Young Justice / Green Lantern Crossover

The Gold Corps: Chapter 27: Brick Walls and Firewalls

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Sorry I haven't posted in a while, but other projects got in the way. Anyway, for those of you following, here goes. Please read and review!

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Don't own, you know.

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Chapter 27: Brick Walls and Firewalls.

"Prince S'Torr? It's good of you to meet with us on such short notice." The unremarkable looking human in the three-piece business suit offered his hand, which S'torr declined, with as much courtesy as he could, under the circumstances. S'torr really didn't care for humans, even though this was not a feeling widely held by most Martians. S'torr didn't consider himself to be prejudiced, as such; that was a condition reserved for less highly evolved beings. He simply felt that Martians should refrain from fraternizing with inferior species. It was unseemly. And it sent all sorts of wrong messages to the lower classes, the menials.

"Yes, well, your message was most…urgent. Now that we are here, what can I, er, do for you?" The trio were meeting in S'torr's own private business chambers.

His guests—though he tended to think of the term in quotes—consisted of the nondescript, dark haired human in the business suit, and a human woman, in a black and red form-fitting business suit. She was blond, and had, by human standards, a superb face and figure. The legs that emerged from her knee-length business dress were exceptionally shapely and, like the woman herself, superlatively tanned and fit. Even though she was only human, she was worth a second glance. Both she and the man wore extremely dark shades, which S'torr found a tad overdone. They were indoors, and, in any case, the sunlight that fell on Mars, even out on the surface, was hardly anything to require protection from.

But they were only human, and, he supposed (with a carefully concealed expression of amusement), subject to Earthly fashions, one of which, he imagined, was that wearing dark shades made one look all the more mysterious. Well, let them go ahead and think that it had any effect on him.

"Yes," said the man. "Before we begin, I don't believe we've introduced ourselves. I am known as Cinder, and this is my associate, Ms. Ashe. We both work for the law firm of Cinder, Ashe, Burns, and Frye. Our employer," and he said this with a peculiar inflection that caught S'torr's ear, even against his will, "our employer has asked us to contact you on a matter of considerable importance to the Martians, and indeed, to a great deal more than just you." He opened his valise, produced some papers. "I believe you will find these self-explanatory." He handed the sheaf of papers to S'torr, who smiled inwardly at the backwards humans: no digital storage? Hmph. Well, what could you expect from such a backwards species….

But his inward smirk disappeared completely when he read the papers. "You cannot possibly be serious. This is a deed to, to the whole of Mars…to, to this…is this your 'employer'? This Inferno? This is outright nonsense! Mars belongs, and has always belonged, to the Martian people!"

"I assure you, Prince, it is quite legit. You will note the signature at the bottom. A brief investigation of your own history files will show it to be a tenth-to-the-eleventh power ancestor of yours, in fact. Hence, our meeting with you.

"Our employer, Mr. Inferno, has been quite content with the patterns of life on Mars. What you have done, to yourselves, of course, is of your own doing, and nothing of his. However, he wished to acquaint you with the fact that the planet you inhabit does in fact belong to him, and is a resource of his, to be managed in a more efficient manner. Even though he is not required to do so by the terms of this deed, he is actually offering his support, which can be considerable; he is quite capable of bringing in personnel and supplies to see to it that the planet is once more brought to full operating capacity.

"But the actual ownership of this world is not in question."

S'torr could barely contain his rage. This, this human had the nerve to actually suggest that his great-great-to some unguessable degree ancestor had sold the entire planet Mars? That couldn't get more absurd!

What kind of a fool did they take him for? This 'Inferno'…some human claiming to own his planet? It couldn't be more patently false; how could any human claim to have made such a compact so far in the past? Mars still had seas of water then!

"I don't know how you got past my secretaries, but, but….! Take this absurd piece of drivel and get out! I've no time for, what do you humans call it? 'April Fool's'?"

"I assure you, Prince, this is no joke. Our employer has noticed your efforts at rebuilding Martian society, and is quite generously offering his support. However, he does wish us to point out that, ultimately, ownership of this world is his; you are caretakers.

"And so far, you have done well. He admires efficiency. So, as a gesture of such admiration, he offers his own help. It would enable you to achieve a thriving space industry of your own, rather than having to make do with the few ships you currently have. Oh, yes. Our intelligence is quite thorough in this regards. Aside from a handful of ships, many of them pre-cataclysm, you could easily profit from a more active space industry, could you not?"

S'torr tore up the papers, the lying, thieving papers. "Get out! Get out of here, before I summon the guards!"

"Do I take it that you are refusing our employer's generous offer?"

S'torr ground his teeth together. "Yes, you may take it that way. Now, get out!"

The man turned to the woman. "Ms. Ashe?"

The one identified as "Ms. Ashe" spoke calmly, her face impassive. "I believe it safe to say that rational discourse is no longer possible."

In the outer chamber, on the way back to the spaceport, the one known as "Cinder" spoke to his comrade. "Well, I suppose that could have gone better."

"I doubt it," sighed the one known as "Ashe." "The Martians are a proud people. To suddenly learn they are only caretakers of what they have long considered their property… And, be it admitted, our contact was hardly suitable for truly civilized communication. At least not with," and here, she smiled, in a thoroughly unnerving way, "mere humans." There was a brief silence as the two walked onward. There was no ship waiting for them, but they hadn't arrived in one, and did not need one to depart, anyway, a fact that S'torr was completely unaware of. "So. Now what?"

Cinder straightened his shoulders, adjusting his collar. "Now…I imagine our employer will most probably foreclose."

…..

