and she still-. Heh. Incredible. If there were any justice in the universe I'd be offering her a blue ring.

Since there isn't, I smile back at her as she glances at me. And I accelerate, my speed momentarily surpassing hers before she returns her attention to her destination and pulls away. I'm about to do something that risks driving her and her sister insane. I sigh inwardly. No, if I'm here, I'm confident that I will be able to spot the warning signs and intervene. We can more than afford to take a few days to get this right.

Koriand'r darts through the arches leading to the dining area. I decided that it would be more dignified -perhaps not by Tamaranian standards but certainly by mine- to enter on foot instead. I'm overdressed for a Tamaranian breakfast, but no one said anything last time. Is it advantageous to look more like one of the group? Perhaps, slightly, but it would be dishonest. I'm not joining their team, I'm asking them to join mine.

"-explained to you why he was so eager to know that?"

I take a moment to adjust my robes, and then stroll inside.

"He said that he wished to explain it himself." Koriand'r turns and cranes her neck slightly, clearly wondering if I was coming or not. She smiles and straightens as I enter. Komand'r is sat at the table, some sort of flatbread and a selection of small fruit on her plate. She is dressed in the same all-encompassing clothing that she was when I spoke to her yesterday, presumably intending to spend her time in much the same way. She watches me, patiently waiting for me to explain myself.

"Good morning, Princess Komand'r."

"That seems unduly optimistic."

"Oh, I think that you'll agree with me in a moment." Koriand'r steps into the air, floating over the table and taking what I assume to be her seat. "It is my intent to offer both of you the opportunity to advance yourselves. Koriand'r, all being well, you will gain the authority required to make marriage to Prince Karras unnecessary. Komand'r, you would gain sufficient renown to demand a seat at whatever table you wanted… Or the opportunity to forge your own path entirely."

She arches her right eyebrow. "Not that you're an unattractive prospect-."

"No." I hold up my right hand. "No. Why does everyone assume..? No. I was talking about destroying the Citadel Complex."

Komand'r {orange}starts to smile{/} while Koriand'r looks puzzled. "How? The Citadel Complex is protected by the most powerful defences in the Vega Systems, the power of the Citadel fleet and legions of Citadelian soldiers. When Tamaran's navy was at its strongest we tried to make such an attack. Few survived. I do not know if a Lantern could make such an attack, but I do not see how we could aid you."

{orange}Komandr's smile grows{/}. "No, {orange}one Lantern couldn't, could they{/}?"

"I would need to research their defences more fully before I could give you an honest answer. But, as you have no doubt surmised…" I bring the construct safe around in front of me and allow the upper surface and sides to melt away, revealing the void safe. "After I defeated Larfleeze and the First Citadelian-."

"You what?"

Komand'r looks.. almost angry. Certainly shocked. Koriand'r looks more surprised. Ah. I suppose that I should probably have mentioned that. "My sponsor created a device that interfered with the Beast's mind. I went inside the Forbidden Forest of Weeds and used it on him. He's in an asylum cell on Maltus now. The First tried to intercept me on my way out."

Koriand'r blinks as she comes to terms with the idea. "I did not believe that the First was real."

Komand'r rolls her eyes. "Obviously there had to be an original." She looks at me, eyes narrowing slightly. "Though I am surprised that he was still alive after all this time."

"The Citadelians claim that he was X'Hal's son. Would a god age?"

Komand'r rolls her eyes again. "'Would a Psion science project age?' would be a better question."

"He said that he did, and that he rejuvenated himself with-" I place my hands upon the void-chest and lift the lid. "-an orange power ring."

I give them a moment to take in what is inside, then place my hands over the rings themselves. Let's see, someone… No, no… Sane people don't challenge Larfleeze, so getting a mind who ah. Yes, these will do. Okaaran warriors who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I take a ring in each hand and then close the lid.

"These rings empower their wearers to enact their desires. But, they also magnify those desires. Two of the people I lent my own ring to began displaying extremely altered behaviours almost immediately. When I started using it, my own behaviour changed gradually and.. some.. fairly odd things happened before I reached my current level of equanimity. If you take them, I will begin training you in their use with a view to attacking the Citadel Complex. If you don't…" I shrug. "I will seek others. The decision is yours. So."

Oh, this whole thing is turning me into a drama queen.

I hold out my hands palms upwards with the rings resting on them.

"Koriand'r of Tamaran, you want to protect your people. Komand'r of Tamaran, you want a righteous vengeance. And I want you both for the Orange Lantern Corps. Take my rings."

Komand'r barely waits for me to finish speaking {orange}before rising to her feet{/}-.

"No. Stop." She stops, looking confused. "Not like that. Hold out the hand that will bear the ring… And want it to you."

"What?"

"From Earth, I called rings that were in Larfleeze's stash in the Forbidden Forest of Weeds on Okaara. I'm six metres away from you. Call the ring."

Komand'r looks at me askance for a second, trying to work out if this is some sort of prank. Realising that she has nothing to lose she holds out her right hand. "{orange}Come, ring{/}."

For a moment nothing happens, then the ring in my right hand wobbles slightly.

"You told me what you wanted to do. Hold in your mind the image of accomplishing it via this ring. Imagine the orange light which once empowered the Beast flowing through you."

Her right hand {orange}tenses{/}. "{orange}Mine{/}."

The ring gently floats up from my right hand, spinning slowly on its axis.

{orange}"Mine!"{/}

The ring shoots forward onto her outstretched ring finger. {orange}"Princess Komand'r of Tamaran. I am yours."{/}

"{orange}Guh!{/}"

Orange light runs throughout her body and she cringes slightly. I suppose that suddenly seeing the life of the person the ring once was must come as something of a shock. A moment later she straightens up and I watch very carefully to see what her next course of action is. The orange light within her is strong… But it looks stable.

She holds up her right hand, staring at the ring. "You did not {orange}tell me{/} that it used to be someone."

"We'll get you a normal ring when we can. And we'll try to turn that one back into a person. But, these are what I have for now. If you'd rather put it aside-."

"{orange}No{/}." Her eyes flash orange for a moment and… She rises into the air. "{blue}Ah{/}?"

The orange light cuts out and she falls to the floor.

"Intense emotions other than avarice will cause your ring to shut down. That's how I killed the First." I turn to the nervous-looking Koriand'r. "Well, highness? Will you be joining us?"

She stares at the ring on my left palm for a moment, then {orange}raises her left hand{/}.

24th July
16:14 GMT

Just like on Earth, when-

"{orange}Yaaagh{/}!"

-Lanterns spar, it doesn't take all that long-

"{orange}Raah{/}!"

-for a crowd to form. Fortunately the Tamaranians have the sense to keep well back, unlike a few Humans I could name. Double-fortunately, because while a few of the subtleties eluded Guy, John and Jordan they certainly had the basics down. I don't think the princesses have even seen a recording of a Lantern before.

Komand'r {orange}thrusts{/} her {orange}hands{/} forward, {orange}fortifying her bubble shield{/} as my tungsten rounds strike home. The barrier cracks under the assault but doesn't fall apart, a noticeable improvement upon her earlier performance. I maintain fire as Koriand'r {orange}flies{/} at me, {orange}pulses of orange light{/} blasting towards me from her ring. I evade, letting my ring project the trajectory of each shot and move me out of the way. Her trajectory I track by eye, firing a single flashbang round right at her face. Its proximity fuse detonates it just before it hits her, the flash-

"Agh!"

-blinding her and sending her crashing to the ground.

"Koriand'r, your ring can heal your eyes! Focus on your desire-" I send a tendril to assail Komand'r's bubble from the side. "-for physical wellness!" The tendril makes contact. Oh dear, she's lost awareness of her environment again. I have warned her about this.

Corrupt.

The barrier shuddering for a moment is all the notice she gets before construct veins appear over the outer surface.

{orange}Construct acquired.{/}

I fold my arms behind my back as I throw her ball up into the air and then slam it to the rocky ground.

"Ah!"

Komand'r yelps, then {orange}pushes herself up{/} and {orange}forms a construct-sword{/}.

