Chapter 10

U.S. Air Force Space Command Headquarters, Colorado, USA

U.S. Air Force Lieutenant Grace Jackson sat at her computer station which monitored input from various satellites and space telescopes. The information she was monitoring could also be seen by NASA. One of her monitors showed debris in orbit around Earth, or "space junk" as it was sometimes called. Keeping an eye on this junk was important for international space operations. Flying a shuttle into just a single piece of debris could be hazardous and deadly, just ask Sandra Bullock and George Clooney. For that reason it needed to be tracked; and on the occasion the vector of the debris may show a possible collision with a satellite, the satellite could be remotely steered to clear that hazardous path. That was her current task. It wasn't an immediate threat, the debris wouldn't impact for another hour or two; but a slight adjustment to the satellite's orbit now would keep it clear by a wide margin with no great concern.

Though satellites orbiting Earth mostly pointed down toward the planet and served various functions such as monitoring weather, or global positioning systems, or communications; this particular satellite whose course she was adjusting pointed out. It could keep tabs on deep space probes, and communicate with satellites and exploratory missions still in the solar system; such as those orbiting Mars, Saturn, Pluto, and Venus. Lieutenant Jackson verbalized her task as she performed it which served a dual purpose of keeping everyone else in her immediate vicinity aware of the movement; and also as a way for her colleagues to double check her work to ensure mistakes were kept to a minimum, and in the best case—completely non-existent. "Raising altitude by ten degrees. Adjusting axis by three degrees. Stabilizing position." She double checked her own work before confirming out loud, "Task completed."

To her left Air Force Staff Sergeant Rick Delrio blinked and leaned his head closer to his monitor, opened his mouth and closed it a couple times, blinked, and swallowed…hard. "Lieutenant, you need to see this."

Delrio's monitor showed the feed from the satellite Lieutenant Jackson had just repositioned. Her response was the same as his, including the swallow. "Colonel! Sir, I have…we need…I don't have a checklist for this!"

D.E.O. Headquarters, National City

Supergirl was talking to J'onn, "We have an international alien invasion kidnapping ring; and all the stings are perfectly coordinated with maximum effect, and that includes ships and oil rigs isolated in the middle of the ocean. There's no way every country on that list had the immediate resources to carry out that kind of operation with little to no notice. What help did Batman mean? What telepathic phone call did you make, and who did you call?"

"I wouldn't exactly compare my telepathy to a phone call."

"You know what I mean."

"Look, all I can say is it was highly classified and some of the people involved prefer to keep a low profile."

"Besides Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Batgirl?"

"Yes, besides them."

"And who is this Oracle that Nightwing kept mentioning and that contacted you and Superman here when I was at the hospital? Who is she? Is it a she? Winn thinks it might be a robot."

"Oracle is another friend who has helped me in the past, and who works closely with Batman and the others."

They were interrupted by a chiming alarm and a call from Winn, "Uh guys, you need to see this. I think we might be in a little bit of trouble."

Supergirl looked at the monitor, "What is it? What are those?"

J'onn took one glance at the monitor and all the dots that seemed to fill it. "The invasion is starting."

Langley Air Force Base, Virginia, U.S.A.

Lieutenant Colonel Hal Jordan sat at his desk. He scratched an itch around his graying temples, a contrast to the rest of his brown hair. He was getting old. Ok, so 38 might not be too old; but he felt older. Today he was going over logistics requests, performance evaluation reports, and other administrative necessary evils that came with being the commander of a squadron of the Air Force's newest F-22 Raptor fighter jets. He looked up at a knock on his open door. He waved in Major Thomas Green, his second in command.

"The sun is bright, the sky is cloudless, and your desk is what beckons you?" Green asked with a smile.

Hal put the logistics request he was currently viewing back on his desk and reclined his chair back slightly, "Tom, I don't know if you know this or not; but for some reason when you ignore your inbox, it gets backlogged."