Dreamspace: Ragnar and Rose once again materialized within a starry void. And once again, weirdly enough, Rose found there was a breathable atmosphere around her. How could this be? It defied pretty much every law of physics they knew…but those laws only applied to the waking universe, the "real" universe, anyway. She hurriedly checked her pouch for the miniaturized "harpoon" of Bertran's design. It would only stay pocket-sized as long as Ragnar exerted his will upon it, so the last thing she needed was for him to get distracted and have the thing spring to full size, ripping out of her pocket, and knocking her higgledy-piggledy. She didn't want to give him that much entertainment.

But…truth? She really didn't believe he'd enjoy seeing her discomfort or embarrassment. So why did she keep telling herself things like that?

As before, they hung there, against the tapestry of the stars (or, at least, what everyone presumed to be stars) while Ragnar oriented them with his ring. The ring's long range sensors, they knew, were quite capable of reaching out many light-years. But what exactly was he looking for?

None of them had any idea what Miss Martian's dream self would look like. They'd presumed it would look a lot like her, but there were no guarantees. And if she did not, what did she look like? How would they know? How would they find her?

But they could only do their best. Even Bertran could only supply them with so much information. The whole "dream space" concept was still too relatively new for there to be any concrete data.

"I'm getting a reading…" he pointed, "about two parsecs in that direction."

"Think it's Megan?"

"This energy signature seems to bear a certain resemblance to those of her waking self. Of course, that's no guarantee."

Rose sighed. This was beginning to look more and more like a hopeless case. If it hadn't been for Ragnar, she'd have given up on the matter long ago. After all, they were being called upon to search a vast, possibly infinite space. And they didn't even know exactly what they were looking for. "Well, let's go, kid. See what there is to see." And he flew up alongside her, allowing her to hook a hand into his belt, and off they went.

Both of them completely unaware they were being watched the whole time.

…..

Mt. Justice: Cassie Sandsmark found Dick Grayson sitting on the couch in the main rec room, staring at a blank TV screen. His expression told her all she needed to know.

She came over and sat by him. "So. Any luck?" Not that she needed to ask.

"Only if you count bad luck. About Batman: nothing. Whoever engineered his disappearance—and I'm coming to believe that more and more—appears to have left no clue. And I do mean none.

"And by the way, that new Robin the Teen Titans have is an absolute asshole.

"About Brother Blood…I guess we may as well call him that, for now, at least. That restraining order has got us locked up so tightly, we can barely blink. I guess, from the judge's point of view, I can kinda see it: you attack someone, physically, I mean, bludgeon and blast your way into their home or property, well, then they certainly have grounds for legal action, at least. Blood's church could've actually brought charges, I guess, especially since we can't prove Blood was really up to something. From the outside, it looks like we really did just up and attack him.

"That they didn't bring charges just adds to their credibility.

"About our Silver Lantern…she's too new on the scene, and, apparently, not a problem anyway. I've already tracked her down: Stacy McAllister, works in the mall. Now how she got the ring, I haven't a clue. But she might be a good addition to the Team, providing she's not one of the extreme ring-wielders." Referring to the fact that some of the emotions the emotional lights were associated with tended to override the users' higher cognitive abilities.

"And Bertran called me. Seems she got a disturbing call from the Martian High Council. I reviewed the call, and, yeah, it does seem as though there's maybe some kinda hidden agenda there, an agenda we might not like. But it, too, is too new; can't pin anything down.

"Our dark warrior: nothing. He seems to come and go like a wraith. I remember those pictographs Wally and I found in that Nazi warehouse, and yeah, it could be him. I guess, from what he said, there's no reason why it wouldn't be. But that's about the extent of the information we can scrape up on him, and it isn't much. But, once again, he doesn't seem to be a problem. Though he could so very easily become one." He leaned back against the back of the couch. Cassie sat next to him, lost in her own calculations. "Cassie…I don't understand how anyone could so completely obliterate all traces of themselves. I mean, yeah, it's Batman, an' all, but still. The guy's only mortal. Unless he is a prisoner of Darkseid, in which case, all bets are off, I guess.

"And Blood…Cassie, our hands are tied. Right now, we're just waiting for him to make the next move. And I've a hunch it'll be a doozy." He closed his eyes, trying to banish the pain in his temples. He'd had a headache now for three days straight, and it was steadily getting worse. Probably caffeine, he told himself. Too Much Coffee Man, that's me.

"Dick…you've been at this too long. You need to take a break."

He shook his head without opening his eyes. "Can't, Cassie. I just know there's something I'm overlooking, something obvious. And we have to know something about something before the shit hits the fan.

"Which it will. Count on it.

"And that thing with the Martians is worrying me too, more so than it has any right to. I mean, they've never seemed to care much about Megan before; why this attitude change all of a sudden? Call me paranoid-*"

"You're paranoid."

"*-yes, thank you—but I can't shake the feeling, the hunch, that that could get…messy." He pinched the bridge of his nose, hard, trying to banish his headache. And Cassandra Sandsmark made a decision with some far-ranging consequences.

She got up, pulling him up with her. "Dick, I need you to come with me."

"Huh? What for? What is it?" Had she some clue or clues she'd managed to uncover?

"Down here." And she led him down the hallway towards her room. So thoroughly lost in thought was he that it didn't even register just where they were heading until she drew him into her room. "Uh, Cassie? What-*"

"C'mon, Dick. I've got something I need you to help me with." And she crossed her arms, pulling her T-shirt up and off her, unlatching her bra with one swift motion.

He stared at her breasts, it just now starting to penetrate. Funny; the sight of a woman's breasts had never just paralyzed him before now…. "Uh, Cassie? I, uh, really have to be getting to work…" Such perfect breasts…

"You most certainly do," she replied, skinning out of her jeans, and turning her attention to removing his costume. She kicked her panties off from her feet, and drew him into her embrace. "So get busy, Mr. Richard Grayson. I get cranky when I'm kept waiting."

To be continued…