The Gold Corps: Shattered: Chapter 2: Experiments

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Experiments

Berton felt highly pleased with himself. His theta-bomb had worked perfectly, rendering both the Gold Lantern and the Martian girl unconscious. They were even now in one of his laboratories, being held in stasis, still unconscious.

The boy was proving to be a marvel of genetic engineering. In his own way, he was a kind of "Ultimate" all by himself. Bertron shook his head again in pity. The boy's parents had demonstrated so much potential…and they'd passed it on to their son.

He healed amazingly fast, and no disease organism seemed capable of establishing a toehold in his system. His genetic code appeared to be completely self-correcting: while he was not yet fully mature, once he was, he should not age appreciably, at least not for a very long time.

They'd even, somehow, managed to gift him with a self-healing central nervous system. On most humanoids throughout the galaxy, damage to the brain or spine was permanent. Not so with the youth; his nerve tissue healed with almost supernatural ease and speed.

The girl now….

Bertron was, of course, familiar with the Martian species, both white and green. This one had been masquerading and identifying as a green Martian for many decades now, so much so that the "masquerade" had become the reality. Like a reflex, like bending a tree limb and holding it in that position for a prolonged length of time, this was her "new" norm.

But he wondered. He knew the Martian physique was amazingly pliable, a feat for which they were famed throughout the stars. He wondered just how malleable she was, how much damage she could take before discorporation. Perhaps it was time to find out. But first….

There was no reason to waste a resource. Using a laser scalpel, he severed the unconscious Gold Lantern's finger from his hand, as the ring stubbornly refused to come off. It really didn't matter much; even as he watched, the finger began to regrow (and he wondered: would the severed finger he was holding regrow an entirely new person, given time? But it didn't seem to be happening…) Although he didn't really feel the need for it, still, it couldn't be denied that he was frankly curious as to how it worked. So he slipped the finger with its ring still on it into a plastic bag, put it into a pocket and sealed it shut.

Strange. Carrying it felt…odd, somehow. It made him feel odd, and in a way he couldn't quite identify.

Now. As to the "Ultimate." His scanners moved over the comatose body. Hm. No sign of physical injury, of course; that would have corrected itself anyway, almost immediately. So the damage must be mental. His scanners reconfigured themselves at his mental command and began searching for signs of mental damage….

…..

"They're a little overdue, sir," Nightwing was telling J'onn J'onzz via link to the Watchtower, "I was wondering if you'd heard anything."

"No, I have not. But I understand your concern. My niece is usually very prompt when it comes to time schedules. Even when," and here, Dick could swear he saw just the barest hint of a smile lurking around the corners of the Martian Manhunter's mouth, "even when a…young man is involved." The smile faded. "But there is a much graver concern: they went to get the body of the comatose Doomsday. It might not have been comatose by the time they got there."

That had been Nightwing's private gnawing fear all along. Ever since they dropped out of contact…"Do you think we should investigate?"

"I will send Hal and John to do so. There is probably nothing to worry about, but, as the Earth saying goes, 'better safe than sorry.'"

"My thoughts exactly, sir."

…..

The Source Wall: Hal and John Stewart, accompanied by an impatient Guy Gardner, searched for any sign of the two members of the Team. "Don't see why I hadda come all the way out here. We ain't chaperones. And those yellow lanterns won't catch themselves, you know."

"You're here because the Guardians told you to accompany us out here. Three heads are better than two." Even if one of them is yours. "And if the Sinestro Corps members act up, they'll have the League to deal with. So quit griping and scan."

He glowered at Hal. "The day I need you to tell me how to do this job is the day I hang it up." But he began scanning nearby space for any signs of the Team members.

"Hal?" John Stewart broke in, speaking low so Gardner couldn't hear, "How do we know we're even in the right area? I mean, this thing is huge…" He nodded at the vast expanse of the Source Wall behind them.

"Yeah, but this is the area where the Team found Ragnar trying to repair the damages in the Wall. It stands to reason that he must've stashed the Doomsday body somewhere nearby. Check out any sizable asteroids."

….

Oa: Ganthet was communicating telepathically with Llianna. {{Have you run those figures?}}

{{I have. The results have been stable for three hundred seventy eight times now.}}

Ganthet sighed. {{So there is no possibility of a mistake?}}

{{None. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say, that the probability of error is so slight as to render it insignificant.}}

That's what I was afraid of, thought Ganthet.

….

Bertron was smiling.

He'd caught himself smiling quite a lot lately. Well, he had reason to smile, to be happy. He'd retrieved the Ultimate, captured the son, and apparently favorite test subject, of his two top geneticists (and who was proving to be a treasure-trove of biological data; the genetic equivalent of being visited by Santa Claus), and he had an unexpected bonus: the Martian girl. Martians were renowned throughout the cosmos for their biological plasticity, not to mention their mental powers. She was probably the mate to the son of his two geneticists, but he could find no evidence of any sort of reproduction as having taken place. Perhaps it had happened sufficiently long ago that the offspring were mature enough to be on their own? But he didn't know how old that would have to be. There just wasn't any data. But he could now correct that. Of course he could.

The thought made him giggle, slightly. Yes. More data. Always more data.

….

"….have to tell you, J'onn, it's not good news. We found M'gann's bioship…but no M'gann or Ragnar. It was just floating off some large asteroid. And, no, we didn't find the Doomsday body. Worse, we're picking up some residual energies. Looks like somebody exploded a theta bomb in the vicinity."

J'onn J'onzz frowned. "A theta bomb? You're sure?" That would effectively knock out any intelligent being in the area so affected. "And there's no clues in her ship?"

