Young Justice / Green Lantern Corps: The Gold Corps: Shattered, Chapter 4: Rescue

I don't own Young Justice or the Green Lantern Corps.

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At the very edge of the star system, the Green Lanterns and Doomsday halted. "Okay, here's where I go in," said Doomsday, "I'm gonna head for that planet, there. The one with all the junk coming out of it." The planet in question was tremendous, over twice the size of Jupiter, and had a roiling, turbulent atmosphere through which lightning strobed frequently. The others watched, nervously, as the Monster of Steel angled in at a respectable fraction of the speed of light, aiming for the planet's north pole, where the magnetic field came to a point, allowing accumulated radiation to nearly touch the planet's surface before being re-routed back into space, following the lines of force. The radiation winds wrapped themselves around his body almost like a physical embrace, and he could feel the tingling sensation that always accompanied his body's adaptive evolution. Anything else would have been killed outright, fried by the hard radiation here in the upper atmosphere of the gas giant, but Doomsday was made of sterner stuff than that.

His vision began to clear, and he could see through the roiling clouds. Still, the planet was huge, and their quarry tiny, by comparison. Unless something sent up the equivalent of a signal flare, he doubted he'd spot it without some effort. He began a search pattern, spiraling outward from the pole, heading towards the equator….

One pass, two passes, three…."I'm finding a whole lotta nuthin,' guys," he reported back via comm. link. "Keep a sharp sensor out for any sort of signals to or from any particular spot. I'm hoping these guys have something ta do with the outside universe. If so, they gotta have some sort of communication array."

"We've been keeping watch," reported Hal, "but without a whole lot of success. Are you sure you have the right planet?"

"No, I'm not. Not absolutely sure. But it feels right, somehow. And this is the absolute nastiest spot in the whole solar system, short of putting it inside the sun itself, which, now that I think of it, might be a possibility. If we don't turn anything up here…"

Arisia fidgeted, listening to the communication. She was acutely aware, as were they all, that Ragnar and Megan had been silent for too long. If they'd even had some indication that either of them had tried to contact help…the fact that they had had no such indication only added to her incipient ulcers. I'm too young for gray hair. "Maybe we should go in to help look."

Hal shook his head. "We're trying to keep our full strength here a secret, Arisia. It's inevitable that they'll spot Doomsday, but we need to keep our real numbers as much a secret as possible until it's too late—for them. I-*"

"I just spotted something. Not sure I believe it, but…" Doomsday's voice came over the link.

"What's unbelievable about it?"

"It looks like home, to me."

Ragnar came to full consciousness, his fear for Megan driving him on.

Groggily, he got up off the cot he had been lying on, feeling his strength return. Somehow he knew Megan was here, somewhere, and he would not rest until he found her.

He could sense his ring. It didn't seem to be all that far away; only a few dozen meters and up one level. He went up to the door of the room he'd awakened in.

Hm. No switch to open it. Okay, then.

He drew back his fists, and began pounding on the door, all the while feeling a curious tingling sensation running throughout his whole body. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, rather, it seemed to energize him, and he struck the door harder. Under the impact of his blows, the door began to buckle outward, first deforming slightly under the repeated blows, then beginning to crumble. It must not have been as strong as it looked. He could hear an alarm sounding; well, let them. He'd go up against anything to rescue his love.

Outside: the Green Lanterns had joined Doomsday outside the strange spheroid structure he'd found. "You say you recognize this place, Doomsday?"

The monster shook his head. "Not this particular place, but…I was created and grown in a laboratory by a scientist named Bertran. She had a similar set-up, but that was in my universe…"

"Wait. She? The scientist who created you was female?"

"Yeah. She taught me everything she knew, well, you know, not everything, but a lot. I guess you could say she was the closest thing I had to a mother." He hesitated. Then, "Then one day I come home, and the place is destroyed. Space pirates, I've always assumed. No trace of her in the wreckage." Pause. "And this place looks just like it. In fact…if I'm not totally mistaken," he moved to one side of the seemingly featureless sphere, hunting for something, "the way in is…right here." He depressed a series of almost-invisible buttons, and a panel opened up, leading into the complex. "If memory serves, this way should lead into the base…"

Meanwhile, Bertron was still trying to reconcile his son's apparently random acts of violence with any meaningful communication when he heard the automatic alarms go off. He shook his head in irritation. Now what could be so important that it would interrupt his communication with his darling boy? So he ignored them.

Ragnar made his way down the corridors, homing in unerringly on the feel of his power ring. Several automated defense/offense drones hummed around the corner, targeting him, bracketing him with both projectile and beam weaponry.

He dodged the projectiles, his healing factor coping almost instantly. The beams were impossible to dodge, but he was able to take cover behind some machinery, then re-emerged to zig-zag down the corridor, narrowing in on the silent signal from his ring. Oddly enough, even the hottest beams didn't seem to have much effect on him; even wounds that should have been self-cauterizing healed rapidly. But he couldn't detect Megan anywhere; first, he'd need his ring.

