Knights or Justice?
Chapter 8: "Requiem for a Zero"
by AstroCitizen
Imperial Palace, the City of Pendragon
Holy Empire of Britannia, mainland (a.k.a. Area 1)
The Retaliation plus five days
"Is everyone friends again, Your Lordship?" asked Dr. Dorado.
Kanon Maldini's response was cheerful and disarming. Most would have taken his response as insincere with the intention of making the other person squirm for so flippant a remark. But Dorado had spoken in the same detached monotone he'd always used as of late. That in tandem with his gloomy features, and Kanon dismissed any sense of disrespect on his part.
"Just a tiff, no more," he said. "Brothers and sisters with different views on how to approach matters. After all, what family doesn't have its difficulties?" Of course, he had trouble not visualizing Cain and Abel as he said so.
As the meeting had finally broken up, Kanon had stepped away from his liege, giving him room so he could sooth frayed nerves among his siblings. The young earl had used this as an opportunity to congratulate the various Tarnhelm Project scientists for explaining the basis of their work and how it impacted on current events. (And, no, they had nothing to worry about any of the imperial court looking to take a pound of flesh out of their hides.)
Dorado had stood separated from the rest, all waiting their chance to be glad-handed, while he packed his things away. All manner of scientific doodads had been brought in to demonstrate the evolution of the Tarnhelm and the science at work, which had unfortunately brought about the current sad state of affairs. As Kanon approached, Dorado had picked up one such instrument, a homemade-looking handheld device that seemed to be acting up. The former Three frowned as a single light flashed on and off randomly. Tapping it on its side, he finally shrugged and, clicking the off-button, tossed it into a satchel.
Maldini had been a silent witness to this as Dorado glumly continued about packing up his equipment when he'd unexpectedly spoken.
"As it stands," Dorado continued, "I hope I didn't bore anyone too much. I fear Miss Einstein and myself were distractions more than anything."
As he said so, Kanon took a glance behind himself. The same girl was now falling over herself to behave politely as his liege and Prince Lelouch introduced her to Cornelia's sister. Returning his attention, Kanon continued speaking. "She'll of course be returning to the fold at Tarnhelm, whatever may happen. His Highness, Prince Schneizel, feels that our capacity for dimensional transference in all areas needs to grow more rapidly than expected, and since she was so much help when the research hit a roadblock before…"
"Say no more, Your Lordship. Without her, all our work would have been meaningless."
"Speaking of meaninglessness," Kanon said, choosing his words carefully. "His Highness was very happy to see that you kept your commentary to the hard facts at work, doctor. Very few within the imperial family would have been as understanding as Prince Schneizel regarding your… epiphany."
Dorado's response, characteristically, was as dismal as his expression. "If I'd told them and they'd reacted negatively as you say, that would just mean there would now be another world where they didn't react. As it stands, this all means there's now a series of worlds where I did share my – shall we say – philosophy, Your Lordship."
Kanon bit his tongue and blinked to prevent his eyes from rolling. "Philosophy"?! A verbal suicide note, more like it!
He'd been there when the Tarnhelm scientists had presented his prince with their conclusions on the mystery of Peanut's journeys, and their conclusion was astonishing. The discovery of divergent worlds meant all possible scenarios of any event in history were a reality somewhere. He among others had viewed this as something akin to divine compensation for only getting one chance to make a decision.
But where others found illumination, Dr. Dorado only saw disillusionment. He'd shocked all of them with his grim pronouncement that this effectively rendered life meaningless.
"Hold your tongue, Number!" a scientist, one who was more stubborn than most in accepting an Honorary Britannian into their midst, snapped at him. "That's the Second Prince of the Empire you're speaking to!"
Dorado, at first, seemed not to have even heard him, but then, as with great reluctance, he started speaking again.
"Yes, yes I am speaking to a prince of the Empire… here." As he said so, he plucked up one of the ball bearings they spilled onto a table to represent the multiple Earths that theoretically – well, not so theoretical anymore – existed. He held it up, showing that it represented their world. He repeated this action with another ball bearing, then more, as he continued speaking. "And here? I'm the master and he's the servant. Here, we speak as equals. Here, we're not speaking at all, as I was never discovered and am still living in Area 3."