"None. We've gone over it with a fine-tooth comb, and can't find anything. The last log posting had them about to go EVA. Then, nothing. Evidently they just got here, got out of the ship, and boom. Basically."

"Hm. So we have to assume the worst. Alert the Guardians, and I'll alert the League. And," he added, as an afterthought, "The Team."

"They're missing?" Nightwing's voice was full of alarm. "And the Doomsday body…gone, too?"

"Apparently. We are, of course instigating a full alert, and the Green Lantern Corps has been notified, so they're already on the case. But we have to assume the worst: that they are either captured and somehow neutralized, or dead. We will keep you apprised of any new events, of course."

Both Nightwing and Wonder Girl's face showed only horror.

…..

Miss Martian gradually came to awareness. What had happened? She and Ragnar had been about to retrieve the Doomsday body….

Ragnar! Where was he?

Consciousness swam into her head. She couldn't move, could barely think, even. But she saw her surroundings: a gleaming silvery laboratory of some sort. Standing over her was a small, odd looking creature with gray wrinkled skin and large eyes. There was something about those eyes that made Megan decidedly nervous, maybe a certain sheen to them…

"Ah, good. You are awake. I have only one question to ask you. Do you have any offspring?"

"W-what?"

"I said, 'do you have any offspring?' Children. Descendents. You are of age. So. Do you?"

That was an awfully personal question coming from some thing she'd just met. "N-no, I don't. Who-who are you, and, and where am I?" But the creature had turned back to his instruments, and she felt consciousness fading…

….

Mt. Justice: Nightwing had summoned the Team, Doomsday included, for an emergency meeting to share what they'd found out. "And, as of right now, that's all we know. So everybody be ready. I know this cosmic stuff is mostly out of our league, but in the past, we've found ourselves in the midst of it anyway." He addressed the empty air over the meeting table. "I don't suppose you'd have anything to add to this, would you, Sarah?" Referring to the cosmic entity that seemed connected, somehow, with Ragnar's golden ring.

Nothing. "Well, it was worth a shot. Anyway, everybody stay loose. I hope Ragnar and Megan will be in need of rescue, and soon, but….everybody on standby. Got it?" Murmurs of assent went around the table.

Doomsday signaled for attention. "Nightwing? Is there, uh, any chance you could persuade the Green Lanterns to take me out there where they were last seen, is there?"

"I could ask. But why?"

"I seem to have some kinda connection with Ragnar. Like I can sense him from a distance. Plus, if somebody absconded with that other body, chances are it's no longer comatose. You may need me to fight it."

"I'll certainly pose it to the League. Who the Guardians send is, of course, up to them, but we can choose our own rescue team." And, he thought, this would be perfect for Doomsday, who'd been chafing here at Mt. Justice for so long. Here, or practically any world, he'd be altogether too well known, but out there…and he was probably right about both having a connection to Ragnar and being needed to fight a revived Doomsday 1.

But who could've gotten the drop on both Megan and Ragnar? And why?

…..

Bertron went over his figures for about the thousandth time. For some reason, he distrusted them, and that distrust seemed to be making him afraid, somehow. A coldly logical being, he'd never really felt true fear before, but he was beginning to understand it better, and on a more personal level, than he liked.

What did he have to be afraid of, anyway? His base was well-shielded, his captives secured, and still unconscious. Even the Ultimate was locked down so tightly he couldn't even wiggle, let alone get the leverage he'd need to break free from his restraints.

There were endless experiments he could perform on the male, of course. He'd already ascertained that no biological agent had any effect on the boy, and most overtly physical damage was only temporary. But it was interesting: it almost seemed like the youth's healing factor was evolving, developing in some way that was totally contradictory to the laws of biology as he knew them. Had his former partners discovered some new paradigms?

He'd thought, at first, that the anomalous responses he'd been getting stemmed from the golden ring the blue-skinned boy had worn, but that could not be. That same ring, still on the severed finger, currently resided in Bertron's sealed pocket. Absently, he patted it, filled with a vague unease; he still didn't know exactly what it did or how. He'd tried, a few times, to create light-constructs with it, with varying degrees of success, but still, something seemed to be lacking. There was some principle at work he wasn't seeing.

By contrast, the Martian girl was almost a joy to work with, and he ran countless tests on her, trying to see how that marvelous Martian plasticity seemed to work. Evidently, the Martian genome had something in common with highly advanced "memory molecules," except these were controlled by conscious thought. It was truly remarkable that evolution had produced not just a living being, but an intelligent living being based upon that principle.

But he was reaching the limit as to what he could do with her in her current insensible state. The thought occurred to him to awaken her, and place her in a chamber with the Ultimate, just to see how long she'd last. But then he shook his head; no, that would be too crude, far too crude. He did not dare waste this rare opportunity; he might never again get a Martian to experiment upon. And besides, it wasn't as if he didn't know the outcome of such already. Even if it might be fun to watch.

Fun?

Bertron stopped walking down the hallway, and brought himself up short. Fun? Since when did he think about such things, anyway? Notions of fun were for lesser evolved organisms; he was a scientist. There was no place in science for fun. So where had that thought come from?

Well, it ultimately didn't matter. What mattered was, he had to think up some sort of useful experiment to perform upon the Martian female. Not just a mere test to destruction; he already had a good idea what her limits were in that regard. But a truly useful experiment, one that would yield more valuable information.

Experiment…

Experimental…

Mental…

Perhaps the purely physical was not the way to go. The thought made him laugh, even as he wondered why he was laughing, and at what.

To be continued…