The Gold Corps: Gold Justice

by Nitebreaker

What will the only Gold Lantern in the Universe do with his newfound liberty, and with his new friends? What will they do with him? Why did his ring change like that? And a new, or perhaps not-so-new, threat from beyond the stars...Sequel to "The Gold Corps: Genesis." Now complete.

3. Chapter 3: Beasts

Gold Justice, Chapter 3: Beasts

I don't own the Green Lantern Corps, Young Justice, nor the New Gods. Just so's we're square.

"Highfather, you mustn't be out here! It's too dangerous!" Orion, Highfather Izaya's adopted son, was pleading with his father, even as they both flew into the recently wrecked part of the floating city of New Genesis. "Let me do battle with this monster!"

Izaya suppressed a smile. He was proud of his adopted son, but being Highfather required much from him. It was his place to remain stern with his son, especially with this son, or at least, maintain the appearance of being so. "My people are in danger, Orion. Were you in my place, would you cower behind your children, send them into battle against such odds? Do you think so little of me?"

"Of course not, Highfather! But is this not the very thing you have trained me, and the others, for?" He paused a moment, guiding his flying harness alongside Izaya. "Do you think so little of us? You know that each of us would gladly lay down our lives, not just for New Genesis, but for you, personally. You are needed as leader, not warrior!"

"Do not presume to lecture me on my duties, duties I was performing long before you were born. I know that many of our finest warriors have fallen in battle with this creature, this Armageddon beast. I will not sacrifice more." They landed, and he turned to his son. "Besides, I've another task for you. Listen, now, and take heed; there may not be much time.

"I will go contend with this monster. I have delegated Lightray to evacuate the city, and Metron to his acquisition of knowledge regarding the beast, which he would do, anyway. But I need you to stand in reserve. And to lead, if need be."

"You mean…." Orion couldn't even form the thought, let alone the words. All of a sudden, his throat felt tight.

Izaya tapped the young god on the chest. "If I fall, you must lead the people away to safety. That is more important than any one battle. I, and I alone, have the wherewithal to face it, even for a moment. But I will see to the safety of my people, my children. In whatever way is needed.

"This is where you are needed most, Orion. Now, go. Obey the words of your father." Pause. "I will join you all as soon as I can."

"But-*"

"Go. Now!" Such was Izaya's tone that Orion immediately took to the air, even before the command had registered in his conscious mind. He turned back, once, to see Izaya, the only father he'd ever known or would acknowledge as a father, as family, turn from him, setting his face resolutely towards the sound of the monster's rampage.

The beast had found itself in this strange place, but its unthinking mind was incapable of speculation as to how it had arrived here. It really didn't care, anyway. All it knew was, there were living beings here, living beings it could slaughter, driven by the rage within its soul.

"Creature! Face me!" Izaya stood tall, taking in the thing before him. Huge, gray, with numerous boney spikes protruding from its shoulders, elbows, and knees, the monster was powerfully muscled, and moved far faster than its bulk would normally imply. Now it looked up, almost, thought Highfather, in surprise that someone should actually challenge it. Then a slow grin of complete savagery spread across the thing's hideous face. It turned towards Highfather, bunching its muscles to attack.

Izaya knew better than to give it anything even remotely like a fair chance. With one hand he blasted the monster a full kilometer back into the destroyed zone, and, with the same thought, readied another attack. The monster had to be stopped, his people safeguarded. But rumor had it that this thing had once nearly killed his ancient enemy, Darkseid himself. And Highfather had personally contended with Darkseid; he knew the kind of power it would take to do that.

The monster leapt out of the wreckage of the buildings it had already demolished, moving with a speed such as Highfather had never seen. But Izaya had not become the warrior he had by making ill-considered assessments; already he was in motion, and had readied another blast, this one driving the monster back into the ruins of his beloved city…but this time, the beast recovered quickly, so quickly it almost caught him. He backpedaled, using his power of flight, one ability the monster didn't seem to have, to attack it from above. It was driven into the foundation of the floating city, making the entire city ring like a gong. Highfather kept his distance, observing the creature with a practiced eye. He could learn much about the beast by its rapid recovery, but the monster had one gift that made the battle anything but even: its set of powers changed from one moment to the next. What it couldn't do one minute, the next minute, it could.