He found a bar of metal, and used that to bat away the most troublesome of the drones, all the while not slacking his pace. He would get his ring back; he would rescue Megan.

But his metal bar made for a poor substitute when he came to one corridor that seemed practically filled with drones from top to bottom.

…

Meanwhile, other drones had engaged the Green Lanterns and Doomsday in the corridors of the complex. The giant shrugged off the bullets and the beams alike, charging down the hallway, swatting the drones left and right. The others followed close behind, blasting the remaining drones whilst shielding themselves. Both Hal and John thought it peculiar that they encountered no stronger resistance.

Then a cloud of drones hove into view, like a swarm of killer bees, rapidly converging on the heroes…

Ragnar fought, using his metal bar like a quarterstaff. Strangely, even though it was solid metal, steel, seemingly, it proved remarkably easy to swing in the confines of the corridor.

He dodged, feinted, spun, and swung, using moves Nightwing had taught him, each swing catching anywhere from one to three drones, and ever moving forward, towards where he sensed his ring…

The Green Lanterns and Doomsday had reached a relatively clear spot near a terminal of odd design. "Here, let me try something." Doomsday's thick fingers danced nimbly over the console. "I don't believe it. It's the same code." He couldn't keep the wonder out of his voice. Well. That's convenient. Then he gathered himself, and directed the others' attention to the screen. "See this area? It looks like it's cordoned off and specially reinforced. I'll wager that's where the other Doomsday is being held. I'll head there, but these areas here look to be holding chambers. Notice how they're centrally located around the main control area. I'd bet that's where our friends are being help. Or at least, it's a good place to start…."

"Doomsday? Could this be your mother's base?"

The monster shook his head. "First off, my mom wouldn't have kidnapped Ragnar and Miss Martian. Second, I'm seeing 'Bertron' repeatedly when I scroll down the screen. This looks to be this universe's version of my Bertran, who doesn't appear to be such a nice person. But some things remain similar: the layout of the place, for example. But anyway. You notice there's life-support in these areas—that indicates there's life to support. Everything else appears to be automated. You guys go get our people, I'll go," and here, he cracked his knuckles, a savage smile on his face, "have a little talk with this other me."

Bertron looked up from his calculations, an unmistakable frown on his alien features. His alarms were going off, and right now when he needed to concentrate the most. With an almost savage gesture, he silenced the alarms, and returned to his deliberations.

Oh! Yes! Of course! The horsey's tail went right there! How obvious!

Ragnar swatted left and right with his steel bar, which by now was showing clear signs of damage. The bullets tore into him, but he healed so rapidly they were more annoyance than threat. In the back of his mind, he remembered once when, so long ago, the Joker had stabbed him with a simple knife and almost killed him. Now he was shrugging off far greater damage; evidently, he did share a bit of Doomsday's adaptive ability.

The beams burned hot, hotter than ever, and several times, he was forced to his knees…but always, the thought of his beloved Megan in danger drove him on. What the Earthlings called Hell itself wasn't going to keep him from her. He leaped to his feet and charged the remaining drones, an inarticulate cry of rage emerging from his throat….

Doomsday stalked down the corridor that, if the plans he'd seen were correct, led to the chamber where the other Doomsday was being kept. He could feel the deck shudder with the force of the monster's unceasing blows against the side of his prison, and, not for the first time, asked himself just how he was going to go about doing this.

Doomsday 1 had all of his abilities combined with an all-consuming rage that allowed for no quarter. And, like he himself, this version could adapt to any new threat. What did he have that could counter that?

He was still trying to come up with a decent plan when a spiked fist smashed through the wall just to his right, almost hitting him in the face.

Bertron was lying on his stomach in his primary control room, kicking his feet up, and contemplating his handiwork. He had finished his drawing, a nice pastoral scene. Now if he just had some colors, he could really make it look good.

The door to his control room was suddenly smashed inward, and he looked up in surprise. It was the gold one, the blue-skinned son of his workers. His clothes looked all torn and seemed burned, in some places. Maybe he'd come to bring him some colors? That would be a nice thing to do.

He held up his picture and pointed to it, very proud of his artwork. But the blue-skinned man snarled at him, and Bertron shrank back in fear. Vaguely, he remembered this one was supposed to be a prisoner, and therefore probably not a very nice person, but the sheer rage on his face set Bertron to trembling violently. Whatever was he going to do? He was no fighter.

Ragnar stood up, there in the higher-vaulted room, his expression determined. "I believe you have something that belongs to me." He extended his hand—the one with the new finger—and gestured.