He dumped the ball bearings back onto the table, allowing them to bounce off one another as he simply pointed at them in turn. "Here, again we're not speaking, but it's because the parents of one of us, maybe both, never met and we were never born. Here, the Black Death raged out of control and the human race was exterminated. And so on and so on, the possible outcome of any event, however slight, played out."
Many of the scientists were aghast, other furious. Some of the latter group tried to suppress smiles as Prince Schneizel stepped forward, sure they were about to see the rising star of Dr. Eduardo L. Dorado go nova. Kanon himself wasn't sure what his master would do; the prince could often be depended on to find… unique ways of solving problems in the ranks. Unconsciously, his hand reached up to touch the left side of his face as he considered this.
"Facts speak for themselves, so I cannot deny the likelihood of your words, doctor," the Second Prince allowed as he spoke evenly. "That being said, these deviations from world to world are born of our actions. I cannot see how this lessens us. In fact, it emphasizes the effect that people have upon which way history marches. The impact of our choices, for better or worse."
"There is no 'for better', Your Highness," Dorado corrected, "and it couldn't possibly get any worse." His response, however, was not insolent as it first seemed, but rather contrite, like a doctor informing a patient his condition was terminal and incurable. "One of the supreme tenets of humanity is the fact that Man is self-aware. We have a full sense of choice, we can measure our options and make decisions, therefore holding some control over our lives.
"But this…" He gestured at the Tarnhelm device, as if pointing out the innumerable worlds that it granted them access. "If the results of all of our choices, of every option that ever was or could have been, occur somewhere, then how can we say that we made a decision? We can't… we're not individuals making choices, we're legions of duplicates, splitting off again and again to play out each consequence of the options that come our way.
"As such, all our knowledge, our ingenuity, our strength is neutralized. Self-determination is rendered moot, free will becomes an illusion. We've no control, not even of our own lives. And without that control, even in its tiniest portion, life is meaningless."
Kanon realized here that his earlier analogy was incorrect. Listening to Dorado was more like a sailor trapped on a sinking ship in the middle of the ocean, addressing another who had not realized their plight. He looked like a broken man, which was underlined as he collapsed into a chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Sitting in the presence of royalty was simply not done, but his action was so pathetic, bereft of hope…
Many of the other scientists began exchanging frightened glances as they considered the implications of Dorado's theory. Even the more verbal opponents to Dorado as had spoken earlier were looking disquieted and green about the gills. Kanon found himself unnerved by the idea too, as it trivialized everything he said or did with an equivalent "him" that would take the opposite action.
Unbidden, an old nursery rhyme suddenly popped into his head:
"Daisy, daisy, who shall it be?
Who shall it be who will marry me?
Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief,
Doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief,
Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor."
Apparently, they all get a shot at you, young lover, he couldn't help but think.
From his seat, Dorado looked up and seemed to remember he was in the presence of royalty again. "Forgive me, my lord," he piped up although he remained seated, as it wasn't his social gaffe he was apologizing for as he continued, "but there's no action to take. We're actors trapped in a play. And there is nothing – nothing – that can be done to change it. We have no power. None of us do. We never did… no one ever did. We're nothing, less than Numbers. We are all… Zeroes."
Earl Maldini still felt chills thinking about it. It had reminded him all too much of a visit to the Californian provinces as a child, where he'd experienced an earthquake. It had been minor and was over before he even realized it was happening. Still, he'd almost panicked, and been disquieted for days on end afterward. If you can't even depend on the ground to stand still, he'd thought, then what can you depend on?
As with most things in life, Prince Schneizel had taken it all in stride. He always thought several steps ahead of himself and others, which he was confident nullified a good deal of this "anything that could happen does" belief of the doctor. At least where he was concerned, that is. Anyway, he was never a man who bothered to worry about what might have been.
The Chancellor's main concern in the aftermath had been what to do about Dr. Dorado. Oh, he wasn't worried that the scientist may turn rebellious; in fact, his bleak moment of clarity displayed an ironclad belief that any impertinent action would be meaningless. The man had continued his work, dutiful as ever, but now with the air of a death row prisoner who'd accepted his fate.