"Komand'r, what did we say about-{orange}"

She shoots forwards, environmental shield flaring{/}. I'm actually {indigo}getting a little worried{/} about her stability. I send a filament at her from the ground just behind her… Ah, she's gotten the hang of resisting those with her environmental shield, good. I float backwards, letting her approach but at a slower rate. As she flies past her fallen sister Koriand'r pulses with orange light, her eyes clearing. She looks around for a moment and then raises her left hand in a 'resume' signal. I fire a short volley of tungsten rounds at her and she leaps into the air to evade.

Komand'r approaches melee range and swings her sword at my chest. My armoury tong construct grips it by the flat of the blade before it can complete its arc and the sudden stop causes it to slide from her hands. As soon as she loses physical contact her construct fades to nothing and she barrels into my construct armour hands first.

I hear the crack as several bones in her hands fail to withstand the impact, even through her environmental shield. Enhanced for strength and not endurance, perhaps?

She falls back, her teeth bared and glowing construct-gauntlets forming around her injured hands. No, that won't do at all.

"Komand'r, stop.{orange}"

"I will still-!"

"{/}No, you've lost focus. Stop. Meditate. Resume later."

"{orange}I can{/}…" She shudders as she tries to prove my assessment wrong, momentarily showing me that her eyes are emblazoned with the orange sigil. "I… {green}can{/}-."

Her ring cuts out and she falls onto a construct mattress that I've placed just below her. Her mind clear, she looks at her broken fingers {yellow}in horror{/} as the pain finally gets through. She bites down a whimper as I raise my right hand and scan them.

"Seven phalanges. I would suggest that in future if you wish to punch a hardened target that you create the construct gauntlets first."

She grits her teeth as she answers. "I will remember that."

Orange light plays over her hand as I knit the bones back together. "Better?"

She flexes her fingers. "Yes. I am ready to resume our mat-."

"No, you're not. Without the ability to retain your situational awareness, your effectiveness in combat will be crippled. And this is just against a single opponent who's pulling his attacks; against a fleet that's actively trying to kill you, you will die unless you understand the self-discipline aspects of my training."

She nods reluctantly, rising off the construct platform under her own power. A glance is enough to know that she really likes being able to fly. I'm not sure if she's learned to repair whatever damage her childhood illness did, but.. I don't think I'll do it for her. It will be an excellent encouragement to learn how to use her ring for non-combat purposes. Komand'r flies over to our starting area and sits down cross-legged, her hands meeting fist-to-palm across her chest.

Koriand'r comes closer. I haven't signalled 'stop' in her case, but she appears to be assuming that she should take a break if her sister does. "What do you want me to focus on?"

"Armour constructs. I shouldn't have been able to disable you like that. You can bet that Emperor Damyn has reviewed the fight leading to the death of his progenitor at length, which is why you'll both be undergoing power armour training this afternoon."

"I have not fought in such heavy armour before. I am .. concerned that it may impair my movements in a way which I cannot adequately compensate for."

"That's a reasonable concern under planetary gravity and in an atmosphere. You'll be in space, wearing a power ring. Trust me when I say that power ring based flight does not care about a little extra weight from your armour."

She doesn't look convinced. "Will this armour stop capital ship weaponry?"

"Not the primary weapons, but if those hit you then it's your own fault for not dodging. It will however severely reduce the ability of their point defences to harm you, and those are far more effective against small targets like Lanterns when at close range. Did your training on Okaara cover ship to ship combat at all?"

"Somewhat. But it was not a particular focus. And we didn't study ways to destroy capital ships from the outside using infantry."

I nod. No, I don't suppose that they would have. "Fair enough. How are you finding the solar suit?"

She tenses and relaxes a few muscles, looking at the material as it moves over her skin. "It feels.. strange. I am so used to the idea that covering my skin weakens me that I have seldom worn so much clothing."

"Hopefully it'll help get you familiar with the practice. Of course, you can charge yourself directly with the ring, but in case you run out of charge or your focus slips…"

"How have you managed, not being able to feel love or hope or compassion? I have tried to imagine it, but the idea is so alien to me that I cannot comprehend it."

"I can feel them just fine. Even using my ring."

She considers that for a moment. "You said that your ring was different to ours. Is that why we have such a problem?"

I shake my head. "No. My ability to feel other things while using my ring comes from a… A great moment of self-comprehension I had last year when I.. saw all of my desires in their proper place. I'm afraid that I don't know if it's possible to train people to undergo the same thing-.{orange}"

"I am low on power."{/}

Koriand'r raises her left hand and looks at her ring. "How do I recharge it?"

"You will eventually get a personal lantern so that you can charge yourself. For now-" I hold out my left hand and call my lantern out of subspace. "-please use mine."

"How do I-?"

The Ophidian leaps out of my lantern and coils around her!

24th July
16:19 GMT

Koriand'r's eyes widen as the Ophidian wraps two coils around her abdomen and another around her left arm before ducking her head to look at Koriand'r's ring. Which is crackling with orange light.

"Koriand'r, this is the Ophidian. The Embodiment of Avarice."

"Is she {blue}friendly{/}?" Her ring dims and the Ophidian pulls her head away slightly.

"Eeh. Could be. Ophidian?"

The Ophidian raises her head. {orange}"Who is this?"

"{/}This is Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran. She's our second recruit."

The Ophidian bends her neck, coil shifting as she leans around to stare Koriand'r in the face. {orange}"New Lantern?"

"{/}I had been planning to give her a little longer to acclimatise-." Koriand'r's ring starts glowing again, light.. appearing to be flowing from the ring into herohdear. "Ophidian, why don't you let her go for the moment?{orange}"

"I cannot feel the Gnat. Is he dead?"

"{/}No, I-.{orange}"

"Why can I not feel the Gnat?"

"{/}We cut him off from the orange light. He can't use it. Can't feel it."

The Ophidian tilts her head to the side. {orange}"He suffers?"{/}

I nod. "Yes, I'm afraid that was-.{orange}"

"I am pleased, my Agent. Make the Gnat suffer. Keep him contained and unable to get anything he wants. Make him know that he will never be able to get anything he wants ever again."

"{/}I don't.. think he's even capable of wanting things at the moment.{orange}"

"Even better! Leave! Him! With! Nothing!"{/}

The {yellow}feedback in Koriand'r{/} is continuing, the woman herself shuddering… "Can do. Ophidian, you're damaging your new Lantern.{orange}"

"Making her more like you."{/}

Yes, I see now. She's trying to get the orange light in Koriand'r to mimic my soul tattoos. But if she keeps forcing more orange light into Koriand'r's soul then the whole network will destabilise. It's not like Larfleeze who was already almost totally attuned to the orange light or me who used magic to make it work, something like that would seriously mess anyone else up. "Ophidian, the whole point of this was to show you different sets of desires. Different ways to want things and different sets of wants. You're destroying something, and once you've done that it becomes something you can't ever have. Is that what you want?"

Her coils immediately loosen, her body moving away from Koriand'r in all directions. {orange}"No. That is the worst thing."{/}

Without the Ophidian's support Koriand'r collapses to the ground. I see that behind her Komand'r has risen to her feet, though she hasn't got as far as offering actual help yet. Koriand'r pushes herself to her feet, {orange}looking{/}-.

{orange}"YOU WILL NOT CONTROL ME!"

Beams of orange light blast from her eyes{/} and strike the Ophidian in the chest. They don't do much other than slightly confuse her. Koriand'r recognises her error almost immediately, {orange}generating construct armour around her body{/} -now why can't she do it like that when we spar?- and {orange}charging the Ophidian with razor-sharp talons outstretched{/}.

Impressive effort, but at best that will do nothing and at worst it might annoy the Ophidian. I fire off six orange tethers which attach to the back of her armour.

Corrupt.

The armour shimmers for a moment-

{orange}"GET OFF ME!"{/}

-and then solidifies as a sword construct slices through my tethers. Okay, no.

"Drain."

Orange mist boils away from Koriand'r's construct armour as it comes apart.

"And peace."