Bertron felt the object in his pocket react to the will of the intruder. He clutched at the pocket, dropping his prized picture. "No! No! You can't take it! It's mine, it's mine! I need it!" But to no avail. The ring heeded the call of its master, becoming an energy waveform and passing out of Berton's pocket like a ghost, homing in on Ragnar's outstretched finger. The glowing energy form wrapped itself around his finger…and became solid again. Ragnar brought it up to his face. "To those in fear, I come to aid.

"Let those who cause fear be afraid." An ascending, singing tone announced the ring's charging sequence.

"Never more shall one fear fright…

"So swear I, by this golden light!" He could feel the ring's full charge, as it rested on his finger.

"No, no, you don't understand, I need it, give it back, give it back…" Bertron collapsed in tears.

Ragnar grasped him roughly. "Where is she? Where is the Martian girl who was with me?"

"…need it, give it back…Martian girl…mar shan gurl…" Bertron giggled. There was no indication of any degree of understanding in his words. "Mar Shan Gurl, Mar Shan Gurl, Mar Gurl Shan…"

"Damn you!" shouted Ragnar, dropping the insane creature. He turned his attention to the banks of monitors around him. Leaving the lunatic babbling on the floor, he strode over to the nearest ones. In them, he could see Hal, John, Kilowog and Arisia slowly but surely pushing their way deeper into the base. How to contact them?

Oh, of course. He brought up his ring. "Hal? The is Ragnar. I managed to escape and I've got my ring back. Right now I'm in what looks like the primary control room.

"Ragnar? Is that really you? Where are you?"

"Yes, it's me. I just now adapted, I guess, to whatever force was keeping me under. There's an alien creature here…I can't believe he's the one responsible for all this, however. I think it's somebody's child."

"A child?"

"Either that or a hopeless lunatic. I can't get any sense out of him. Here; I'm sending you a picture. Look familiar?"

"That's Bertron, he created Doomsday. The evil one, I mean. You say he's out of it?"

"You see. He's not even coherent. I don't know what's happened to him, but it doesn't matter. I can't find Megan; she's not showing up on these monitors." Even as he spoke, a vast shudder went through the entire complex, as though a bomb had gone off somewhere in the depths of it. "What was that?"

"'Our' Doomsday was gonna go find the other one. He may've done so. Can you call off these drones from where you are?"

"I'll try." He examined the control panel, even as he privately chafed at the time it was costing him, time he could have been using to find Megan… "This looks to be a control feature." He flipped the switches.

Only some of the drones ceased their hostile activities. The rest continued to harass the heroes, but it did lighten the load. "Awright!" gloated Kilowog, as he smashed several drones aside. "Now we're talkin'!"

We were talking before, thought a puzzled Ragnar. Oh, well, it didn't matter. "Ring. Locate Miss Martian."

Meanwhile, Doomsday 2 had closed with his counterpart. So this was how he could've turned out? It was a sobering thought.

Back and forth the two seemingly invincible beings fought, smashing each other through walls, floors, ceilings. They'd already crushed several vital systems, and ruptured the integrity of the outer hull; Doomsday could hear the planet's atmosphere shrieking into the lower pressured base's corridors. Have to wrap this up.

Doomsday 1 had all the physical power of Doomsday 2, but the latter had undergone extensive training on the use of his great strength. Bertran, Metron, Highfather, and a great many others had taught him ways to utilize his power.

So now he fought his counterpart using martial arts moves adapted especially for his strength. Blow after blow fell upon Doomsday 1, and it was forced back, into a defensive position. And, as had been the case ever since Doomsday 1 began its infamous career, it began to adapt to this new situation.

But the new situation required a certain modicum of intelligence, and, as the monster evolved, it began to perceive the attacks, and the pattern of them. It anticipated the blows, the kicks, the body slams…and remembered.

It remembered something it had never really remembered before, not the same way: it remembered how it had been hurt, physically hurt, the pain from the other's attack becoming part of its awareness. It didn't like to hurt, didn't like pain, and so began to fall back, just a little.

The Doomsday monster was driven by rage, but rage is only one of the many emotions that dwell within the hearts of sapient beings. There's also courage, and of that, Doomsday 2 had plenty.

So Doomsday 1 fell back, sensing that this one could hurt it, and not wanting to get hurt like before, and Doomsday 2 pressed his attack, slamming the other's head between his fists, raining blow after blow down upon certain key points of the monster's body. Back and back Doomsday 1 fell, trying to adapt to the skill of the other, and failing.

Doomsday 2 looked down at the unconscious body of his antagonist. That had been…just a little too close. Now to find the others.

Ragnar had joined the Green Lanterns, and their combined efforts managed to sweep the corridors free of the drones. "In here," he told them, leading them into the main control room. Bertron still lay on the floor, in a fetal position, sucking his thumb, and mumbling. "You're telling me this is the one responsible for our problems, here?"

