Gold Justice, Chapter 6: Warnings

Miss Martian woke up. It wasn't her telepathy, but somehow she knew something was wrong. She threw on a robe, and emerged into the hallway. Later on, she could never have said just how she knew, but she knew, beyond any doubt, that Ragnar was in trouble. There; down the hall: she could see flashes of golden light coming from under the door to his quarters. Was he fighting a battle in there? Against who? Even her hearing could pick up no sound…

At his door, she signaled for entrance. "Ragnar! Ragnar! Are you alright in there?" No response.

Desperate times…she'd long ago learned to alter her density so as to pass through solid objects. She did so now, and gasped when she saw Ragnar, in uniform, down on all fours on the floor. His power battery was floating in midair, and emitting silent random flashes of golden light that played over everything in the room. She didn't know much about power ring batteries, but she knew enough to know this wasn't normal.

She got down on the floor beside him, trying to hold him, shield him from the lightning-like golden flashes. "Ragnar! Wake up! Wake up!" He was unresponsive, shuddering, his eyes rolled up into the top of his head. She turned to the floating power battery. "Stop this! Leave him alone!"

She hit her comm. link. "Trouble, people. Ragnar's room. Come quick!" Within minutes, the rest of the team currently housed in Mt. Justice had assembled, as best they could, in Ragnar's small room. But numbers didn't seem to matter; the battery was still giving off random flashes of light, and Ragnar was still unresponsive.

Nightwing tele'd the Watchtower. "J'onn! Got a problem here! Are either of the GLs present?"

"John Stewart is on duty right now. Describe what's happening." And the Martian Manhunter three-wayed the conversation to Stewart. "Any thoughts, John? What could be going on?"

Stewart shook his head. "I've never heard of anything like this happening before. I'm gonna ring up Hal, though; he may know something." But moments later, they learned that Hal had never encountered any situation like this, either. "It's almost like the battery's attacking him, somehow. Or, or some kind of feedback. What's his medical condition?"

Nightwing and Miss Martian both examined Ragnar as best as they could. "Can't really tell; we don't have any proper diagnostics in here. M'gann? Are you sensing anything?"

"Only…only horror. And, and…." She stopped, puzzled by what she was sensing. "It's like he's feeling a kind of self-loathing, a self-hate. But I can't get any clear picture!" Her voice was desperate.

"See if you can reach him, telepathically. It's the only thing we have to go on." And Megan concentrated, willing her thoughts to become one with her…friend's.

What she saw made no sense. Only a jumble of images similar to an Earthly kaleidoscope as seen from within, but nothing that would account for his present turmoil.

On the very edge of his mind, she caught the faintest glimmer of a coherent thought pattern. Cautiously, she approached it. If something was attacking Ragnar on a psychic level, she needed to exercise caution. It wouldn't help anyone if whatever it was caught her, too.

But it appeared to be him, huddled over, as though trying for a fetal position. Ragnar? She 'pathed, Ragnar, it's me, Megan. What in the world is going on? What's wrong?

Everything's wrong, Megan! Nothing's right! I, I can't-* Another confused jumble of images, as the kaleidoscopic images changed yet again. I can't hold on!

"No," she murmured to herself, cradling his head in her lap, there on the floor of his room, "you've got to. Come on, Ragnar. Pull it together. We need you." I need you.

I…I don't know if I can….

You've got to try. Come on. Come on with me; let's leave this place. Come on back to us. In her mind, she pictured herself as holding his hand, leading him back away from the insanity that surrounded him, that surrounded them both.

It was an uphill battle. Whatever was going on in Ragnar's psyche had a tenacious hold over him. Several times, they both felt like they were being buffeted about by hurricane force winds, only barely managing to hang onto each other.

Slowly, gradually, the two made it out of wherever it was. Finally, Ragnar opened his eyes, recognizing his surroundings….and the girl in whose lap his head rested. "I…I am…I am back. Thank you, Megan. Thank you all."

Megan herself was out of psychic "breath" from the ordeal. "Hey, just don't scare me like that again! I'm not sure my heart can take it." But she smiled down at him, and he smiled back.

"Ragnar? What happened there?" Nightwing had maintained the communication channel open to the Watchtower, and several holograms of J'onn J'onzz, John Stewart, and Hal Jordan waited expectantly, floating in mid-air.

Ragnar and Megan rose. "I…I'm not sure. I was recharging my ring, and…I asked my battery if Sarah was in there. You told me," he indicated Hal's hologram, "that sometimes entities live inside power ring batteries. I thought perhaps she might be the entity inside mine. But…I got no response. Then…everything went…wrong. I, I don't know why."

Jordan nodded. "It was a logical deduction. I found out the hard way that Parallax was living inside the main battery on Oa. But what happened?"

Ragnar explained to them about the images that had cascaded through his mind. "And in each and every one, I saw myself as being the cause of all the misery. Why, I don't know."

"It…may mean nothing, Ragnar. Or it may mean everything. Did the Guardians examine your power battery, while you were on Oa?" Privately, he wondered if the battery could be defective in some way. But since no one but the Guardians themselves seemed to know how such batteries worked in the first place…

"Yes, they did. If they discovered anything, however, they did not share that information with me."

Typical, thought Jordan. "Well, surely if the battery itself was somehow defective or dangerous to you in some way, they'd have said something." He made a mental note to inquire about that, first chance he got.

"One thing I know," Ragnar continued, now sitting on the couch, with Megan beside him, "There is something going on, something involving me. I don't know what or how, but…there is danger. What I seemed to be sensing was that I was somehow responsible for the deaths of untold millions. I know that I, personally, have never killed anyone. But I received the distinct impression that I was somehow to blame…or would be to blame…for these deaths." He looked up at Nightwing, Kid Flash, Megan, and the holograms of those in conference with them, there in his room. "I know that everyone has advised me that my answers lie in the future, and this I do not doubt. But…. I feel I must learn more about my past, my origins." He turned to Nightwing. "Nightwing, I must return to my old home and research this matter. My ship's files were damaged, but perhaps there is something there that could tell me something, knowing what I now know."

Dick sighed, slightly. He'd come to the same conclusion. "I agree, Ragnar. But your own searchings told you nothing. Maybe you could take someone with you…." Megan perked up at the words. "…Maybe, if they can, one or more of our GL's could accompany you there. Whatever you find could be transmitted directly to the Guardians. They'd be in the best position to sift through it…Megan, maybe you'd better sit this one out. I really need you here, in case this kidnapping case nabs us more suspects. Your telepathy…."

"Dick, I really would like to go with him. Plus, it may be that my telepathy will be more useful there," she began, angling her proposal, "since it was my telepathy that uncovered those latent memories in his mind the first time…"

But he was shaking his head. "I really need you here. And besides, your telepathy is no good on computers, anyway. No, if Hal or John could accompany Ragnar to his old home world, that'd really be for the best. Hal? John?" He addressed the holograms still suspended in mid-air.

"I've already conferred with the Guardians, and we're both available."

"Dick, please. Ragnar may need my help. If it hadn't been for my telepathy, he might not have come out of this…this…whatever it was. Who's to say that won't recur? And neither Hal nor John is a telepath."

"She has a point," Ragnar said. "I truly don't know what would've happened, just now, had she not…found me, somehow."

"Plus, I do know a thing or two about computers," Megan persisted. "And we wouldn't have to be gone long, anyway. Just long enough to download the ship's files onto an external drive. I doubt it would take more than a day. Maybe less."

Nightwing threw up his hands. "Alright, already. But two days absolute max. Got it?"

…..

The flight to Ragnar's home world was an experience for Miss Martian. Previously, she'd been accustomed to traveling between planets in starships, but this flying through empty space, with no ship's hull around you, was both exhilarating and a bit frightening.

She and Ragnar were in front, as he had to lead the way. Green Lanterns Hal Jordan and John Stewart followed closely behind, all of them protected by their rings' field of protection. Several times, Ragnar had to stop and get his bearings, then they took off again.

After several course corrections, they finally arrived at what appeared to be a very Earthlike world, one which had been home to Ragnar for so many years. Megan took the opportunity to examine this world from space, using her Martian senses.

Overall, remarkably Earthlike. It was mostly forest or jungle, depending upon closeness to the equator, but the poles showed the white of ice caps, although here they were smaller than Earth, and there were isolated areas resembling the American southwest. It was to one of these, in the northern hemisphere, that Ragnar led them. They touched down on a boulder-strewn area that reminded Megan and the Green Lanterns of Arizona. "So, where's your ship, Ragnar?" asked Hal Jordan, looking about. The view was unobscured, and he could see nothing in any direction that might indicate a crashed starship, or, indeed, any sort of artifact at all…

"It's right here. You don't see it—well, actually, you do, but part of the ship's defensive shielding involves what I suppose you'd call a thought screen." He was walking toward a large, more or less flat place, up against a small mountain.

"A thought screen?" Hal flashed his ring around, searching for the ship.

"Yes. The ship is right here, in front of you, but the thought screen prevents you from thinking about it. In other words, you see it but you don't notice it." He walked up to what appeared to be an empty space. "Wait a moment. The ship's defenses are programmed to refuse entry to any but me." He frowned, extending forth his hand….

….and the air in front of him rippled in a thoroughly disturbing way, revealing a large crystalline structure, half-buried against the hill it was up against. "There. Here we go." And he led them into the ship itself.

…..

Sector 0875: Arisia and her team were busily scanning the area. They'd already come across the corpses of the fallen Lanterns Tamar Roj and 'X'lyn. Arisia shuddered; she'd seen better looking bodies in starship crashes. Whatever had killed them had been nothing if not thorough.

The trail of devastated worlds led into the next sector. She paused, telecommunicating with the Guardians (who always seemed to be in council session; Arisia suppressed a smile. Didn't they ever take bathroom breaks?), informing them of the trail of destruction they'd seen. The Guardians had been most insistent that she check in on a regular basis, and their demands for information had seemed to take on a hint of desperation, to Arisia's ear.

"You are certain you saw no ion trail, no indication of any form of spacecraft or any other sort of vehicle?"

"Yes, masters. We looked especially for those, including any warp signatures that might indicate teleport or translight technology. But all we have so far is a heap of dead bodies. We've sent the remains of Tamar Roj and 'X'lyn back. Perhaps a forensics team could tell us a bit more about what killed them."

"No trace of any weapons systems?"

"None, masters. They were apparently simply torn apart. But I can't even imagine what sort of forces could do that to not one, but two prepared Corps members."
There was a silence on the other end. Then, "Continue collecting the data. Try to determine the trajectory of whatever it may be, both backward and forward. Perhaps if we backtrack it, we may learn something. Oa out."

….

Ragnar's ship: Megan and the two Green Lanterns were looking about them in barely disguised awe. For a wrecked spaceship, this place was…highly advanced and, so far as they could tell, very functional. Hal had been thinking they'd find bits and pieces, but this…

"And you lived here for, for what? Fifteen years, Ragnar?"

"Yes, Megan. At least, that is as near as I can approximate it, having no concept of 'years' at the time." He started down one hallway, a determined look on his face. "Excuse me, there is something I must see." The other three glanced at each other; Megan then moved to follow him. She had a hunch where he was going.

She followed him into a large storage area, with bay doors all along both sides of the walls. He went straight to one, and pulled it open.

The drawer thus revealed was an empty slab approximately five feet wide and ten feet long. He pulled it out, and she noted him gazing at the heavy fabric covering over it. "This is where they were, wasn't it?" She was referring to the remains of his parents, that, for all his life, had been all he'd known of them.

Wordlessly, he nodded, not fully trusting himself to speak. The covering was loose, but it looked like it might have, at one time, served to cover the remains of two adult humanoid bodies. "This…this is where they were. Now…" He gestured, helplessly, at the empty slab.

Ragnar's parents had recently been resurrected as Black Lanterns, and had attacked him on Earth. He'd beaten them back, rejecting their "offers" of "reunification," but only with the help of his new friends in the Justice League and the Team. And, of course, with the help of the mysterious entity known only as "Sarah Marshall," who had instructed him on his changed ring, and how to use it. "For so long, Megan, I…this was all I had of them. I even," he added, shamefacedly, "I would occasionally come down here to talk to them. I mean, I knew they couldn't talk back, but…they were all I had. Now, now even that's gone."

She came up to his side. "Ragnar…it's like I've been saying: they're the past. Yes, I know even their bones are gone, but no one can take your memories away. Or your dreams. And some of those dreams have come true, haven't they? I mean, you now have living, breathing friends to talk to, right?" And maybe one who's more than just a friend?

He nodded, but his gesture had a touch of sadness to it. "I suppose I just didn't want to accept that they were truly gone. But they are. There's no going back."

"Did you really want to go back?"

Hesitation. "At one time…yes. When it all seemed like everything was going so wrong…I wanted to come back here and just go back to, to the way things had been. I see now that that was foolish—I couldn't have done so, even had I made it back here. My experiences had changed me. Yes, I could have come back here—physically. But mentally, emotionally? No. I couldn't go back to being the way I was. I, I wouldn't be…happy like that. Not that I ever really was."

She laid her head on his shoulder. Strange; she hadn't felt this way in…a long time. When she and Conner had parted ways, she'd vowed not to become entangled with another, not for a very long, long time. Yet here she was…"Like you said, Ragnar, you've changed. You can't go home again, not because home isn't there, but because you are different now. What do you think you'd have been like, had you never left?" Looking up at him, from within the embrace of his arm. It hadn't totally registered to either of them that they were embracing each other.

"I…Probably not the sort of person I'd really be interested in knowing. All I knew, when I lived here, was fear. Fear of the predators, but mostly fear of being alone. And there was no escape from that."

She hugged him. "Well, I won't lie and say there are no predators out there, but you definitely aren't alone anymore. And you can, as the humans say, take that to the bank."

He stared down at her. "I can? How?"

…..

In the forward part of the ship, Hal Jordan and John Stewart were gazing in awe at the surroundings. "I haven't seen anything this advanced outside of, well, outside of Oa itself. Look." John pointed at an array of crystals. "Those look like the control rods for a zero-point controlled singularity energy recycler. And those," he pointed up, towards the ceiling, "I could swear they remind me of a Kryptonian navigation array. That might plug straight into the ship's nav computers…we'd probably do well to start there."

"Hold on, John. Remember, just because we're inside doesn't mean we're authorized personnel. There could be booby traps specifically set to catch meddlers like us. We'd better wait for Ragnar and M'gann to rejoin us."

John grinned. "They do seem to do just about everything together, don't they? Ah, to be young and in love like that…"

"Ixnay on the Ov-lay Alk-tay. Let 'em get acquainted at their own speed. And it may not be anything like that at all, you know. I get the distinct impression our Gold Lantern is a complete innocent. No need to go off looking for a wedding coordinator just yet." Pause. "But those crystal rods do look very similarly to Ovian crystalline tech, and that was descended directly from Kandorian technology. Just mark those areas, and scan what you can for when they do get back. Passive scans only, though; we don't know what nasty surprises this ship could hold. And given the state of the art here, I can see it as being something we probably really wouldn't like. So…patience, John. They'll be back soon enough."

…

Actually, Ragnar had taken Megan for a stroll in the nearby forested area, close by where his ship was. "I used to come here every day, more often than not just because it was a quiet, cool place where I could just think. And yes, relax. As much as I ever allowed myself to relax, that is."

"Oh, Ragnar, it's lovely!" He'd led her to a small pond, enclosed on all sides by green trees that hung, to one degree or another, over the water. A stream fed the pond, and the combination of the coolness, the shade, and the soothing sound of the water trickling and chuckling over the rocks as it delivered its payload into the pond, made for an oasis, or at least, as much of one as Megan had ever seen, in her life, water, after all, being highly sought after and jealously guarded on Mars.

But here, there was plenty of water, all of it fresh, as her senses could tell her. No odd chemicals or microorganisms, just good, pure, cold water. There was even a bit of a sandy beach over to one side.

She threw caution to the winds. Shucking off her standard uniform, and using her shape-changing powers to alter herself so that she looked like she was wearing a swimsuit, she made for the water's edge. "Race ya!"

Ragnar was taken completely by surprise. But he could adapt, using his ring to change his outfit into one such as he'd seen on Earthly beaches, and plunged into the water beside her.

….

Back on Ragnar's ship: Hal and John were busy compiling and transmitting the data they'd acquired from the ship's computers. Just the raw data itself wasn't enough; that data had to be translated into a format usable by the Guardians' computers. Not only was the information in another, completely unknown language, but the data itself stored in a format unique to itself.

Some things could wait, and some things they had to guess at, just in order to compile it all. Several times, John had to ask Ragnar questions about what his best guess was of a fill-in-the-blank. And several times, Ragnar hadn't been able to come up with anything, himself.

"Personnel," muttered John Stewart, "crew—I'm guessing that means crew. Closest translation appears to be 'operators,' or 'operatives.' But it seems to fit in the context of the sentence." But something caught his attention. "Ragnar? Take a look at this."

Ragnar looked over John's shoulder at the readout on the screen. "I'm guessing," Stewart continued, "that these are downloaded files from, from like, a mothership? Or something. Anyway, they indicate humanoid life-forms." And they did. The files indicated a total of three-hundred fifty-seven…."Ragnar, what's this word?"

"I don't know. I never—wait. In the files of this ship, when I ran my usual scans, that term often came up as 'supplies.' But that can't be right."

"Couldn't possibly be." John chewed on a knuckle. "Of course, some languages, some words do double, or even triple, duty. I mean, we're talking about intelligent beings here, it even says so….Wait. Ragnar, what's that word?" He pointed to an unfamiliar ideogram, one they hadn't taken note of before.

Ragnar squinted, not because he couldn't see the word, but frowning in concentration. "That's got to be part of the damaged files. That term is inaccurate."

John scanned the files even then being uploaded. "But it appears in several places, always linked to this same file, and it looks like it's referring to the same thing, the same concept. Could the damage have been that widespread?"

Ragnar shook his head. "These files must be corrupted, somehow. Because, in the language of my people, that word means-*" He broke off, his expression one of disbelief. "No. No. It can't be that. There has to be some other explanation."

Megan noticed his look, and could see the turmoil in his mind, even if she couldn't read his mind very well. He was obviously upset about something, and she didn't need telepathy to know that. "But what does that term mean, Ragnar?"

"It—it means nothing. It is inaccurate; that's all there is to it." He bit his lip. Hard.

She took him to one side, away from Hal and John. "Ragnar. What's wrong? Don't try to tell me nothing is; I'm a telepath, remember? So come on: tell me."

But he backed away, his expression angry. "It means nothing! I tell you, that file is corrupted! It…could not mean…what it says!" And with that, he turned and flew out of the ship.

Megan, Hal, and John just looked at each other. What was that all about?

…

Megan found him by the pool, sitting on a rock shelf, dangling his feet in the cool water. She came up and sat by him, not saying a word. She could tell, even without telepathy, that he knew she was there.

For long minutes, they sat in silence. Then he spoke up. "I, I am sorry if I yelled at you. You are not to blame."

She touched his arm. "Ragnar…what was so upsetting about that word? Why did it…have this effect on you? Won't you tell me?" Her eyes pleaded with him. "We're friends, Ragnar. You know you can tell me anything."

"I am…actually trying not to tell myself. I took it out on you. And the others. I am sorry."

"But what about a simple word could be so disturbing to you?"

He drew a deep breath. "The word, the word John Stewart was questioning me about, has only one meaning. It means…cargo." Pause. "And it was definitely referring to the people, the humanoids, from the old ship."

Her breath caught. Miss Martian was no stranger to dark secrets… "Ragnar? The, the word used to describe your people was…cargo?"

He looked down at the crystal clear water, not seeing any of it. All he saw, right then, were the images she'd pulled out of his mind: the crowding, the screams… "Cargo. And it was referring to my people. Megan….there aren't many ways to interpret that. We were listed as cargo. Slaves, in other words."

"Ragnar…that's, that's horrible, I know, but, I mean, why would that affect you so?"

"You haven't thought it through." He looked up at the sky overhead, the deepening twilight, the first stars beginning to show. How he wished he could see them as he once did, in a more innocent day. "My parents…they were the same beings as the ones listed as 'cargo.'" She waited. His mind was a confused jumble of emotions, thoughts, even more so now than ever before. "But unlike the others, they were able to get away from whatever was threatening them, threatening them all.

"So they were either slaves….

"Or the slavers."

To be continued…