The glow in her eyes blinks out. For a moment I see her normal eyes, then they roll back in her head as she collapses into unconsciousness. I stick a crash mat construct under her to soften her landing.

"And that, Ophidian, is why you have to be careful who you feed more power to than they're ready to cope with."

I pull the crash mat over to me, studying Koriand'r's interior in detail. The orange is glowing, but the rest is.. still there. I put my right hand over her forehead and draw out what I can.

"What.. is that?"

Komand'r has come closer, {orange}staring up at the Ophidian with naked desire evident on her face{/}.

"Ophidian, Princess Komand'r of Tamaran. Our first recruit." Okay, think that's done. I drop my hand and lower the crash mat to the ground. "Princess Komand'r, the Ophidian. The Embodiment of Avarice."

The Ophidian bends down slightly to get a better look at her, forked tongue flicking out as she tastes Komand'r's soul.

"Is it a god?"

"God.. in the sense of an arcane intelligence arising from the Dream? No. God in the sense of a being who is worshipped by others? I don't think anyone worships her, but it isn't impossible. God in the sense of being ludicrously powerful? Yes, yes she is.{orange}"

"Another Lantern? Are there more?"

"{/}No, not yet. I was going to introduce you once they got the hang of using the orange light.{orange}"

"This one is more in tune."{/}

Komand'r looks to me for an explanation. "More 'in tune'?"

"You're better at using your avarice as the driving force behind your actions. That's more or less how the Ophidian perceives the universe. Ophidian, would you please return to my lantern? I'll introduce you to the whole team within a month.{orange}"

"Yes."{/}

Her construct body shimmers for a moment, then disappears. I sigh with relief, then take hold of my personal lantern.

"You.. keep a god in your lantern? Is she what you draw power from?"

"It's-. No, it's complicated, and it isn't strictly speaking necessary to learning to use your ring."

"Is she more powerful than you?"

"Oh yes, but left to her own devices she'd just do what Larfleeze did and go to sleep on a big pile of valuables. Larfleeze had far more power than me and three billion years in which to use it and what did he do? Nothing. I can actually do things with the orange light." I fix her with a steady stare. "You have a power ring; you don't need more power, you need to use the power you already have better. More precision, more control."

Komand'r nods. I'm not certain that I've convinced her, but she appears willing to give me the benefit of the doubt for now.

"Now, how about we run through the Hierarchy of Needs again?"

Komand'r's eyes {orange}linger on my lantern{/} for a moment before nodding. "If we must."

{red}25th July
14:19 GMT -6{/}

"When you said I could come here after school, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

Miss Selton paces uncomfortably inside the isolation chamber, casting the occasional scathing look through the observation window when she thinks my attention is directed elsewhere.

"I know, and I do appreciate you assisting me like this." Air flow… Good. Response… Minimal. Excellent. "The test subject-."

"Don't call him a test subject."

"Alright… Ah, test.. volunteer?" That gets me a look, but she doesn't otherwise comment. "Has had continual exposure to the control.. volunteer for ten minutes with no ill effect."

"Ping."

"Just so."

It's so good to have a Box again, even if it is like having a Sphere I can't just escape by walking up some stairs constantly attached to me. Himon was.. pleasant enough, once Scott explained things to him and to the crowd of Lowlies at the resistance gathering. I assume that Barda killed Amazing Grace before the mob could beat her to death as a result of all of the superhero exposure she's been getting lately; there's no way the old her would have been anything like that merciful. I'm still not sure if he incorporated the yellow sigil for decoration or if it's so much a part of my nature that it had to be included or… What? Maybe that's just the shape this Mother Box has and the resemblance is a coincidence.

Miss Selton folds her arms across her chest, her gaze moving all around the small room and its rather limited furniture. "I'm only doing this because Lynne asked me, okay?"

"Understood. Unlocking the door now."

I press the button which unlocks the inner door, hearing a dull clank from inside the chamber. Still no reaction.

"Are you sure this is safe? I don't think a vampire with fire powers would live all that long."

"He's responded well to the treatment so far, and has shown no response to simulated scent or visual triggers. And he's been smelling you for ten minutes with no observable affect."

She doesn't look entirely convinced. "Why is it you've got me doing this? Rather than anyone else?"

"Doctor Robbins is post-menopausal. Ms Black is heavily cyberised, Jean isn't Human, Miss Amane is a New God, Miss Shimmer used to be a Pony and Lynne hasn't reached full physical maturity. If it makes you feel any better, none of his previous victims reanimated."

"Not really." She glances at the door. "Oh, just get on with it."

I press the button to access the intercom on the other part of the isolation chamber. "Alright, you can come on through now."

The.. hybrid whose name I can't think looks up at the camera for a moment, then rises from his bench. "Mister Grayven, are you sure about this?"

"There are no certainties in this life, my boy. But if you haven't reacted by now I'd be very surprised if you were going to." Apparently that wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Drones with holy water sprays and force field projectors are on hand just in case you relapse. But it probably won't come to that. Come on, get this done and you and your brothers can have a walk around the rest of the facility."

"Why not my sisters as well?"

"Because male and female bodies work differently and the formulation which works on you doesn't work anything like as well on them."

He nods, still looking slightly downcast. Oh for goodness sake, if he doesn't get up I'm going to have one of the drones drag-. Finally he walks towards the door at the speed of a condemned man heading for the scaffold.

"Miss Selton, he's heading through now."

"And if he turns into a freaky monster it's okay to burn him."

"Until he's no longer capable of attacking you or containment activates, yes. But that shouldn't be necessary."

"Right…" She starts pacing again, realises what she's doing and forces herself to sit down. She tenses as.. the hybrid pushes the door open. Pleasant enough looking youth, {yellow}nervous as anything{/}. But he volunteered the moment I asked. He's got a real sense of duty. She's the first person other than a blood relative he's been in close physical proximity to without anything barring the way. The first adult he hasn't eaten. {yellow}He freezes up{/} and the two of them just sort of stare at each other for a moment.

"Feel anything, lad?"

And don't I feel like a prize ninny for having to call him 'lad'. You'd think that becoming a god would have bypassed the whole 'can't say my old name' problem. Or being Anti-Lifed. I mean, exactly how much of the original me is left at this point?

"{yellow}N-no, Mister Grayven{/}."

I watch him on the monitor for a moment. "Breathe, boy."

He remains still for a moment, then takes a very shallow breath.

"Still with us?"

"Y-yeah. I can smell-" He looks at Miss Selton. "-you, but it doesn't, like… Trigger anything."

"Glad to hear it." She turns to me. "Can I come out now?"

"Not just yet. Would you mind changing?"

She frowns. "What?"

"Not you, him."

"Oh yeah, I haven't seen your scary-" She turns back just as the hybrid shifts into his Demonic Manbat form. "-{yellow}mmmode{/}." The youth shifts nervously as she stares at it, jumper and shorts stretched awkwardly around his altered torso and legs. "Huuuuh."

"Smell anything now?"

This was the tricky bit. When they're in Human form their supernatural power is turned right down. Probably to improve their chance of successful infiltration, something Vampires and Succubae have in common. It turned out that -once Miss Shimmer and Zatanna started working on it in earnest- coming up with an alchemical solution that worked on Human-mode was reasonably easy. Monster-mode is far harder. Not only is their sense of smell far more acute but they tend to throw off externally applied magics far quicker.

"Yes. No. She's still there, I know she's… Ready-"

"Excuse me?"

"-but I don't want to eat her."

Miss Selton opens her mouth, then shuts it again. Then she turns back to the window. "Are we done now?"

"Unless you want to perform an auto-erotic act, yes."

"{red}What{/}?"

"It would be the strongest possible trigger for his-."

"No. I don't."

"Then, yes." I press the button to release the electronic lock on the external door, then walk over to open the manual component. "Out you come."

"Finally." Miss Selton is out of the door at a pace just shy of a jog. "Am I done now?"

"If you'd like to head up to the psionics lab, Jean is ready to perform your latest knowledge transfer. Thank you for your-" She's already walking past me. "-cooperation."

"Mister Grayven?"