"Yeah." John Stewart knelt over the alien's curled up body. "What happened to him, anyway?"

"I don't know. All I know is I burst in on him, and basically found him like this. He had my ring; I took it back. And now, I can't actually sense Megan, but, according to this readout, she's several floors down…" He turned around, obviously intending to go to her.

"Ragnar, look. We need you to stay here with Bertron, make sure he's not faking or something. Yes," Hal saw the look on Ragnar's face, "I know you want to go get Megan, and we'll do that. But right now, our Doomsday is battling his 'twin' from this universe. Kilowog, you go see what you can do there. Arisia, stay here with Ragnar, okay?" He privately suspected that, of all of them, Arisia had a better chance of actually reigning in Ragnar's desperate desire to rescue Megan personally. "John, you come with me." He clapped Ragnar on the back. "Look, don't worry, okay? The cavalry's arrived. Uh, that means the good guys are here. We'll go get Megan, Kilowog and Doomsday will see to Bertron's monster, and we'll all meet up at that airlock we came in by, okay?"

Ragnar was clearly uncomfortable with just remaining here. "C'mon, Ragnar. Keep a girl company, okay?" Arisia locked her arm in his. Was it just her imagination, or did he look…bigger now than she remembered him? "Besides, from the looks of this place, it seems a lot like your old wrecked ship. We need to get these files. You probably know more about how this place works than anyone else." They could feel the shuddering of the massive base as the two Doomsdays battled it out. "The guys'll get Megan, I promise."

"I—I don't know, I, I want to-*"

"I know, believe me, I know. But you're needed here." Both Hal and John had already left, zipping down the corridor towards the area the computers had indicated Miss Martian was being held.

What none of the GLs had wanted to even hint at, was their greatest fear: what had the madman done to Megan while she was his captive? Was she even alive, still? J'onn J'onnz had received no telepathic communication from her…what had Bertron done to her? They might need to prepare Ragnar for the worst. And the worst need not be simple death.

But the room where she was apparently being held was reassuringly normal, given that it was still a prison area in an alien space base. Twin beams of green energy smashed in the door, and Hal and John crowded into the room.

Miss Martian lay on her back, on a smallish cot, under the influence of what appeared to be a standard stasis-ray. Holding his breath, Hal scanned her with his ring, then breathed easier when it reported no damage. As far as the ring could determine, she was simply asleep.

"Hal, look." John drew his attention to the complex machines in the room, circular arrangements reminiscent of Earthly positron emission tomography devices, but of a kind and nature neither of the two Lanterns were familiar with. "What are those for, I wonder?"

"Maybe Arisia can find out, from the files." He blasted the stasis generator, and Miss Martian opened her eyelids, blinking a few times. "Oh, not again!" It was getting a little old, this being rescued thing. Not that she was really complaining all that much…but she was beginning to feel like a permanent damsel in distress.

"Easy, Megan. It's alright. We're here, and everything's okay." Hal soothed her. She sat up, rubbing the side of her head. "What do you remember?"

She grimaced. "Going out to the Source Wall with Ragnar. Wait, where's Ragnar?" Her eyes grew wide as she remembered.

"Easy, easy, he's here, he's on his way. Apparently, Bertron waylaid the both of you, took you captive. Do you remember anything about that?"

"No-o, only, only that he—I guess it was him—woke me up once to ask me if I had any," and here she blushed, "children. Then he put me right back under. It was Bertron, you say?"

"Yeah, but everything's under control now." Kilowog had just signaled him that Doomsday 1 had been defeated. Hal sent a silent signal to Arisia, who was doing her damndest to distract a very worried Ragnar, that it was safe to let him come on down. "Come on, we'll meet down in the main airlock. From the way this place is sounding, I don't think it'll be too long before it totally gives way." And it was true; all throughout the vast base they could feel shudderings, and hear the screeching of rending metal, the occasional sharp explosion of overloading circuits.

The airlock. "He had the strength, but he didn't have the moves," said Doomsday, towing the unconscious body of his counterpart behind him. He and Kilowog had wrapped several hypersteel cables around the monster's body. They might not hold it for all that long, but they would hold long enough.

"But where's Ragnar?" Megan was asking worriedly. "He wasn't hurt, was he?" At that moment, Ragnar and Arisia entered from the door behind her, with the cuffed form of Bertron between them. The alien scientist was busy making blippity-blip sounds with his lips, apparently fascinated by the sound.

"Megan!" Ragnar called out to her, rushing to her, his concern and his relief evident on his blue face. Yep, thought Arisia, as she watched him run towards Miss Martian, he was definitely bigger now than before. What could be causing that?

Megan turned towards the sound of his voice, relief in her own face, turning to face him as he rushed up to her. For the briefest of moments, she gazed up at him, eyes wide…

…and then she screamed in horror.

To be continued…