No, Schneizel had been worried that the Honorary Britannian – "Or fellow Zero, as the doctor would have it," he'd once commented wryly – might be become suicidal. They couldn't have that, not while His Highness still hoped that teleportation was feasible if they tilted the original research a certain way. And since Dorado remained the only project member who seemed to have a clear understanding of the processes involved…
Kanon suppressed a chuckle, remembering attempts to solve Dorado's state of mind. At some point, he'd discreetly passed him a matchbook with a time, an address, and a password written inside the lid. It was to a very high-class, A-list only brothel in Pendragon for which he'd made an appointment for the good doctor.
He hadn't bothered to check to see if Dorado had gone or not. As it was, Dorado's morose outlook carried on as he shuffled about his lab with his head down. But then so had his life and his exemplary work continued, so who was going to complain?
"Incidentally, My Lord…"
Dorado's sudden words shook the earl from his musings. "Yes, Doctor?"
"I've been devoting thought to the current state of war with Earth-2. I've an idea, but it will require further work with Miss Einstein."
"Er, what kind of idea?" asked Kanon, feeling a sweat drop coming along.
"It depends… after the Lord Viceroy's rescue attempt is complete, will the Empire wish to continue campaigns on alternate worlds? And if so, will Earth-2 be included?"
Maldini's eyebrow rose at the deflective answer. "How does that impact on your idea?"
"I have in mind a device," he said simply. "Depending on how it is adjusted, we can use it upon ourselves, and be protected from further trans-dimensional incursions. Or it can be used on Earth-2, and trap it within its own reality, safely away from us," he answered.
After a beat he added, "Right now, it's purely theoretical, of course. An idea on the particles involved in the Tarnhelm process, and how to put a little pepper on them, as they say. To engineer such a device… well, I haven't even started on it, really."
Kanon let go of the breath he'd been holding. He was uneasy about the whole thing, as Dr. Dorado's last big idea had (A) not worked as they intended, and (B) was the reason for the current war to begin with.
"I cannot say for certain which option His Highness may go for, if either." With some hesitancy, he added, "I cannot even say if His Highness will be in a position to have a voice upon the matter once Prince Lelouch returns."
The earl kept his voice steady as he answered, trying to keep out the distress at the consequences should the Emperor return. His liege had taken a lot of liberties with his post as of late, and some of the things he had said could be interpreted as treason, regardless of consideration for the Ragnarok files. His own thoughts had definitely gone in that direction, thinking it would be best for all concerned if Emperor Charles did not return, his neglectful reign in the past few years being reason enough.
"I'm sorry I cannot give a more definitive answer than that, Dr. Dorado."
It was obfuscating answer, and yet… For a split-second, he could have sworn a smile had played across the doctor's lips. But he'd blinked at the same time, so he couldn't tell if it was just a trick of the lights.
/ * CG * /
Dr. Eduardo Luis Dorado waited patiently as the Chancellor's boy-toy made his excuses. Or rather the man known as Dr. Dorado waited patiently. It would have been quite impossible for the actual man born Eddie Dorado to have done the same, having long since rotted to bones and scraps of desiccated flesh in an Area 3 landfill.
The man using the late janitor's name continued to deal with the earl, thinking that the nobleman could save his apologies, as any fool could tell the Empire would be open to suggestions for a cure-all weapon against their latest enemies.
And they'll come begging for it, sooner or later, he thought. The situation with the Justice League demands it, especially once they discover there's a spy in their midst.
His mind briefly returned to his "malfunctioning" gizmo from a minute ago. It was actually an all-in-one sensor device of his own design. The random lights were actually a Morse-style code, warning that there were traces of white dwarf star radiation in the vicinity.
The Prion's counterpart is here, somewhere, he'd realized, resisting the urge to look around for where he could be hiding. One of the chandeliers was the most likely place anyway, perfect for spying on the meeting. I'll just let him have some extra rope to hang himself with before "accidentally" discovering him, he decided. That should keep this war from cooling off.
After that, he'd taken in some of the other elements around the room necessary for his plans. Over the earl's shoulder, he'd seen the little green-haired nebbish who'd stuttered throughout the entire presentation, now stumbling through introductions with another of these royal-types, a slip of a girl covered in an explosion of pink and lavender lace.