This complicated things.

Highfather knew better than to close with the beast. He was not here to go head-to-head with the monster, in a personal, driven-by-ego battle for supremacy, as Darkseid had. No, his job here was to first see if there was not some way to destroy the monster once and for all, or, failing that (a failure that, if all reports were true, seemed likely), stall it long enough for his people to escape. New Genesis could be restored; lives lost in battle could not.

But the monster seemed capable of learning some rudimentary things, for this time, it simply appeared in the air between him and the ground, almost as though it had teleported there, this time without announcing itself by its usual roar. But Izaya was ready, even for this; with a skill born of aeons, he dodged, and, with his indestructible scepter, struck the beast from behind, adding his own immense strength to the monster's own initial speed, and, not incidentally, deflecting the thing back into the ruins it had just emerged from. As always, he was careful to keep the creature away from any other part of his city, and planned his next move accordingly. This area, this wreckage of the city, was by now depopulated, and therefore a battleground infinitely to be preferred over one that was still occupied.

This time, the creature barely hit the ground before it turned, and, with blinding speed, leapt again, this time—to his horror—not towards Izaya, but in the direction of the non-evacuated parts of the city. What rudimentary intelligence it seemed to possess must be telling it that he would have no choice but to follow, and thus lose some tactical advantage.

Once more, he struck it from behind, again careful not to close with the beast. This time, it seemed to anticipate the maneuver, and turned in mid-air, almost catching him. But "almost" wasn't good enough with one who'd fought countless battles against numberless foes, and who fought with the skill and courage of Izaya the Inheritor.

Again the monster crashed into the ruins, and again it emerged with such speed as to have been merely a flicker to any human vision. But Izaya's vision was far superior to any human's, and he once again deflected the monster, dealing it such a blow as would have split a mountain in half.

Highfather considered. He could, using his mother box, open up a boom tube to swallow the horror whole, send it somewhere far, far away, even to another universe. But it was his place to safeguard those same universes; sending this creature of death there would run counter to everything he believed in.

But the creature was not stopping. All he'd managed to do thus far was to distract it, slow it down. And, with the devastation already around them, it was only a matter of time until the battle spilled over into some part of the city not uninhabited.

Sighing in resignation, he readied his scepter, charging it with the very energies gathered from the Source Itself. No matter how powerful or how adaptive this monster was, its power was as nothing compared to the power of the Source. "Know you this, creature. This is a singular honor I bestow upon you this day: the Life Equation itself. None can stand before its might. Not even you." And with that, he willed the scepter to unleash its smallest bolt, aiming at the monstrosity in front of him, that was even now charging him, once again, showing no signs of even being winded by the battle….

….

The three sitting in the café on Oa looked up. "What was that?" asked Arisia.

"Sounded like thunder. But that's impossible. This is Oa." Hal rose. "Maybe I'd better go check..."

"War in heaven," murmured Miss Martian. Her face wore the look of one distracted, her eyes wide and vacant, seeing nothing of this world. "Say what?" asked Arisia.

But the green skinned girl had fainted dead away.

…..

Mt. Justice: Nightwing was poring over the details of the kidnapping ring the team had busted. It hadn't been a pretty sight; according to these records, some of the girls (and a couple of the boys) had already been sold into some form of slavery. Probably sexual, he thought, with a grimace. He made a mental note to himself: once they caught up with those responsible, use just a little extra force than was absolutely necessary. One of the benefits of being a largely covert team was, less oversight.

But he couldn't make sense of some of the records they'd acquired. According to these files, the kidnappers had apparently been instructed—by who, it was unclear-to search for a specific genotype, had, in fact, been very selective in who they targeted. Usually kidnappers weren't that picky, especially those who kidnapped in groups. It was like they were looking for something. Something in particular.