I turn back to where.. the boy is standing at the door. Back in Human mode without prompting, very good. "Come on out. I'll give you the tour myself."

"{violet}Could we{/}..? {violet}Could we let my brothers out as well first{/}?"

Hm. Testing them individually would be better, but all of their initial results came back the same as his…

"If you like. Let's do one last round of scent testing first, then we can sort you all out some proper quarters."

He {blue}beams at me{/}, then dashes off to tell them the good news.

26th July
06:42 GMT

"Koriand'r, you're-" Construct point defence laser turret seventeen fires, striking her on her construct armour's left hip. "-too slow again."

Her construct wobbles for a moment, then she vanishes in a flash of orange. A moment later main gun three fires, two faux gravity rippers cutting a path through empty space.

"Better."

"{orange}Haagh{/}!"

{orange}Komand'r transitions into a blind spot{/} behind turret four, {orange}cutting at its anchor point{/} with an orange bolt of exactly the level of force required. Normally that would be protected by a force field, but in this exercise they've already done enough damage to shut that down.

I slowly bring the ship construct around, as if the pilot were attempting to bring other guns to bear. At the same time a construct hatch opens and construct marines leap into the void, guns firing. Real Citadel marines aren't much of a threat to Lanterns at anything less than Zerg swarm levels, but the first few times we did this neither sister could resist stopping to fight them. They've both learned to desire at a higher Maslowian level since then. Killing the bastards who are right here is less important to them than killing all of the bastards for certain. Urge indulgence is less important than ultimate goal realisation. I don't have anything much to compare the speed with which they've internalised my lessons yet. I had only theory and comics to support my own early efforts, and I was as much concerned with not going insane and learning how to superhero as I was in trying to become an efficient Lantern.

Komand'r {orange}creates a tower shield to block{/} the construct marines' first volley, {orange}scans the ship{/} and then {orange}transmits something{/} before {orange}transitioning away{/}. Alright, the Citadelian captain would know that the shields and point defences on that area of the ship are down. His response would be to accelerate and spin, preventing the attackers getting an easy attack run at that-.

{orange}Warning: avarice detected.{/}

Oh yes?

Koriand'r warps back, {orange}eyes and forearms glowing brilliant orange{/} as she {orange}fires an almighty blast at the vulnerable section of the ship{/}.

Ring, simulate.

{orange}Compliance.{/}

The construct around me shudders and jumps sideways in space. That's a lot of power she's putting out. I'll wait to be pleased until I find out how mentally coherent she is at the moment. The ship construct's armour keeps together -sort of- but it buckles and its rigidity is causing the simulated interior of the ship to twist and break. Non-critical systems are the first to fail -the Branx are pretty good ship designers- but with the shockwaves passing through the ship it's only a matter of time-.

{orange}Primary combat power disabled.{/}

The ship's main guns and primary shield die at once, and its rate of acceleration falls dramatically. What the captain's response to that would be depends on the captain. In some places, a ship may be allowed to surrender in that sort of situation. In Vega, unless you're worth a ransom anyone striking their colours should expect either immediate death or enslavement. But I don't think a Citadelian officer would try that unless they knew help was coming, in order to survive while their allies beat off whatever had attacked them.

If you're being boarded by a superior force, detonating your own main power plant or sabotaging your own FTL drive to make a death-jump is a viable -if obviously fatal- tactic. But given how force transmits badly through a vacuum it doesn't do much to anyone outside the ship and usually isn't easy to rig, ships being designed to not destroy themselves. Slightly more sensible options include using reserve power generators to charge your FTL system's capacitors to either get to help or at least get away from whatever's killing you, or depressurising part of the ship to turn faster and bring your small guns to bear.

Yes, that sounds like something a competent Citadelian might do.

The ship construct lurches around in a semi-controlled fashion, combining the shove Koriand'r is providing with the release of its own 'atmosphere' to turn and bring turrets to bear on her. The moment they get the angle they light up… And expend themselves on the {orange}construct barrier{/} which Komand'r has {orange}put up to protect{/} her sister.

{orange}Ship damage critical.{/}

The hull armour is bent inwards, its own mass crushing the interior sections closest to the hull. Marines throw themselves from every exit point, shooting as they come. But the princesses have enough presence of mind to keep moving, keeping the damaged part of the hull in line of sight and Komand'r's shield between them and the majority of the incoming fire. Infantry heavy weapons can be a threat to Lanterns who are locked in place, but they aren't routinely issued to marines set mostly to repel boarders. Too much risk of doing damage to your own ship's insides. By the time they're out of storage and deployed-.

The ship's hull gives way, reserve power failing across most of its structure as the ship cracks in two. In all but the most poorly built ships this sort of damage doesn't result in a colossal ship-devouring explosion, but there's no way a ship in this condition can keep fighting.

I dismiss the construct, Koriand'r's beam shooting past me into deep space for a second or two before cutting out. I turn in their direction and take a careful look at them. No injuries, Koriand'r is {orange}glowing intensely orange{/} but she's mastering it, the sheer power of it diminishing as I watch. She is also managing to avoid doing what she did last time she went for a big shot and trying to focus on another colour as a quick attack-cancel. They're both wearing spacesuits but the sudden loss of manoeuvrability resulted in her being completely vulnerable to the ship's fire.

"Well done." I drift closer, taking time to check that they aren't about to blast me. Hasn't happened since day one, but I'm pushing them harder and I certainly know how the orange light can mess around with your thought processes. "How are you both feeling?"

I can just about make out Komand'r's smile through her faceplate. "{orange}Victorious{/}. You weren't going easy on us?"

"I was matching the performance of a Citadelian battleship as closely as I could, neither going easy nor going hard."

She raises her right hand to admire her ring. "Not so difficult at all. Though.. I can see that an entire fleet of such ships would be a far harder prospect."

I nod. "I'm glad that you can keep your perspective like that. I was also impressed with your cooperation. It's nice to know that you've overcome that particular problem. Koriand'r?"

"I… I am… Finding it hard not to focus on a single target when I… Make that sort of attack."

"Not surprising. We can do some practice, have you needing to attack and defend simultaneously. Are you alright to continue now, or do you need a break?"

"I think it would be best if… I am sorry, the mental state I must occupy to use so much power is… Uncomfortable."

I nod again. "Alright, let's head back to Tamaran. Komand'r, if you would?{orange}"

Orange light extends outwards from her, enveloping Koriand'r and I{/}. Koriand'r's been able to produce higher peak energy outputs than her sister by a good margin ever since the Ophidian touched her, but she doesn't have the control to match yet. That'll be useful if the Controllers try to argue for an alternate system to the one I want to use.

{orange}Alert: warp in progress.{/}

The stars shift as Tamaran reappears. Heh, right where we left it. The orange glow around us dims as Komand'r checks her work. She seems satisfied, and begins flying back towards the planet. A moment later Koriand'r follows on behind her and I bring up the rear.

"Alright, both of you: how does destroying an enemy starship fit the Hierarchy of Needs?"

Komand'r responds first. "Basic: destroying something trying to kill us provides safety from physical harm, and allows us to rest without keeping an eye on the sky at all times."

"Good. Koriand'r?"

"Psychological: cooperative feats promote feelings of unity amongst those who must work together to achieve them. Esteem is gained from serving the general good by destroying those who threaten the community."

"Good. And what else?"

27th July
02:37 GMT

Possibly due to the… Difficulties the Citadel is currently experiencing, their picket around Rashashoon is somewhat reduced from my first visit. None of Admiral Dakyn's flotilla, obviously, but one of the two which were guarding the outskirts of the system has also been withdrawn.

"Is that it?" Komand'r looks at the assembled ships contemptuously. "I was expecting something more substantial."

Koriand'r frowns. "I thought that Rashashoon's commerce made it an important part of the Citadel Empire. Why is it not better defended?"

"If I had to guess, a combination of the fact that three out of four of the groups in this region who could threaten it are at peace, and the Citadel's own internal difficulties. If I were Emperor Damyn, I'd want to keep my Admirals where I could see them. At least until my throne was secure."

