Young Justice / Green Lantern Corps: The Gold Corps: Shattered, Chapter 6: Plans Within Plans

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

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The Gold Corps: Plans Within Plans

Sinestro's team was flying high in the stratosphere when Lyssa Drak gasped. "Master! Do—do you feel that?"

Sinestro stiffened. Arkillo looked on uncomprehendingly. "Yes, yes, Lyssa, I do." There was a great outpouring of fear, lovely empowering fear coming from a single point below, in the same city they had just been in. With the skill of long practice, Sinestro zeroed in on the emanations…and they were abruptly cut off.

A cessation that abrupt usually meant those feeling the fear…no longer lived. And while Sinestro did not regard it as any of his business to interfere in the affairs of Earth—not yet, anyway—the event he'd just sensed had all the earmarks of a deliberate attempt at a signal. "There. Down there. Arkillo, you remain here, in reserve. Drak, you accompany me."

Downward they plummeted, heading for the top of a tall building in the middle of the city. Upon the roof was an LED display of the Sinestro Corps insignia.

Yes, definitely a deliberate signal. Someone had managed to get his attention in such a way as to leave no doubt: they wanted a face-to-face.

Standing upon the roof of the building, wearing a standard businessman's suit, was a tall, stout figure calmly watching the two yellow lanterns approaching. He appeared to be about middle age for a human, and sported a neatly trimmed white beard. "Ah. Thaal Sinestro of Korugar. I see you got my message. Good."

"You've the advantage of me, then," said Sinestro, in a neutral tone of voice. An expert at reading people, he could tell this human was not one to be trifled with. Automatically, he scanned for ambush, but his ring detected nothing of the sort in place.

"This isn't an ambush," said the man with a smile. "I've something much more interesting in mind. For us both."

"Who are you?" At his silent command, through the ring, Lyssa Drak also hung back a few yards, scanning the strange human with her own unique senses.

"Call me Mr. Smith. It'll do, for our negotiations."

"Negotiations? I take it you've some reason to think we've something to negotiate."

The human smiled. "How does the end of the world sound?"

….

Batgirl was returning from her nightly patrol, having already changed, and was heading for the showers, when she noticed the light in the gym was on. Curious, she headed that way, expecting to catch Dick doing some late-night training.

But it wasn't Nightwing. It was Ragnar.

Barbara Gordon's eyes widened as she took in one other fact: apparently, he'd disengaged the safety protocols of the simulation equipment.

He stood, stance relaxed, knees flexed, as several drones zeroed in on him. She expected him to sweep them out of the way with his ring, but instead, he leaped, turned, and twisted into a series of flying kicks, shattering one drone, driving another into the ground, and grabbing an arm of the last, ripped it off, and, using it like a quarterstaff, speared the drone through the center, a "killing" blow.

She hastily hit the "off" switch before the computer could generate more of the drones. "Ragnar! What are you doing, working with no safety protocols?! You know that's dangerous! What were you thinking?"

He lit upon his feet, as agile as a cat. "I…couldn't sleep."

"So you thought you'd come put your life in danger? C'mon, Ragnar. You know there's more to it than that."

"Yes, there is. You're absolutely right." She waited, until it became apparent he wasn't going to expand on that.

"Look, Ragnar. I know you're going through a special kind of hell right now. But, but endangering yourself isn't the way to deal with it!" She moved closer, becoming aware that he'd grown some since she'd first seen him. Clad, as he was, in a standard gi, she couldn't really tell about his body, but he was definitely taller. And he seemed bigger, broader, somehow.

Still he said nothing. "Look," she said, sitting down beside him. She was conscious of needing a shower herself. Superhero costumes got hot, even when one was swinging through mid-air. But this couldn't wait. "If, if you wanna talk about it, you know any of us would listen. Is this about M'gann?"

"Partly." She waited. "But not totally." He half-turned and looked at her. "I, I have been having…dreams lately. Dreams I don't understand. But…I find myself reluctant to go back to sleep, when they come."

She rubbed his back, nodding. "Nightmares. I know. That's normal, Ragnar, what with all you've been through-*"

"That's just it. They're not…not nightmares, not really." Again, he fell silent.

"What are they about?"

"I can never remember everything, but…but one thing seems predominant: destruction. Everything is, is a desolate wasteland, everything destroyed. Cities, countries, whole planets. And, and…" and here again, he paused, as though uncertain how much to say, "…and by my hand. Whatever has happened, whatever cataclysm has taken place…I am responsible."

Again she nodded. Of course. It was all fitting the pattern. "Ragnar, that's inner anger talking. Believe me, it's not that unusual. You've been through a lot. It would be more astounding if you didn't have bad dreams."

He leaned forward, putting his face in his hands, hiding his features. "That's just it, Barbara. They are not bad dreams. Not bad dreams at all." Now he looked up, looked her full in the face, through eyes widening at unwelcome realization. "When I have those dreams…I enjoy them."

…..

Sinestro stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The end of the world? A trifle melodramatic, wouldn't you think? Besides, I fail to see how such would truly benefit anyone."

"There are many ways for the world to end. Or, perhaps I should say, the world as we know it."

Now Sinestro felt he was beginning to understand. This human wished to destroy the world as it was, and remake it with himself in a position of authority. Inwardly, he sighed. He'd heard this story often enough. "And, I take it, you wish my help in this matter?"

"I do. Working together, we can bring about an end to this current sorry world, and usher in a much better one."

"But this is not my world, nor the world of any of my corps members. So what reason are you going to give for my involvement?"

"My proposal is simple. I help you end the world. You, and your corps, get to rule the world that arises from its ashes."

Sinestro raised an eyebrow. "Not you?"

"No, not me. Good heavens, no. I've no desire to rule any world, least of all this one. I couldn't do it, anyway. It would take something like your corps to accomplish that. And that's what I mean. I mean to essentially give you control of this planet."

"For a price."

"For a price."

"And that price is?"

The man smiled a most unpleasant smile. "I want one of those rings."

…..

Barbara had showered, and put on fresh clothes. Dawn would be breaking soon; she'd made Ragnar promise to wait for her in the main rec area. Obviously, they had some things to talk about.

Hope I'm up for this, she thought. Psychology wasn't her specialty, and this could easily fall under the category of xenopsychology, but…

He was sitting at the table behind the couch, staring morosely at a cup of hot chocolate. He'd never gotten a taste for coffee; alien taste buds. But hot cocoa was okay. He'd brought her one.

She sat down beside him, conscious of the fact that they didn't have very long. Nightwing would be up soon, and the others would begin stirring, but, aside from a private room, there really wasn't any other place to conduct this conversation. "Okay, Ragnar, let's take it from the top. How long have you had…dreams like that?"

"Actually, for quite some time now. Back when I first joined you, such dreams troubled me. I…" He stopped, for a moment, then rallied and went on. "I told M'gann about them. She probed my mind, a little, but could find no reason for them. We assumed it had something to do with my connection with this universe's Doomsday monster, and the psychic trap my parents had placed in me, to stop it.

"But I never heard of the Doomsday monster until it came here, attacked this system. If I had some sort of psychic connection to it, it escaped detection.

"Then, 'our' Doomsday surmised that it might be some connection to Vastator, which we still know little about. Again, there's no evidence. But both were destroyers of worlds…and in both cases, my dreams indicated me as being such a destroyer, as well."

"I see." She sipped the hot cocoa. "And…these dreams give you pleasure?"

"Yes." He looked down at his cup. "I find myself ashamed to be feeling that. But that is what I feel, nonetheless."

"Well, part of that probably is anger, Ragnar. I mean, you've been dealt about one of the harshest deals life has to offer: the girl you love has been taken from you. It's normal to have some inner rage about that. But I hear you saying this has been going on since before you lost Megan."

"That's true."

"You enjoyed those dreams, too?"

"I did." He hitched himself forward, a somewhat nervous reaction, she thought. "Even back on my homeworld, where I grew up, I can think of no reason why I should wish to destroy everything. Destroy the predators who menaced me, yes. But not everything! That makes no logical sense!"

"Ragnar…think for a minute. Calm down and just think back. Do you have any memory, any at all, of any intelligent contact before you got that ring? Was there anything? Anything at all?"

He shook his head. "The closest thing would have been my ship's computer. But while it had a voice recognition and response mode, it…it wasn't like what I see on the TV shows and movies. It could only answer questions."

"What did it tell you about your parents?"

"Practically nothing. I asked once, where I'd come from, and it led me to where their bodies were stored. Of course, I asked it more, and it, well, it explained, in its own limited way, about death, the cessation of vital function." Pause. "It never actually said they died in the crash, but I suppose I always assumed that."

"We know they implanted…things, I guess, for lack of a better term, within you. You heal amazingly fast, you're stronger than average…didn't you go to the dentist not long after you first joined up? What was it he said?"

A rueful smile. "He asked me who my previous dentist was. I told him I'd never been to one, and I could tell he did not believe me. He didn't even do anything, said there was no need. No cavities…people actually get cavities?...no plaque buildup, nothing."

Barbara Gordon sipped at her cocoa. Yep, that was what the report said. For someone who'd gone fifteen standard years not even knowing about dental hygiene…but then, whoever his parents were, had evidently gifted him with a fantastically well-equipped body.

But all that was surface material. The mind remained the key factor, and Batgirl had hunch Ragnar's mind, too, was the beneficiary of someone's superscience.

What improvements might someone who'd mastered the humanoid genome give to one's offspring? Knowing they'd not be around, it made logical sense to give him every conceivable advantage they could. But how could a desire to destroy fit in with that?

Of course, there was the "Doomsday model," as some had come to calling it, referring to the beast Bertron had created. The survival reflex was tied into an innate desire to remove all threats to it, wipe out all life. No life, no threats. Of course, it wasn't quite that simple, but…

And she wondered. "Their" Doomsday had evidently been the product of one whose genius rivaled, and quite possibly surpassed, even Bertron's. Bertran, whoever she'd been, had managed to bring the genetic experiment they all called Doomsday to completion, granting her "son" not only an unsurpassed body, but also a keen mind as well. I wish we'd known her. "Somewhere, someway, there's got to be a connection. I don't know how, but my intuition tells me it has something to do with your ring, and why it changed like it did. From what I know about power rings, they don't just change like that. It just doesn't happen. The rings are tied to certain aspects of the emotional spectrum…say, has anyone had any ideas as to what emotion your ring is connected to?"

"None. Even I don't know. I just know it works, and I know how to work it. But…it's like a reflex. Something I do instinctively."

"The Guardians were no help?"

"They were as mystified as everyone else. But…"

"Yes?"

He rubbed his eyes. Even though he had greater than human stamina, it was limited, and he was tired. Tired, and frustrated. "I received the distinct impression they knew more than they were telling. But it was only a hunch."

Standard Guardian MO, thought Barbara. She was about to ask him about the conversations he'd had with the mysterious blue beings when Wally zipped into the kitchen, still bleary-eyed from sleep. He was moving slowly, for him: she could actually see him flash from one spot to another. "Hey, guys. Anybody made breakfast yet?"

She turned to Ragnar. "Well, we'll talk some more later. Maybe you should get some rest? You've been up all night."

"Unnecessary." He pinched the bridge of his nose, hard, and she saw the weariness vanish from his face. Evidently, he had reserves of energy she'd not suspected.

Wally joined them, a bowl of cereal already halfway eaten by the time he sat down. "Say, Ray. I know this is a sensitive thing an' all, but can't you contact M'gann telepathically? I mean, that wouldn't do any harm, would it?"

Ragnar shook his head. "J'onn J'onnz told me her telepathy is affected, too. Right now, she has to be in line of sight with someone to use her telepathy, and, well. You know."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." The rest of the cereal disappeared like magic, and he poured another bowl. "Uh, you, uhm, okay?"