Nor could he follow the money trail, either. Whoever was backing this ring was extremely careful to leave no trace of their existence save for the money itself, locked away in uninformative gold bullion. Not even a secret bank account. Evidently, the kidnappers didn't trust even an anonymous overseas account to remain that way. Smart of them. Almost too smart.

He wished M'gann were here. She could have probed the minds of their captives and perhaps gotten some answers that, so far, had eluded him. Then he smiled a rueful smile. But that's cheating.

He called the Watchtower with the news he'd uncovered. J'onn J'onzz took the call personally, this being a priority with the League. "No traces leading anywhere? Highly unusual." He frowned. Given his normal severe expression, it was sometimes hard to tell when the Martian was frowning and when he wasn't. But there was no doubt he was frowning now. "And no record of those victims not accounted for?"

"None, sir. It's like they vanished from the face of the Earth."

"Hm. We must not discount that possibility, but the odds are against it…."

"Possibility, sir?"

"As you said, they seemed to have vanished from the face of the Earth. There could, conceivably, be an extraterrestrial connection. That also could account for your inability to trace the source of their funding. Gold, after all, is commonplace on some worlds. It could be used as a unit of exchange. It is something we need to keep in mind." Pause. "How are the victims faring? They were not injured, were they?"

"No, sir. In fact, they were actually treated quite well. More so than is the norm with most kidnappers, I mean. The suspects seemed to've been looking for a specific genotype. But the captives we liberated are back with their families. We have informed them that they may be called upon to testify in court, of course."

"Of course. Now. Do you have any data as to what specific genotype the kidnappers were seeking?"

"Not much data, sir. Apparently, it's very rare. I'm transmitting that data now." He touched another button. "Whatever it is, it's nothing like what the Reach was seeking, not the metagene. Something even more rare, more subtle. You'll see, once you've gone over the data."

"Hmm, yes. I can see…this is odd."

"Sir?"

"From what you have sent me, the specific genotype our kidnappers were looking for could, conceivably, even be of extraterrestrial origin. I've seen similar genetic patterns in some of my own people."

"Martians? They were looking for a gene type found on Mars?"

"Not exclusively. But I have seen genetic patterns similar to this among my own kind, it is true." He paused a moment, running the data through the Watchtower's powerful computers. "And it appears in other races, too. Thanagar, Daxam, Raan….Nightwing, this…could be bigger than we suspected."

"You said it. Uh, I mean, yes, sir. If these kidnappers were looking for a strand of genetic material or pattern common to several extraterrestrial races…"

"I'll have to give the matter some thought. Until then, continue your own research. You may uncover clues I do not, and, anyway, I will need your own conclusions for any degree of verification. Watchtower out."

…..

"—telling you, I don't remember saying anything." Miss Martian looked from Arisia to Hal. "What did I say?" She was just now recovering from a highly embarrassing fainting spell.

"It sounded like you said, 'war in heaven.'" Arisia supplied.

"Well, I don't remember saying it. Sorry. Maybe I was, I don't know, daydreaming or something…"But privately, she doubted that.

The people of Mars had a long and interesting association with genetics, science, and mysticism, not necessarily in that order. And although Megan was not truly a green Martian, she nonetheless had inherited traits from ancestors whose involvement with the esoteric arts was quite personal, and even, in some cases, intimate.

Ragnar joined them. "There you are. I am glad to have found you all. This is a very large place, and its layout confuses me."

"Not to worry, Ragnar," chuckled Hal. "It confuses me, too. And I'm no newcomer here, either."

Ragnar turned to Megan. "Are you well?"

"Y-yes, Ragnar. I'm, uhm, okay. Why do you ask?"

"You…it seemed like something was bothering you, or that something was wrong. Do you feel alright?"

"Yes," she sighed. Truthfully, she didn't feel very well, and for reasons she couldn't explain. Somehow, she felt…a kind of nervousness, a kind of anxiety, a sort of quiet dread that just wouldn't go away. It was mentally and emotionally draining to her. "I'm fine, Ragnar." She tried changing the subject. "Are the Guardians through with you?"