Something about that arouses Komand'r interest. "Amalak, Jarko and the Spider Guild. Who is the fourth? The Green Lanterns?"

"The Crown Imperium has a large enough fleet that they could capture Rashashoon. But their own worlds would be left undefended and they'd be bled white by raiders doing it. And I don't think their fleet could survive the full wrath of the Citadel and its allies."

Koriand'r has turned her attention from the fleet to Rashashoon itself. "Are there Tamaranians down there?"

"I didn't give you a power ring so that you could ask me questions you can easily answer yourself. If you want data, use your ring to get it."

She raises her left hand, {orange}orange lights flickering around her left arm and head{/}. "{orange}Yes, there are{/}. {orange}Tamaranians, Karnans, even a few Branx{/}. Other peoples as well." She lowers her arm, lights dying down a little. "Why Branx? Why would the Citadel permit its ally's people to be treated so?"

"Slavery isn't always a species thing. Sometimes it's a result of an individual's circumstances."

She nods, then her eyes narrow. "{orange}I will recover them once we are done with the Citadel{/}."

I smile inside my armour. I had been slightly concerned that she might insist on liberating them immediately. I'm not sure whether my training should take credit or their own natures, but both of them have retained their facility for long term planning as well as I could have hoped. "If you're ready?{orange}"

Construct armour{/} appears around Komand'r, while Koriand'r's {orange}environmental shield flares{/}. She has trouble with desiring armour as a baseline state. Apparently, solar power was so vital to empowering Tamaranian warriors for so long that as a culture they tend to disdain armour.

"{orange}Ready{/}." / "{orange}Ready{/}."

"Remember; don't destroy the battleship in your enthusiasm. We need it intact." I remember the Evil Overlord list. "Unless that would put you at undue risk. There are other battleships."

"Hmpf."

I'm not sure whether Komand'r finds the fact I think that I'd need to explain it amusing or the implication that the two of them aren't perfectly capable of doing what the mission requires.

"Go.{orange}"

There's a burst of orange light as they both accelerate away at superluminal speeds{/}, heading towards the Citadel ships. Nothing else in that region of space and we appeared far enough away that I doubt that they'll have detected our presence. Standard practice for Citadel ships is to maintain moderate shields whenever they're away from a safe shipyard, but they don't go to full combat power unless they're about to initiate an attack or they come under one.

Which means that those ships are currently far more vulnerable than the construct ships they've been practising against.

A point defence frigate is torn apart as Komand'r {orange}warps the space it's occupying{/} and then {orange}fires an orange beam{/} through its centre. She's moving away as Koriand'r starts her assault on the battleship, {orange}precise bolts of orange flying from her hands{/} and striking the point defence turrets around the primary drive housing. A sensible thing for a small attacker to do: a ship that can't manoeuvre or fly away is far easier to kill than one which can.

I watch Komand'r {orange}batter down the shields of another frigate{/} and {orange}fire some sort of rock drill construct at the ship{/}, crunching through the hull and mashing the interior.

{orange}Ships are increasing power generation.{/}

I nod to myself. I supplied both Komand'r and Koriand'r with crumbler rounds, but neither were able to reliably create, load and fire construct railguns in combat. Then again, they're managing well enough without them. Perhaps my dream of a perfect kill was interfering with their actualisation of a good kill?

{orange}Ships attempting to initiate long range communications.{/}

I nod again. Ring, monitor and prepare to jam.

{orange}Compliance.

"Captain Gralg of the Assailant to Citadel Complex. I'm under attack by-"{/}

Now.

{orange}"-Orange Lanterns! I need assistance! Any ships in the-. Citadel Complex? Citadel Complex, respond!"{/}

Perfect.

The Assailant accelerates and rolls, attempting to line up their heavier topside guns with Koriand'r. Their point defence guns are already firing, but after a few painful kicks up the arse from me she's gotten the hang of automatic evasion. It's not light speed dodging, but while lasers are light speed their mounts aren't.

The other ships are moving into position to assist. The Citadel uses a fleet composition not unlike that of the United States navy, with battleships taking the place of carriers. The other ships are literally there to support the battleship and none of them are more than a tenth of its size. I watch as Komand'r checks her lines of sight and ducks behind another point defence frigate, using it to shield her from the other vessels while she {orange}uses construct claws to pull apart its shields{/} before {orange}firing orange energy pulses{/} at the ship itself. Two cruisers accelerate away from the flagship, trying to get a shot at her. Too late for the frigate as its armour cracks and crumbles under the power ring assault. A chunk of the hull comes away and the bridge loses power and atmosphere. A well run ship can carry on fighting once decapitated, but as a rule Citadelians don't have the organisation.

Komand'r decides not to bother finding out for certain and {orange}fires another beam at the ship's unarmoured interior{/} before {orange}dodging between the oncoming medium-sized ships{/}. That's not a good-. Oh, I see what they're doing; they're giving the point defence frigates the most time they can to get their shots off. The frigates have turned so that the weapons on one side can shoot at Koriand'r who is still attacking the Assailant while their other facing can shoot Komand'r as she engages the cruisers. The low power of their weapons isn't much of a threat to the combat-power shields of their larger brethren but they're still capable of harming a Lantern who isn't specifically trying to block them.

Komand'r {orange}slashes at one of the primary turrets of the first cruiser{/} as her construct armour begins cracking up under the weight of point defence fire. Koriand'r is forced to {orange}create a shield construct{/} to protect her while she {orange}attempts to thrust her orange-coated hands through the Assailant's armour{/}.

{orange}Alert: battleship's drive charging.{/}

Oh? I thought they'd keep trying for longer than this. Maybe the Captain has realised that his ship isn't really contributing against such small targets. I suppose that it doesn't really matter.

Komand'r flies past the cruisers and {orange}envelops herself in orange, diving through the shields of a frigate and into the ship beneath{/}. Hiding in the hull, yes, that might help. Koriand'r turns away from the hull to generate a gun construct and using it to fire a burst of broad spectrum radiation to blind her attackers before switching position.

{orange}Alert: battleship's drive activating.

"{/}Pull back now."

The Assailant shimmers and the orange glow from my ring matches it as I prepare to intercept its flight.

27th July
02:41 GMT

The most powerful ships on the seas of Earth are aircraft carriers. The most powerful weapons of Earth overpower its most powerful defensive technologies by a huge margin. These two factors have led quite a lot of science fiction writers to assume that space combat would be similar, small attack ships being the primary way of dealing damage due to their weapons being capable of damaging larger ships while larger ships would struggle to hit them. Star Wars was perhaps the most extreme example, with the first Death Star being destroyed by a single fighter. Babylon 5 had a similar dynamic, Farscape had the Peacekeepers working from Command Carriers, Battlestar Galactica had… Well, Battlestars.

The only counterexample that immediately comes to mind is Star Trek where fighters generally didn't exist until the liberation of Deep Space Nine during the Dominion War and big ships pretty much ruled. Most ships featured… Actually, I can't think of a counterexample. They didn't bother with point defences, and I don't remember armour getting mentioned until the Defiant was built. Phasers and disruptors, torpedoes and shields was what made good ships. Agility meant little; your enemy would always be able to see you and you were mostly fighting with light speed weapons at close range. You needed big ships to contain big reactors and you needed big reactors to power your big shields and power the weapons you were going to use to punch through your enemy's big shields. The reactors on small ships weren't powerful enough to power weapons capable of damaging big ships or shielding the small ships well enough to enable them to survive.

Real space combat is… Quite a lot more variable. The Citadel doesn't want to get overrun by attack craft. However, their warriors don't make particularly good pilots. And they've got a bit of a thing about their battleships being the biggest around. So, they have an entire class of frigates whose job it is to shoot small things and leave shooting big things to their battleships. And that -rather than cowardice- is why Captain Gralg is leaving the combat zone. He'd rather fight us, but he's had the lesson hammered into him that we're not something his flagship is designed to be able to fight.