Ragnar looked at him as though Wally had just sprouted an extra eye. "No." Then he got up and left.

…..

High overhead, Sinestro looked over the planet Earth from behind ring-generated stealth fields.

Lyssa Drak and Arkillo flanked him, side by side. The leader of the Sinestro Corps was carefully considering the offer of the man calling himself Smith. Smith had explained enough of his plan to interest Sinestro, and assured him it would result in the Sinestro Corps essentially being able to safely—and legally, according to the very guidelines the Guardians themselves had laid down—annex the world of Earth. And there wouldn't be a thing anybody could do about it.

Thaal Sinestro wasn't interested in destruction for destruction's sake. Destruction was not his goal. Construction, the construction of a world, indeed, a universe of order, order brought about by fear, but orderly and functional. It made so much more sense than the Guardians' plans, which seemed to revolve around letting things go until lives were threatened on a planetary scale, and war was imminent. Then they'd step in, with their Green Lanterns, and restore order, but only after matters had gone nearly too far. Or even if they had already gone too far.

To Thaal Sinestro, that was highly immoral and irresponsible behavior.

Humanity, in all its myriad forms, needed guidance. Guidance from above. The only alternative was a mindless flailing about, as each person sought to achieve his, her, or its own ends, and much needless destruction.

So Sinestro sought to use fear to create a world of order, where lives didn't have to be lost. People would still be afraid—it was human nature to be afraid—but they wouldn't have to fear each other.

His studies of Earth had revealed the presence of the monster Doomsday, the one from an alternate timeline. What a Corps member he'd make! But even more importantly, his existence spoke of possibilities, possibilities a sharp, well-informed, strategically oriented mind could make use of.

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"You seem lost in deliberation."

Sinestro smiled a smile that made Lyssa Drak nervous, though she was careful not to show it, either in her voice or expression. "I am never lost, my archivist. But I am pondering this proposed arrangement.

"You notice, this Mr. Smith stated that he wants a yellow ring for his involvement in this matter, in return for which he proposes to essentially hand over governorship of this planet. It would then belong to us, to the Corps." The tentative but binding agreement they'd had with the Guardians was that any world that willingly and knowingly accepted Sinestro's rulership should be allowed to do so, but only after its people knew what they were getting into. The people could not be allowed to be deceived by the Sinestro Corps; they had to know the Corps' aims and methods. If they still wished inclusion in the Sinestro Corps' sphere of influence, then that decision would go unchallenged.

But nobody said anything about the way in which those same people might be…persuaded to accept Sinestro's "help."

"My Lord," Arkillo had come up beside him on the other side, "Surely you cannot be thinking about accepting this man, this human, into the Corps! I can tell he is untrustworthy! He would betray us in a heartbeat!"

"Of course he would. And yet, Arkillo, take note: not once did he actually ask to join the Corps. No, he stated his price was, to receive a power ring. And that…might could be arranged.

"That is, providing it suits my purposes."

…..

"You wanted to see me, Ragnar?" Artemis entered the laboratory where Ragnar and Doomsday were working. They'd been spending a great deal of time in the lab, lately.

"Yes, Artemis, I did. You remember, a while back, I asked to borrow one of your arrows?"

"Yeah, you said you wanted to try something, something about some way of replenishing them in the field?"

"Yes. I believe Doomsday and I might be on the track to doing so. Here." He led her over to a table, set in front of a small target range. There were two arrows on the table. "Here. See if you can tell which arrow is the one you loaned me."

Artemis picked them up. They both felt the same, had the same balance, heft, and the braille markings around the nock, that told her which arrow was which, were identical. "Hm. I can't tell any difference. Here, let me try 'em out." Swiftly, she nocked the first arrow, and sent it downrange towards the target, spearing the bull's-eye perfectly. Then the second arrow; it, too, went right through the center of the target. "Well, I'd say if your aim was to develop a way to copy my arrows, you've succeeded."