"I believe so. They said they have no more questions for me right now. It was just as well; I had very few answers to give. Of course," and here he paused, a very small smile crossing his face, a face that M'gann couldn't recall a smile being on for more than a moment or two. "In this, we seemed to have much in common."

Hal was still looking around for the source of the sound they'd all heard a moment ago, but there was nothing to indicate its origin. He was only half-aware of the conversation at the table, as he scanned the rest of the café.

The other beings in the café did not seem alarmed, or even aware that there had been any unusual sound. Since Oa's atmosphere was carefully controlled by the Guardians, storms didn't just happen. The occasional rainfall, but… "Arisia. You heard that sound, too, didn't you?"

"Yeah, Hal. Why?"

"Nobody else seems to have. Don't you find that…a bit peculiar?"

She frowned, scanning the café even as he had, moments ago. "Now that you mention it, yeah, I do." She checked in with her ring: no unusual atmospheric conditions, no explosions, no meteors… "You think we should check with the Guardians?"

"Wouldn't hurt." But a few moments later they learned that the Guardians themselves had not detected any out of the ordinary reverberations in the planet's atmosphere. "I'm beginning to get a baaaad feeling about this."

"Hal," she whispered, "you think it might have something to do with…" And she glanced pointedly, at Ragnar, seated by Megan, the two of them conversing in low tones. He appeared to be asking her if she was alright; there was concern evident in his face and voice. She seemed to be endeavoring to reassure him that she was, without a whole lot of success.

Even though Ragnar was not that familiar with Miss Martian or her people (whether green or white), he nonetheless was an astute observer of his immediate environment. He'd had to be. After all, it was one's immediate environment that could kill one most immediately. And, ever since his arrival on Earth, and his making friends with some of its people, he'd come to include them in the "immediate environment" category, though not for any pure survival benefit. Put simply, he was concerned about his friends. Growing up, he'd often dreamed, fantasized about having friends, other people in his life, but the reality of actually having some had taught him a thing or two.

One took care of one's friends. That was only right.

"If you're sure…" he was saying.

"I….I do seem to have a bit of a headache. I'm sure it's nothing." She saw them looking at her. "If we're done here…I really should be getting back to Earth. I don't know but what Nightwing and the others could need me. Could need us both."

"I'll go check," Hal volunteered, rising from his seat, and lifting off into the calm air of Oa with one smooth motion. From the seat by where he'd just been, Arisia looked at the two across from her with a mixture of concern and amusement. Concern because Miss Martian was clearly not alright, though she was hiding it well, and amusement at the depth of concern for her Ragnar was displaying. A smile quirked the corners of her mouth. It didn't take an astronautics engineer to see where this was headed.

…..

"You are sure the monster is securely fastened?" Highfather was saying, looking upon the scene before him with equal parts concern and authority. His last blast at the doomsday creature had apparently either killed it or incapacitated it to the point of being essentially the same thing, but he was taking no chances. Not when the lives of his people were at stake.

"Quite," replied Metron, in his usual controlled monotone. "Those bands are of solid inertron. They are unbreakable, no matter how strong the creature is. And you can see they encompass it more than adequately." And they did. Izaya had toyed with the notion of simply encasing the beast within a solid shell of inertron, but that would have rendered it impossible to take any readings or perform any tests on it. And, Highfather admitted, Metron was right about at least one thing: the opportunity to acquire knowledge was not to be scorned. The more they knew about this monster, the better they'd be able to deal with other, similar threats that may come. True, by all accounts, this was the only one of its kind, but that did not mean lessons learned here could not be applied to other dangers.

A stray thought had gone through Izaya's head: this creature was formidable enough to make an excellent living weapon against Darkseid. But even in the instant of thinking it, he completely rejected the thought, a little embarrassed at himself for having thought it in the first place. It was one thing for the living to be soldiers, to fight in a cause they believed in. It was a very different thing for a living being, any living being, even one such as this, to be used as a weapon. That was the way Darkseid thought, and Izaya was definitely not Darkseid.