"Uh, huh, and you do know the cure for that, right?"

"If you're going to tell me you are completely finished with all the paperwork you've been assigned, I will gladly share a load of mine."

"That wouldn't be nice. After Colonel Schmidt even tied a ribbon around it for you, because she cares so much and thought you'd appreciate the gesture. I think you'd hurt her feeling giving away her gifts like that."

Hal held up the blue bow his Group commander had actually stuck on the folders of paperwork when she personally delivered them to his office and dropped on his desk, "She hates me."

Tom slapped his knee and laughed almost to the point of tears, "Are you going to put that in the next command survey?"

"I just might."

Speaking of the devil, Colonel Kristan Schmidt suddenly appeared at his office door with a look of what Hal would describe as calm panic on her face. She said one word. "Scramble."

Hal and Tom were instantly on their feet, all paperwork forgotten. Their immediate concern now was running as fast as they could to their squadron locker room and switch from their Air Force dress blues, to their operational flight suits. The hallway became crowded as it filled with individuals of every rank running to their proper stations. An alarm claxon was loudly sounding accompanied by a loudspeaker voice, "This is not a drill. Scramble. Scramble. This is not a drill."

Another officer shouted above the noise, "Everyone to your aircraft. You'll be briefed on comms." No time wasted with a briefing room, slides, and any other formality. As quick as flight suits could be donned and pilot harnesses placed over them, a dash was made for the standby vehicles that would drive everyone to their jets. Hal was among the first. He climbed the ladder to his cockpit and did a quick once over, trusting his maintenance crew to keep his jet in ready working order. Senior Airman Randy James climbed the ladder after Hal, and with practiced precision helped him buckle into his crash harness and put on his helmet. With a nod and thumbs up from Hal, Randy jumped to the ground and quickly moved the ladder out of the way. Hal switched on his comms and listened with impatience to the briefing.

"Say again," Hal heard the voice giving the briefing, "Hostile aircraft are on approach. They do not match anything we have on record. Attempts at communication have failed to bring a response. Intercept and determine intent. Say again…" Hal heard the looped message but took a quick glance out his cockpit to check on the status of getting airborne. He saw a small munitions tractor pull away, and he glanced forward. Another Airman was standing in front of his F-22, but out of the way, as he held up his hands to show ribbons of various colors hanging from his fingers and fluttering in the wind. Hal gave a thumbs up to signal he understood his Raptor was now armed and dangerous. His canopy lowered and he started to taxi. He passed by the row of maintenance crew offering him a salute, which he returned.

He contacted the air traffic control tower, "Tower, this is Raptor nine four zero one requesting clearance for Runway zero eight two six."

"94 Oh One you are clear."

"94 Oh One in position, ready for takeoff."

"94 Oh One, you are a go for launch. Go get 'em Highball." The Tower relayed utilizing Hal's fighter pilot call sign.

Hal smiled beneath his oxygen mask, and hit the accelerator. This was definitely better than a day in the office, present circumstances for this flight excluded of course. The g-force and thrust of his Raptor's sudden speed pushed him back into his seat. Within a matter of seconds he was clear of the ground, flying over houses, and setting an intercept altitude and course. Another F-22 flew slightly behind and to his left. Tom had been on Hal's heels and taken off right after him. Soon, Hal's whole squadron was in the air and ready to meet all comers. It was time to put all their training to good use. An arsenal of fighter jets launched from their various ground bases around the country. At sea, Navy Aircraft Carriers added their own mix to the fight. Countries around the world were taking to the air to meet this new threat. If it could fly, it was in the sky.

Daily Planet Building, Metropolis

The newsroom was louder than normal as phones rang and voices yelled at various people with various orders. TVs showed footage of aircraft taking off in droves from military bases. The only current information offered by the government was to remain indoors. J'onn's voice sounded inside Clark's head. "It's here. They're here. The invasion."

"I'm on it." Clark walked with a quick stride toward the storage room and opened the door.