His ship also isn't all that manoeuvrable, but it does have the best FTL speed of any ship in the local Citadel fleet. That's because its FTL system isn't having to fight against the ship's momentum and sheer mass to make it go from point A to point B. It can just dump full combat power into the drive and boof, off it goes. Normally it would have to hold back a bit so as to avoid leaving its support ships behind, but since the aim here is to leave them behind that isn't something Captain Gralg is worrying about. He's worrying about leaving the two Lanterns attacking his fleet behind and he's worrying about warning the Citadel.

He isn't worrying about me, sitting directly between him and the Citadel in interstellar space with an interdiction field construct. He isn't worried because at the point he set out he knew that there wasn't an interdiction field along his flight path. The only way to intercept his ship would be to know exactly when he left, and at that point he'd already be moving vastly faster than light. FTL sensors and comms that good are rare, and the sheer volume of space would usually foil such an attempt anyway.

Usually.

And then any potential hijacker would get to -if you'll excuse the phrase- witness the firepower of a fully armed and operational battleship. Unless they knew exactly where it would appear and could get inside its primary shield envelope before it could recalibrate. And even then, battleships are a source of pride for the Citadel in a way their smaller ships aren't. These things often have Psion-built enhancements like ludicrously tough hull armour for just tanking hits, prow spatial disruptors for horrifyingly effective ramming actions, highly acute targeting sensors and high-fidelity assault teleporters. I would not want to fight these with a fleet.

Fortunately, I'm not a ship.

The Assailant appears immediately before me in a flash of red, my ring immediately checking the damage,-

{orange}Battleship drive inoperative.{/}

-shoving me around to match velocity and rotation as the battleship's hull zooms towards me at a {yellow}worrisome{/} pace-

{orange}Movement matched.{/}

-and the shields come up behind me and a salvo of crumbler rounds fire at the hull directly in front of me.

{orange}Hull breached.{/}

And while the weaker inner shields quickly re-establish themselves, I've got just enough time to transition inside.

The universe slows as the Citadelian soldiers in the above-port marines station try reacting to my presence. In battle, the Citadel uses marines for boarding ships that have been crippled but not killed. They use power armour and their natural strength to force their way through the damaged hull and engage the crew directly. If this ship has high-fidelity teleporters then there'll be another marine detachment assigned to that as well. Those aren't sent into wrecks but into ships still fighting back, a high risk move for those dispatched as the device has to be careful to match relative velocity if they don't want the marines to get turned to paste inside their target. Of course, if they aren't trying to capture their enemy then they can just send over a bomb instead.

Construct armour forms around me and filaments move out. The process is a lot faster than it used to be, but it's still something that at this speed I can see happening. The Citadel soldiers around me are already at battle stations, armed and armoured. The ring shows me the arms that are already moving to bring their weapons to bear on me and-

{orange}Warning: exotic transportation defence active.{/}

-warns me that transitioning while on board wouldn't be clever.

The robot turrets are the highest priority. Only three of them, as their simple programming just isn't adaptable enough for chaotic boarding operations. In situations like this on the other hand the fact that they can't be surprised and don't need thinking time makes them the main threat. By pure chance the one furthest away had its main turret pointing my way when I appeared. It noted that I didn't match Citadelian profiles and opened fire immediately. Plasma rather than laser, which is why the first shot is intercepted by my construct armour rather than striking my armour and environmental shield. Three shots hit me before my crumbler rounds strike it, the first frying its shield generator and the second hitting its main battery.

It gets a fourth shot as it starts to explode and I move on to the other two at the same time as reaching out towards the closest marines with beams of orange light. The second turret manages a single shot which strikes my left shoulder before being shot through with a crumbler round. The third doesn't even manage that, having been facing in the opposite direction to the point where I came in and then the beams hit the marines.

Citadel marine armour is good. Hermetically sealed against vacuum exposure, armoured and force field protected and containing all the integrated communications and sensor technology that any people with pretensions to interstellar dominance should possess.

I have a power ring.

The beams of orange light smash aside the force field, bore through the helmet and strike the Citadelian beneath.

Brand.

{orange}Branding.{/}

I shove off, thrusting myself through the room. As sped up as my mind is-

{orange}Mental pathway damage limit reached. Acceleration discontinued.{/}

-isn't any more! Plasma bolts slam into me, other Citadelians and the walls, floor and ceiling! Beams of orange light lash out in return, punching through armour and branding those beneath with my mark. My construct armour fails, my armour's kinetic barrier doing little to absorb the heat of the plasma bolts. I keep moving, Citadel soldiers who have already been branded charging their former comrades as I fill them with the desire to aid me. I form construct tower shields as the unaffected soldiers turn their weapons towards the ones who work for me, and use the momentary respite to release the Praexis Demons.

I need as many alive as possible. Eat their guns.

A moment later the fire that had been heading my way drops to next to nothing as the swarm makes itself a more urgent target. Demons evaporate under plasma fire only to reappear from my ring, soldiers branded and not punch, shoulder charge and shoot one another while I fire beam after beam to convert the unaffected.

No alarms, I note. The Citadel doesn't use shipwide alarms, preferring to transmit the messages to individual soldiers.

The three surviving free marines realise that they've lost the room and fall back, the fortified door sealing itself behind them. But they haven't got anywhere to go; none of the Assailant's parasite craft have FTL and I'm still jamming their communications. I land and look at my troops, replacing my construct armour and repairing my power armour as I do so. Around me, marines with orange brands glowing on their chests under their armour pick one another up, strip the dead of their weapons and apply medkits to their wounded.

Good. Now for the rest of the ship.

27th July
02:57 GMT

Given that boarding actions are a feature of local warfare Citadelian bridges are designed to be tough. Bridge stations are fortified, protected by the same material as the outer hull as well as weak force fields. The whole bridge could be exposed to space without preventing anyone here doing their jobs. In addition, automatic gun turrets can emerge from the ceiling and the walls to support the standing marine force. In most fights it is massively excessive, and if I'd tried charging the marines working for me into here I doubt that any of them would have lived.

"Ready, Strike Team Leader?"

The main generators are already under the control of my branded marines. Between them and those we've killed, the Captain now commands a force that is about thirty percent of what he started out with and no way to counterattack. But the loyalists still hold the bridge -which on a Citadelian ship also contains the primary computer core- and the location I want to capture next. Exotic technologies.

The hulking Citadelian next to me makes the clenched right fist gesture of readiness. Then he appears to hesitate before returning it to his gun. "{orange}Master{/}?"

"Yes. Speak."

"{orange}The soldiers inside{/}. {orange}Two of them are my batch-brothers{/}."

"I'll take them alive if at all possible."

"{orange}Thank you, master{/}."

It's fascinating. Maybe it's due to their implants and how accustomed they were to having the First's thoughts constantly in theirs, but the Citadelians are adapting to the brand far better than I expected them to. I thought they'd end up like Doctor Jones, near-stupefied with their desire overwritten. As it is, other than a 180 in their loyalties they're just as functional as they were before. Or maybe it's their familiarity with the sorts of task I'm asking them to perform?

Exotic technologies is home to the device preventing me from transitioning and -as it turns out- phasing. Transitioning is useful but not essential. Phasing on the other hand is essential to my plan to take the bridge. It's also home to the ship's Psion work detail. None of them are top tier researchers but I suspect that we're about to run into something unpleasant.

Which is what Praexis Demons are for.

I don't even bother firing crumbler rounds at the force field protecting the doorway, I just wave my left arm and the Demons start sucking on it. Exotic technologies is quite close to the main generators because it needs so much power. The force field and 'facilities' stuff runs on internal power but there was a remote shut down built into the generator controls which was intended to be used in the event that one of the devices went wrong. Or the Psions did something the Citadel didn't like. Exotic technologies also has its own computer system which means that I don't have access to a record of exactly what they've got in there. Standard protocol says that if the shield is up then most of the marines have already left…

The force field goes down, my Demons faceplanting into the reinforced door beyond. Immediately, a Citadelian breaching team comes forward and stabs into it with the x-ionised blades I provided to them. Making precise cuts with the swords is not easy while wearing that armour, but trying to use explosives to get through would be an exercise in futility. A construct would work, but I don't want to give anyone watching more information on my precise capacities than I absolutely have to. And if those inside suddenly open the door I want the marines to take the brunt of whatever attack they've put together in my place.