Orion was looking at his father with barely concealed awe. "Highfather, I…" Words failed him. Then he knelt before his lord, holding his helmet in the crook of his arm. "I humbly ask your forgiveness."

Izaya was startled. "For what, my son? And, please, rise from the floor. I can hear you better when we are face to face."

Orion arose, but he would not meet his father's gaze. "I…I thought it foolhardy of you to go to do battle with this monster alone. Yet you prevailed where so many did not. I…ask, no, I beg your forgiveness for doubting you." And he bowed his head.

Izaya smiled, and placed his hand upon his son's shoulder. "No forgiveness is needed, my son. You did nothing I myself did not do. But, if you so desire it, for your own sake, yes, I forgive you." Smile. "But perhaps next time—should there be one, which there hopefully will not be—you will have learned to trust me better. I know what I am doing." Most of the time.

"My lord?" Metron's voice alerted him.

"Yes?"

"My readings indicate the creature may be regaining consciousness…" Even as he said it, the powerful form before them began to twist and strain against the bonds encasing it. "While I am not one to lightly advocate the removal of a potential source of such great knowledge, it might be in everyone's interest to decide what we wish to do with the creature. Just because those bands are unbreakable does not mean the creature cannot harm us, even bound as it is."

"Indeed." Highfather thought for the briefest of moments. Then, "Ready a transport tube. One place even this creature cannot escape from is from within the event horizon of a black hole."

By now, the monster was visibly straining against the unbreakable bands, its eyes covered, in case it should suddenly "develop" eye beam weaponry. Sounds that could barely be reminiscent of normal speech patterns found in many humanoids emerged, growing stronger by the minute.

The gods conferred, silently, then joined their mother boxes to form a single boom tube, opening up to a spot just outside a supermassive black hole in the center of the galaxy. Metron's Mobius chair's tractor beam picked up the now-struggling form and sent it hurtling into the tube, and the waiting darkness beyond.

…

Ragnar was still concerned about Megan, and insisted that she be seen by someone, just to make sure she was alright. On Oa, that "someone" was actually a fully automated room equipped with what were, to the Guardians, state of the art medical diagnostic and treatment machines. Arisia had accompanied her into the room, and stood by while the machines probed her. "Uhm, Arisia?"

"Mm?"

"I, I have a confession to make. Can you keep a secret?"

Arisia cocked her head at M'gann, lying prone on the table, with the machines scanning her. "I guess that depends on the secret. I mean, if you're about to tell me you're secretly planning to destroy the entire universe, or something along those lines, then, no, I can't. Somehow I doubt it's that serious, though. But any ordinary secret, yeah, I can do that. Why? What is it?"

"Well, it's just…I don't want Ragnar to find out. I'm actually a white Martian, not a green one."

Arisia considered. She knew about the two races of Mars, and knew why M'gann preferred to be in the disguise she was. "Well, I certainly won't tell him. But don't you think you should? I mean…"

"I, I couldn't. I mean, I, I look like…"

The golden GL crossed and recrossed her legs. "Sooo, what you're actually saying is …you want to deceive him? Is that it?" She leaned forward. "Does that seem like the right thing to do, to you?"

"I, I.."

"M'gann, I can only tell you one thing, from my personal experience about that. There's all kinds of monsters, but the very worst kind look no different than us. It's what they do that makes 'em monsters."

No response.

"M' gann…listen to me. I'm not exactly the fount of all wisdom on these matters, but…relationships can't be built on lies. One lie leads to another, and then there's no end. So don't you think you should tell him, now?"

Megan was as silent as the machines scanning her. Then, "Yes. I, I guess you're right. It's just…"

"You're afraid. You're afraid he'll find you repulsive, is that it?"

"Y-yes. Basically."

"Won't he find out sooner or later, regardless?"