"Oh, hi, Mr. Kent. Man this buzz is crazy, right?"

"Uh, hi, Tom. Yeah, crazy."

Tom pointed to his supply cart, "Extra toner for the printers, and paper, pens, cups, filters, and coffee for the drink station; people have me running all over the place."

Clark pretended to look around at the shelves, "Uh, well, I guess it's not in here. I'll check another closet."

He quickly walked toward the stairs for Exit Plan B. Seeing no one close, he jumped down the center space between flights of steps. He landed on the ground floor, ran through the lobby, and out into the busy sidewalks of Metropolis. He turned down an abandoned alley, opened the front of his shirt to reveal his "S," and picked up his pace from hurried pedestrian to a blur of red and blue. Faster than a speeding bullet, Superman was in the sky.

Eastern Seaboard of the United States

The fleet of ships moved into position in orbit around Earth. Their launch bay doors opened releasing fighter and landing craft. Earth would soon be under their control. The first of their attack craft reached lower atmosphere and began their approach. They were met by a wave of fighter jets.

Hal tried to raise the approaching craft over several different frequencies, "Unidentified aircraft you are in United States air space. State your intentions." No response. "Unidentified ai.." he was cut off and began evasive maneuvers as the alien craft opened fire. Their intent had been made clear, and Hal's squadron responded in kind.

Quick chatter came over the comms.

"Watch your six!"

"I got your wing."

"Almost had him!"

"What are these things!?"

Hal tried to keep his breathing as calm as someone could flying at high speeds, against the force of gravity, and with as much evasion as he could muster. The dog fight had taken him back over land and he was finally able to get the drop on one of the invaders and lock a missile on his exhaust. A fireball marked the first victory of the day, but there was no time for celebration. One alien invader was down, only thousands more to go. An alarm inside his cockpit started to sound. A missile had locked on to him. He ejected just in time. His jet burst into flames and crashed into the countryside below. His parachute opened, beginning his slow descent to the ground. Fortunately, the enemy had no interest in him once his ability to fight was gone. Jets and alien craft continued to maneuver around each other. Hal wasn't the only one hanging below a parachute, but the aliens had marks against them too.

Hal landed safely and unbuckled himself from canopy that had saved his life. He looked up and waved down a passing car. "I need a lift."

The driver took one look at his military uniform and the parachute left on the ground behind him, "Hop in."

United States Western Seaboard

Supergirl was flying from one location to another; punching alien ships causing them to crash and burn, using heat vision to melt them in the sky, and rescuing pilots who had ejected from burning aircraft. She zoomed down to prevent debris from landing on pedestrians who were watching the skies above with shock at the spectacle, and cheering on the men and woman who were in the heat of battle. Supergirl failed to notice a larger alien craft land. Its doors opened and armored vehicles and alien soldiers came out. "J'onn, they have boots on the ground."

"Copy that. I have some at my location as well. Keep fighting, Kara."

"Wasn't planning on stopping."

Gotham City

Batman landed a punch on the nearest alien, and directed a kick at another. Nightwing took his nightsticks to wherever on their bodies he could land a blow. Robin and Batgirl were dodging blasts from alien weapons and throwing batarangs to disarm the invaders. A motorcycle sped up to their location and the rider leveled a crossbow at another alien and released the bolt. Her purple cape was blowing behind her as she hopped off and removed her helmet revealing a purple mask with its sides rising up forming two distinct points on either side of her head.

"Starting the party without me?"

Batman rallied them around him with their momentary battle a first victory. "Huntress, take Nightwing and cover Gotham East. Robin, you and Batgirl take the financial district. I'll maintain the Northern sector." Nightwing hopped on the back of Huntress's motorcycle and they sped off to their designated sector. Robin and Batgirl commandeered a parked vehicle and hotwired it to provide their own transportation. Batman spoke again, "Oracle, update."