Huh. Thinking about it, these guys might end up being the last Citadelians left. Sobering.

Cuts made around the edge of the door the breaching team plant clamps on its surface and get a solid grip. The second line squad moves up behind them, guns at the ready. Praexis Demons hover over their heads, ready to surge forward and eat anything that causes me any trouble.

"Breach."

The breaching team lift and push forward, the huge wedges of fortified door they cut free acting as palisades as they enter the exotic technology chamber. As soon as the gaps appear the Praexis Demons fly forward and flow around them. I get a flash of the interior as a plasma bolt from the marine squad inside destroys a Demon and sends it back to my ring. Six marines in cover behind heavy machinery. No support weapons. No sign of the Psions.

The palisades start to take hits, but the breaching team push forward to give the marines behind them space and a moment later my side opens fire. They're mostly just trying to force those inside to keep their heads down; there's no chance they could penetrate the door shields with the weapons they're using but they could get a lucky hit. I send a couple of Praxis Demons to get a look at the rest of the room-.

Agh, some sort of drone weapon. Small, but rapid firing and powerful enough to destroy my Praexis Demons. Eh, as long as you don't try shooting them in the mouth that doesn't actually take too much. The rest of the Praexis try swarming the marines, who respond by stepping back into cover and switching their guns to plasma-flamethrower mode. The Praexis Demons evaporate before their inferno, but that does obscure their line of sight somewhat. I dart forward, flying close to the ceiling as I move around the breaching team and lash out at the defenders' sides with orange beams.

"Nonono!"

Not a Citadelian, they don't breach communications discipline. Who else? Psion, presumably. This section has internal doors I can't scan past, but I can't-

{orange}Brand complete.{/}

-tell which of them…

{orange}Brand complete.{/}

I form a railgun and load a crumbler round and then fire it at the closest door. A circle of the sensor dampening material disappears, revealing a store room.

"Now!"

The universe slows. Really, they should know not to give me audible cues like that.

A door on the other side of the room opens… Quite quickly, for a door. Still pretty slow to me. On the other side three Psions are hiding at the back of a electronics workshop while a {yellow}terrified fourth mans a stationary gun{/}. Even as the door gets wide enough apart for me to see them there's a sort of small distortion in the air immediately in front of it. It was probably set to fire as soon as the door got wide enough open for it to fire. It's pointing directly at me so I start moving at the same time as I mentally signal the Praexis Demons to attack it.

{orange}Brand complete.{/}

The closest ones will reach it in slightly less time than it would take me to create a laser construct and shoot it, and are far better at getting around defences.

{orange}Brand complete.{/}

There's a faint movement in the air between the gun and I, which seems to spread out as it reaches the hot and electrically charged air between the Citadelians. What's left hits me a glancing blow… And doesn't appear to do anything very much. My construct armour trembles slightly but beyond that I don't appear to be affected.

End acceleration.

{orange}Compliance.{/}

The Praexis surge forward, the one closest to the gun chomping down on the muzzle and biting it off. {yellow}The Psion falls back in terror{/}-

"{yellow}I surrender{/}! {yellow}I surrender{/}!"

And the one I assume to be either the most intelligent or the most desperate {yellow}waves his empty hands to try and get my attention{/}.

{orange}Brand complete.{/}

Amplify.

{orange}Compliance.

"{/}Accepted. Lie on the floor and make no aggressive movements."

{yellow}They can't obey fast enough{/}.

{orange}Brands complete.{/}

That's the lot. "Cease fire."

Immediately, my marines stop attacking. I float in the direction of the cowering Psions.

The one who surrendered {yellow}looks up from where he lies on the floor{/}. "{yellow}Please don't turn us into constructs{/}!"

"Alright. I won't. But you work for me, now."

{yellow}He nods and smiles in the most toady way he can manage{/}.

"Now get up. You're going to be turning some of these devices off for me."

27th July
04:23 GMT

The door into the bridge opens and my Lanterns stroll through, Komand'r looking at each of the marines on guard duty with extreme suspicion. "So. A success?"

I step away from the captain's station and spread my arms wide. "What does it look like?"

Once I had exotic technologies under control, I could just phase up through the bridge floor and brand Captain Gralg. Naturally, as captain, his command station is the most heavily fortified though -in a remarkable display of sagacity- he didn't have access to anything that would let him override the turrets. Still, my ability to phase out, dropping underneath the deck and then phasing back in at each bridge station made overrunning the bridge a doddle.

Komand'r doesn't look convinced. "And they are now loyal to you?"

"Sort of. I modified their desires so that they now want to serve me as they once wanted to serve the Citadel."

I see a {orange}glimmer{/} of desire from her at that, at the idea of having a legion of soldiers with no thought but how they may best please you. "You didn't tell me that was something we could do."

Koriand'r on the other hand looks a little unwell. "You can.. make people feel whatever you want them to?"

"I can make them want things or not want things, yes. I don't know if you can. It took me a while to learn, and assimilation is much more straight forward." Koriand'r still looks uneasy. "Would you rather I killed them?"

"Rather than violating their minds? I understand that you had to do this to the captain, but all of the rest? {orange}Yes{/}."

"Simpleton." Komand'r sneers. "You would really rather he have {orange}killed every last one of them{/}? And what if the Citadel Complex demands the chance to scan the ship's interior before allowing it past the inner defences? 'Captain Gralg, what happened to your crew?'."

She doesn't look happier. "If it makes you feel better, I can remove it once we're finished." She nods, mildly mollified. "What state did you leave the rest of the fleet in?"

Komand'r grins. "{orange}Not a single ship was left capable of moving under its own power{/}. {orange}It was glorious{/}."

"And the exterior of this ship? It needs to look like it's been in a fight?"

Komand'r had walked past me, strolling up to one of the marines and shoving his helmet with her right hand. His armour is far too heavy and resilient to be moved by her push, but he moves his right hand up to knock her away. "Hm. Not mindless."

"No, very much not mindless." I turn to Koriand'r. "How does the ship look?"

"The damage I caused to the hull during the initial attack is quite visible, and the hole you made is also noticeable. There should not be any difficulty in convincing the Citadel that it is genuine."

I nod. "Good. Captain, how long until we arrive?"

"{orange}A little under an hour, master, though we will reach the outer perimeter shortly{/}." He smiles at me. "{orange}It is good to have clear direction again{/}."

Koriand'r's face falls. "Did you.. make him.. enjoy it?"

"No. Citadelians are used to having the First's thoughts in their minds thanks to their cybernetic implants. When I killed him, that stopped. If he says that he likes it, then… He does."

Komand'r looks the captain over. "Will they survive the battle, do you think?"

"You'd be surprised. Captain Gralg has been filling me in on recent Citadel politics. Captain?"

The Captain grins. "{orange}Any Citadelian who rises high enough to become Emperor inevitably becomes unpopular with all of the rest{/}. {orange}We all share the First Citadelian's desire to conquer and control{/}. {orange}His thoughts are our thoughts, his blood our blood{/}. {orange}Emperors inevitably become soft and indolent{/}. {orange}With the First Citadelian's voice in our heads, we just grumbled about being told what to do by the Emperor until the First too grew tired of them and had one of his admirals depose him{/}."

Komand'r nods in understanding. "And now he isn't telling you not to…"

"{orange}The only reason he isn't already dead is that the Admirals can't decide which of them should take his place{/}."

"If he had any sense, he'd already have nominated one of them as his heir to try and break up their cartel."

"{orange}As you say, master{/}. {orange}All I have to do to keep the fleet off me is declare for one Admiral over the others{/}."

"And while he's doing that, we'll be hunting down the Emperor and the computer core. Our aim is to turn the Citadel Complex's defences against the rest of the fleet."

Komand'r nods. "And {orange}the shipyards{/}?"

"No guarantees, but we are aiming to kill everything. Once the fleet -present company excepted- is vapour, there won't be anything to stop us taking anything large enough to be worth keeping and towing it back to Tamaran."