More silence. Then she sighed. "You're right. I guess I should get this, this out in the open, before…" But she was interrupted by the chime signaling the end of the scan. "Subject: M'gann M'orzz. Place of origin: sector 2814, Sol system, Mars. Species: white Martian. Subject is in good health; no medical problems detected. Diagnosis: subject has been subjected to mental and/or emotional stress, resulting in brief period of unconsciousness. Prognosis: excellent."

Megan got up from the table. She didn't look all that reassured. I just wish my social life had a similar prognosis.

…

Hal and a nervous Ragnar were waiting outside the 'doc room. Ragnar couldn't keep still. He was intensely worried about his friend, and was pacing the floor. Hal was privately amused by his concern, and found it touching. He was reminded of the old Earth sitcoms of an expectant father pacing in the waiting room of a hospital. "It's most probably nothing to worry about, Ragnar. She probably just got tired or something. Or, worse case scenario, she may have some sort of bug like the flu or something. Easily treatable. Especially here."

Ragnar continued to pace, around and around and around, arms behind his back. "I have discovered many things since my arrival in your star system, Hal Jordan." He stopped, and turned to Jordan. "Do you know what the two most useless words in the English language are?"

"That sounds like a trick question…"

"'Don't worry.' I am really unsure why anyone ever bothers to use them in the first place."

Hal chuckled. "Ragnar…I'd almost believe you were in love."

Again Ragnar stopped. "What is that?"

"What's what?"

"'In love.' What is that?"

Now I've done it. Open mouth, insert foot, close mouth. Rinse and repeat. "Er, well, it's where you care about someone, someone special, in a very intense way."

Ragnar stopped dead in his tracks. "Do I…do you think I…do you think that is what it is? That I am this 'in love'? With Megan?"

Jordan held his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Don't put me on the spot like that. I don't know. What do you think? That's what matters."

"I, I don't know. I have never before felt this way towards another person, but then again, I have only recently come to know any other people to begin with. So I don't know the answer to th-*" And the doors swooshed open, as Arisia and Megan emerged.

He immediately ran up to her. "Megan! You are well?" M'gann couldn't help but be touched by the expression on his face. He'd really been worried about her. "Yes, Ragnar, I'm fine. But…" She paused, looking around the room. Except for Hal Jordan and Arisia, there was no-one else there. Still, that was two too many. "We…we need to talk. Somewhere private." She couldn't look him in the face.

"C'mon, Hal. Let's make ourselves scarce." Arisia levered Hal Jordan out of the small lobby, and down the hallway. "I wanna show you this really special drink vending machine that's just right around the corner and down the hall, here…."

Back in the waiting room, Miss Martian turned to a still-clearly worried Ragnar. "Ragnar, I'm fine. The autodoc checked me out and said it was just…stress of some sort. Nothing to be alarmed about.

"But there's something about me you need to know. Something big. A-and, when you know about it…well, we'll see. You…you may not want to be around me anymore, or at least as much."

"Megan, you aren't making sense. You're perfectly fine, but, but there's something about you that I don't know that would make me not want to have anything to do with you? What could that possibly be? I don't understand." What ever was she talking about?

She turned away. "It's just…Ragnar, this isn't the way I really look. I'm not a green Martian at all. And even if I was, I still wouldn't look like this.

"But what I actually look like is-*"

"Like this?" She turned, and gasped. He'd projected, with his ring, a golden light image of her in her monstrous white Martian form.

"That—that's it exactly. How, how did you…?"

He came over to her, and, very deliberately, took her in his arms. It was the gesture of a supportive friend, with just a touch of the romantic in it. He pressed her head against his shoulder. "I've known, suspected, ever since that first conversation we had, outside your school. I don't know how I knew, but somehow I did. I wasn't sure but…And then, when you read my mind, it was clearer. I saw an image of what you look like in your own mind. So I've known."

"And, and you're not…disgusted? I mean, I, I look like a monster!"

He pressed her close to him. "You look," he said firmly, "like my friend."

To be continued…