"We've done more than that," said Doomsday. "You know how you have to watch your arrow supply in an extended fight, to make sure you don't run out? Here." He hefted a quiver, just like the one she normally carried, with several copies of her arrows in them. "Put this on, and shoot at the target, just like you normally do."

Puzzled, she donned the quiver, settling it in across her back. She drew one arrow, sent it downrange, then another, then another…

After about the fifth arrow, it occurred to her, there hadn't been that many arrows in the quiver when she'd picked it up. Curious, she looked around.

There were still five arrows in the quiver. "Okay, how'd you guys do that?"

"It's a combination of nanotechnology and matter/energy conversion. Basically, when the quiver senses you draw an arrow, it immediately produces an exact copy of that arrow, generated from pure energy."

She took the quiver off and looked at it, admiringly. "Wow. That's…really something, guys." Previously, she'd had to make her arrows by hand, and each one had to be handcrafted, to make sure they were perfectly balanced. Now Ragnar and Doomsday had automated the process. "Good deal. But…to make a whole arrow, from energy, would require a huge amount of energy, wouldn't it? I mean, it would be the equivalent of converting one of these arrows into energy, and that would produce enough energy to blow up half the state. So this is the reverse of that process. Where's the energy coming from? What's the power source?"

Ragnar and Doomsday looked at each other. "It, uh, comes from nature," Ragnar said, evasively.

"Comes from nature. Ragnar, I hope you two didn't shoehorn a whole nuclear reactor into this quiver." She held the magic quiver at arms' length, as though it might suddenly sprout atomic-powered iron bear-trap jaws and close on her.

"Oh, no, no, nothing like that. That wouldn't produce enough energy, anyway."

"Right," said Doomsday, "That'd be irresponsible."

"Soooo…..what'd you two do?" I think I'm in the company of a couple of genuine mad scientists here. As if to confirm her suspicions, she caught a glimpse of Mad Science Weekly, peeking out from underneath the papers on a nearby table.

Ragnar took the quiver. "In its current configuration, it utilizes a quantum black hole."

"A WHAT!"

"A very small one. Only massing about as much as, say, a baseball. But held and stabilized within its own subatomic event horizon by a series of overlapping force-fields. The good thing about such singularities is, you can shove mass into them, then extract that mass as needed. Something like the ultimate in battery packs."

"A black hole?! Are you crazy?! Don't answer that! I can't go around with a black hole strapped on my back!"

"It's perfectly safe, Artemis. The force-fields serve to not only stabilize the quantum singularity, but also to extract the mass-energy when needed. Of course, like everything, there is a limit, but right now, the singularity holds enough mass to construct several hundred arrows. Running out of arrows won't be a problem for you anymore."

She looked at them, softening. They were both so sincere…Ragnar, looking for a way to take his mind off of Megan, and Doomsday, trying to fit in, here on this strange and occasionally hostile new world. "Well, I…don't know. I guess…it's worth a try. Not really comfortable with this whole black hole thing, but I take it you've tested it out extensively…"

"Oh, yes! And, and it checked out in every test we ran. Also, we can use this same system to produce copy devices for the others, such as Nightwing's throwing weapons, as well."

"Okay, then. But," and here she smiled a crooked smile at them, "if I should feel myself about to get sucked into this mini-black hole, I'm dragging you two in with me."

…..

It had been two nights since Sinestro's encounter with the man calling himself Smith. The three yellow lanterns landed, as per their original agreement, upon the roof of the building where they'd first met him. He was waiting for them. "Well? Do we have a deal?"

"We do. Stretch forth your hand." Smith extended his right hand, and Sinestro gestured.

A field of solid yellow light materialized from the universal emotional substrate, wrapping its way around Smith's finger. In less than a second, Smith was wearing a yellow power ring.

"Alright," said Sinestro, crossing his arms. "I've fulfilled my part of our bargain. Now…."

"Yes, now…and you'll be surprised how easy it is to destroy the world. But here's my plan…."

To be continued…