"We just have to survive first."

"If you'd like to back out-."

Her face hardens. "Hardly. I'm simply trying to be realistic." She thinks for a moment. "What would you say to us-?"

The navigator turns towards me. "{orange}Master, we will be returning to subluminal velocity imminently{/}."

"Understood." I turn and head towards the main bridge doors. "Your highnesses, if you wouldn't mind? The Emperor won't demand to scan the entire ship but he will want to look at the bridge."

I hear them fall in behind me as I pass through the doors and head towards the lifts.

Koriand'r rises off the ground and comes alongside me on my right. "Do you know the size of the fleet which the Citadel has guarding Citadel Complex?"

"Yes." I raise my right hand and generate an approximate diagram of their disposition. "Assuming that nothing has changed since yesterday, one dreadnaught, twelve battleships like this one, about two hundred cruisers and far too many smaller vessels. In addition, there will probably be at least one battleship-equivalent from the Branx and from the Psions, and perhaps a smattering of Gordanian ships. And at least eight times the tonnage in static defences. Not counting Citadel Complex itself or the anti-ship weapons on the planet below."

Komand'r comes alongside me on my left. "Far too many for us to fight directly. Unless you've been holding anything else back?"

"If I had to fight them directly, I would join with the Ophidian. I do know how to use more sophisticated constructs than I have shown you so far, but they require more specialist training. I believe-" I land in the lift. "-that this plan is sound." I swirl my right hand around, generating a new image. "I suggest familiarising yourselves-" A bolt of orange flashes from my ring to each of theirs. "-with the internals of the Citadel Complex."

They nod as I use my ring to access the bridge. We're out of FTL and the face of a Citadelian I don't particularly recognise is on the main screen.

"What are you doing back, Gralg?"

"{orange}We were attacked, Admiral{/}. {orange}By Orange Lanterns{/}. {orange}My ship is in urgent need of repairs and my fleet in need of reinforcements{/}. {orange}Permission to approach and make my report to the Emperor{/}."

The face on the screen {red}snarls{/}. "Granted. Maintain course and heading. I'll get a work crew in place and wake the Emperor."

27th July
05:38 GMT

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

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

It also makes it fairly easy to assault out of.

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

They don't start worrying {yellow}until the guns come up{/}.

"{orange}For the Admiral{/}!"

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

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

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

Good, good.

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

"We're on."

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

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

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

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

You. Will. Not.

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

{orange}Warning: teleporters active.{/}

{yellow}But I'm jamming{/}-!?

{orange}"Base to base teleportation-"{/}

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

{orange}"-unaffected."{/}

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

"Agh!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

27th July
05:44 GMT

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

"Captain Gralg, what news?"

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

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

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

"What's the Emperor saying?"

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

"So he's effectively on our side."

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

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

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

{orange}Compliance.{/}

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

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

Koriand'r looks at me expectantly. "{orange}What is our next target{/}?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What would you like to do with them?"

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

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

"Even so-."

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

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

"Does it cost you anything?"

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

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

"{orange}Orders, master{/}?"

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

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

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

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

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

27th July
05:58 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

{orange}Unable to identify.{/}

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

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

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

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

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

And then the cold guns open fire.

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

And the effect on the infantry…

Mister Snart has really been soft-pedalling people.

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

It doesn't help by much.

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

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

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

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

"No, those were designed on Earth."

"{orange}Fascinating{/}." She almost.. purrs it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"{orange}My pleasure{/}."

27th July
06:01 GMT

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

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

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

Fzp.

-ect.

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

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

"Be not."

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

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

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

{orange}Crumbler round was destroyed without making contact.{/}

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

Accelerate.

{orange}Compliance.{/}

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

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

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

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

{orange}Mental pathway damage limit reached. Acceleration discontinued.{/}

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

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

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

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

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

"That {orange}sword{/}, what is it?"

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

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

Now, what will I be flying into?

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

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

Okay, next-

Fzp fzp fzp.

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

Next.

27th July
06:09 GMT

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

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

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

"What do you want me to ask him?"

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

Komand'r {orange}holds out her right hand{/}.

"-overwhelm-."

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

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

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

{orange}"Nothing. We were his only loyal defence."{/}

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

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

"{/}Not bothered, are you?"

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

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

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

Compliance.{/}

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

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

{orange}Brand complete.{/}

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

{orange}"Grad, mistress."{/}

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

{orange}"Yes, mistress."

Brand complete.{/}

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

"{orange}Master, the ships have begun firing on each other{/}. {orange}Your orders{/}?"

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

"{orange}As you command, so shall it be{/}."

"Why did you let her do that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fists pound the air. "{orange}Rahgh{/}!"

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

"{orange}Rahgh{/}!"

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

27th July
06:16 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Naturally."

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

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

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

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

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

"You seem remarkably calm about it."

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

"You knew that the First died?"

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

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

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

"I needed Lanterns, they wanted power rings."

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

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

"You worked here long?"

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

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

The…

Heck…

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

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

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

"Adam Blake."

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

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

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

"Are your conventional reactors still in working order?"

"Yeah, but-."

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

"Ahhh… Just.. shut everything down?"

"Yes."

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

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

"You.. sure about that..?"

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

"Because I don't think-."

"{red}Brand{/}."

27th July
06:22 GMT

"Mister Blake?"

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

"Mister Blake?"

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

"Mister Blake? Are you with us?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"{/}We need their knowledge, Komand'r. Don't do anything rash.{orange}"

"I do know how to assimilate."{/}

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

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

Oh, just get on with it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

{orange}**{/}[Oh shit, {yellow}opening fire with everything{/}!

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

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

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

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

{orange}**{/}["Commodore Amalak, Mister Jarko, may I make a suggestion?"

Jarko waves his left arm languidly. "By all means."]{orange}**{/}

There were perfectly good reasons why-.

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

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

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

With an {green}effort{/} I force my mind to jump tracks.

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

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

**{/}Mister Blake, I'm trying to free you!{orange}**

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

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

He puts his arms around my back. "{violet}Just don't ever stop trying{/}."]{orange}**{/}

"Urff."

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

**How long?**

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

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

**Then this is {red}forty years{/} overdue.**

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

27th July
06:25 GMT

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

"Komand'r, Koriand'r, incoming Captain Comet!{orange}"

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

{orange}"He's here."{/}

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

**{red}How does it feel{/}!?**

White/gold light {red}envelopes{/} the Citadelian Emperor.

{yellow}"Nonopleasedon'tnono-!"{/}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**Need to…**

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

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

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

"You are the same species-!"

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

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

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

I hear a body collapse. "{orange}All clear{/}."

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

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

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

"{orange}Nicely done, master{/}! {orange}Moving to obey{/}!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**Okay.**

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

"Pull the trigger."

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

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

Gone.

Good.

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

27th July
10:07 GMT

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

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

"What were you expecting?"

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

"Sorry to disappoint."

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

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

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

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

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

My ring blinks.

Answer.

Koriand'r's face appears. {orange}"Everyone is prepared to depart."{/}

I nod. "Good. Are you ready?"

She nods. {orange}"Yes."

"{/}Good. Komand'r?"

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

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

"Orange Lantern Two Eight One Four ready."

"{orange}Assailant ready, master{/}."

{orange}"Koriand'r ready."

"Komand'r, read-ready."

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

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

{orange}"Warp ending in three, two, one."{/}

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

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

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

"You-? Ah… Please.. stand by."

"Standing by."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

{orange}Compliance.{/}

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

{orange}King Myand'r is flying towards the old spaceport.{/}

Good-oh. Transition.

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

"Majesty."

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

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

"Oh? Who?"

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

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

28th July
13:02 GMT

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Reasonable idea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I… {violet}Would have to give up{/}-?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I will. Thank-"

"Karras!"

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

"By all means."

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

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

Also, there's the fact that they lost…

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

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

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

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

"And you want my help?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then I will agree to aid you."

"Thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what will you do about that?"

"{orange}Destroy them{/}."

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

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

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