"It's a planet wide invasion. Major cities across the world have alien armies in them. Every air force in the world is in the sky, and every aircraft carrier has empty decks. Supergirl and Superman are both contributing what they can, but we are all getting overloaded. In other news, it appears your usual consortium of bad guys is actually being somewhat helpful for a change. Two Face, Penguin, Black Mask; all of them have organized their gangs to fight. There are reports of Croc and Bane adding their muscle to the mix, too."

"I'll keep it in mind when this over. Maybe I won't hit them as hard as usual."

"I contacted Selina. She should be en route to your location."

Batman turned at the sound of a cry of pain. An alien who had recovered consciousness had been attempting to shoot him in the back. That plan was abruptly and painfully changed when a woman dressed in black had broken his arm. She lifted the tinted goggles from her eyes and placed them on her head, which gave the appearance of cat ears. "Catwoman is here. We'll maintain this sector."

The Pentagon, Virginia, United States

General Sam Lane was making the best of the organized chaos in the Pentagon War Room. A bunker deep under the headquarters building for the United States military was bristling with activity. TV screens had national and international news showing the panic and destruction being caused by the invaders, computer monitors displayed positions of troop movements, and every phone was pressed to someone's face to relay orders and information as they became available. Currently, General Lane was in the middle of a video conference with the President of the United States. "Madame President, we have mobilized every military unit at our disposal. It's time to pull out all the stops."

The dark haired woman answered from her own bunker beneath the White House, "General, I will not launch nuclear weapons on populated areas. That would be more defeat than any Pyrrhic Victory. And what would it accomplish? The aliens are still landing. We don't know how many more are coming; and I will not relegate the innocent people of this country to the role of victims. Many of them are fighting back right alongside military and police."

"If aliens insist on attacking Earth, then we can at least use a machine built for this specific purpose—to fight aliens!"

The President paused for only a moment to think. What other course of action was there? She nodded, "You have authorization." The conversation had ended.

General Lane turned to an assistant, "Activate Project Morrow."

The Virginia Countryside, United States

The car was at a dead halt. The road was jammed with vehicles; all people were attempting to make it to wherever they thought a safe haven from the invaders would be. Hal Jordan knew they weren't going anywhere. He turned to the driver who had picked him up after he had ejected from his jet. "Thanks for getting me this far. It'd be better if we both just went on foot from here. Get somewhere safe."

"You got it man. You getting back in the sky to fight those things?"

"Something like that."

"Good luck."

Hal exited the vehicle still in his flight suit and took off at a jogging pace. Sights and sounds of the air battle continued overhead. Sweat poured over his body from the physical exertion of the day. Explosions rocked the neighborhood as air craft were shot out of the sky and crashed to the ground. Houses were on fire. Emergency crews were doing their best, but they were quickly running out of supplies and energy to keep going. Still, no one was even thinking of surrender. It took him almost an hour from the time his parachute landed him on the ground to reach his house. Thankfully, the fires hadn't spread this far yet. He rushed into his bedroom and pushed against a wall. A slight click sounded, and the wall slid back revealing a hidden panel. On a shelf sat a ring and a lantern. He thought peace had been established, they all had. They were all wrong. He picked up the ring and suddenly heard a voice in his head.

"Hal Jordan, you are needed."

"No kidding. You're a little late with the message."

Hal ended the conversation and placed the ring on his finger. These aliens messed with the wrong planet, and had shot down the wrong pilot. He pressed the ring into the lantern.

"In brightest day, in blackest night; no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power…" Hal's eyes ignited into a glowing emerald shine. His body was instantly imbued with energy and power, the fatigue from the day was gone. In its place was the power of Hal's will. His flight suit disappeared and was replaced with a new uniform. White gloves were pulled over his hands and up his arms to almost his elbows. Green boots were on his feet, and a green mask covered his nose and eyes. The material covering his legs and arms was black, his torso was green, and in the middle of his chest was the symbol of the galactic peacekeepers he represented. "…Green Lantern's Light!"