She'd stood beside her former classmate, the rediscovered Prince Lelouch. The missing prince drew his eye for a moment; this had been the first he'd actually seen the boy in person and, while his military actions were impressive, he didn't seem like anything special. One good punch, and he'd snap like a twig, was his conclusion.
While speaking to Maldini, he'd gushed about the Einstein girl's contribution to the project as he'd made his analysis. His praise had been partially true, although her equations had actually been less than useless where the project's objectives were concerned. He already learned all he needed to know about superpositions, the decoherence factor and other minutia from memorizing Luthor's files long ago, and was perfectly capable of building upon it by himself.
What Nina had excelled in was plugging holes in the development of his new weapon. An understanding of particle physics was one thing, but the actual production of nuclear reactions, and in conjunction with Sakuradite and its unique properties so less, was laughable on this world. There'd been no Second World War here, not as he'd known it, which meant no Manhattan Project. And in answer to the Arab nations' monopoly over petroleum, Britannia had switched to solar power and geothermal resources for cheap energy. So, to get his hands on someone with working knowledge of both Sakuradite and nuclear power, he'd falsified some results and made a report utilizing some plausible-sounding gibberish which necessitated that Schneizel go look for one.
He'd been surprised when the nervy teenaged girl had been introduced as their savior, but it turned out he couldn't have asked for a better pawn. Between fear of disappointing her friend and letting everyone down, and concentrating on her work to get over her close proximity with a great big scary Number, Nina had turned out to be everything he needed, and never once suspected her contribution should have meant nothing to facilitating teleportation.
As such, he'd drawn up in his mind a rather impressive doomsday device. And while Sakuradite didn't have quite the same pop as the quantum trigger, the resultant effect would get the job done. It just needed a little more tinkering so its effects would reach global proportions. And as for building the damn thing, well, oversight would backpedal to keep weapons development brisk as the war escalated.
Do what you will, Black Prince. Once the Justice League make themselves known, I'll have all the materials and manpower I can ask for to make Project Nidhögg a reality.
The thought of the oncoming war reminded him of the day he and his "colleagues" had presented their findings to their sponsor and his resultant performance there. As ever, he rebuked himself at the memory of his feigned breakdown; he'd meant to just to set up a public persona that would deflect suspicion if matters turned hot. But instead…
You let your mask slip… unprofessional, a part of him snarled. Being told that you're nothing isn't likely to ingratiate oneself, especially not with these Britannians. It was something he'd known better than to do since then.
As it stood, he'd felt mildly anxious that he stepped over a line, and that the Chancellor would have him disposed of. That would necessitate faking his death and starting all over again in China or Europe. He was quite relieved when, obviously under his master's orders, Earl Maldini had palmed him a note, alerting him to a date arranged at a high-class whorehouse, one the aristocrats kept reserved for themselves, which he'd learned of while researching Pendragon.
They'd even been expecting me.
He'd smiled when he realized that. It had proven that he totally had the wool pulled over the prince's eyes, that Schneizel was convinced that he was just a scientist who could only see the downside of their work.
Also, it didn't hurt that, frankly, it had been awhile.
Not that any of them could hold a candle to some of his former paramours, of course. Their best wasn't worthy to kiss the ground She-Bat flew over, he thought.
Thinking of bats brought to mind what should have been his magnum opus over reality, the truly final act, only to be thwarted. His Justice League equivalent had engaged him in a protracted fight, which turned out to be a ruse to nick his phase oscillation pistol. He'd then been exiled to an Earth perpetually frozen, either by an overextended Ice Age or nuclear winter. Either way, a dead world fit to dispose of a planet-destroying über-bomb like the Quantum Eigenstate Device that was transported along with him. With the interference he'd set up still blocking Earth-Prime from further visits, not without whatever extremes Batman had been able to arrange in such a short time, he'd decided to simply accept the inevitable and die. He hadn't even bothered to kick the phase oscillator away from where it lay by his feet lest he be tempted.
Or that had been the intention, at least.
For whatever reason, the Q.E.D. had let loose a short electromagnetic discharge just before it detonated. Perhaps it was due to a minor error in its construction (thank you so damn much, Johnny Quick). Maybe it was just part of its operation that simulations hadn't foreseen as, needless to say, they'd never bothered to test-fire it. Either way, it had been enough to kick start the phase oscillator, activating it right before "ice-world" was obliterated.
He'd been plunged into Hell, whether because the device hadn't been properly calibrated or because he was riding the periphery of a quantum fusion explosion, he could never tell nor was in any rush to find out. Either way, he'd been thrown into the between-realms of the multiverse. He was there for an eternity, more than enough time to go mad and return to sanity a thousand times. He was there for not even a second, barely enough time for him to notice the change. Both, and many more, as if experiencing every variation of being trapped between worlds all at once. And when it was over, he'd been spat out onto this Earth at the other end of all probability.
A world where super-powered beings were nonexistent, purely the stuff of myth and folklore. A history where the American Revolution had failed, and the British empire had grown into a worldwide totalitarian state. A universe where Earth that had gone unnoticed by even the most diligent of extraterrestrial powers, even its own neighbor, Mars. It had been difficult, but in time he'd acclimated to the change.
From then on he'd had no time for rest and relaxation. Finding a lowly wage-slave with no past, working in just the right place that a diamond in the rough could be noticed by the right royalty. Murdering him and assuming his life. Manipulating the professors so they would turn on each other once his work was discovered. Talking the prince into sponsoring his experiments. All that hard work and more, so that soon the only action that could make any difference would finally be achieved.
That, and a little bit of revenge, he thought sardonically.
Calculating the quantum frequency to transfer from his home universe to another and back was tricky enough. Now that he was making it from an entirely different reality, it was doubly so. He'd been unable to relocate the world of the Justice League that had defeated him, but the one he had found was a close match. Close enough to give him a measure of satisfaction, and certainly close enough to pose a challenge to the Britannians. One strong enough to necessitate the frenzied war footing he required.
And why was he afforded this? For nothing he had done that he could tell. Some would have been poetic and called it the will of God, evidence that his intentions had some divine backing. He, of course, viewed it as just a coincidence. Dumb luck. Happenstance. Chaos theory at work.
In short, further proof, as if any need be, that causality was a crapshoot, the universe arbitrary and illogical, and life inconsequential, he thought spitefully. If anything, the total randomness of the event, occurring without any move by himself in any direction, made the multiverse even more chaotic than he'd previously imagined.
He once thought his time for moments of clarity had ended after his mother and his brother Bruce had died in a scum-ridden alley, gunned down by a thuggish cop with no inclination to serve and protect others. While his father threw away his life trying to cleanse the justice system of its apathy and corruption, he'd sought a much different path whereby he would rule crime, and punish all who sought to create some illusion of law and order.
It had been motivated by a perceived belief that anyone could affect the world, just that most chose not to, a statistic he no longer wished to be a part of. With the rise of the Crime Syndicate, he thought he'd done it, that he had made a difference and changed the world. He'd shown everyone that the only golden rule was that those with the gold made the rules. He couldn't imagine himself being anywhere else or doing anything else than where he was and what he was doing alongside the Syndicators.
Then it all came crashing down.
First, he found Luthor's files, like an ominous note in a horror movie right as someone walked into a room they shouldn't have. The reality of, well, reality had been maddening enough, but at first it was just there on an intellectual level. Then the Justice League had appeared, and he'd met his opposite number, the same outrage and injustice he'd once felt channeled into a war against crime and corruption. In him he saw the entire struggle of his life and all of his accomplishments counterbalanced by the alternate options.
That had been the clincher that the only assurance in life was that it was impossible to make a difference. Anything he did, even his very existence, was matched by an equal but opposite effect on some other world, however distant. It was impossible to change the universe, to do something that could not be countered somewhere else, even in destroying it. So the only thing to do that would make a change was to destroy all universes.
And to do that required the FENRIR, his so-called trans-dimensional barrier device. To lay the groundwork for that he needed to request a meeting with Prince Schneizel. A request that Earl Maldini was responding to, apologetically saying that he couldn't give any definite assurances about his master's schedule.
I've been patient this far, I can wait a bit more, he thought before speaking aloud. "You needn't apologize, My Lord. After all, you know what words I live by:
"It doesn't matter," said the Owlman.
Disclaimer: Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. Young Justice is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner.