Cape Canaveral
May 23rd, 2016 - Team Year 6 (Bart's Timeline) 20:57 EDT
The second her hand slipped on the wrench, Carol Ferris knew there was going to be a problem. That realization came an instant before the splitting pain of her thumb slicing over an edge of exposed metal, and the wrench landing on the floor with a metal clang. Cursing a blue streak that would have surprised all but her closest co-workers, she reached down to pick up the traitorous tool.
To outsiders, seeing the Vice President of Ferris Aircraft in greasy coveralls with her hair pulled back into a messy bun would have come as a shock. It was private persona that Carol kept mostly to herself. The public was better served seeing her as the little girl who rode daddy's coattails up the ranks in the company. It helped their competitors underestimate her.
Since her father had dashed her dreams of becoming a pilot as a little girl, she had found her calling in working on machines. Any machines. And that's why she was here, long after her other mechanics went home, tinkering on a new engine prototype.
Carol hissed as she quickly sprayed an antiseptic on her finger and wrapped a small bandage around it. It would be fine, wouldn't even need stitches. She breathed deeply, clenching her hand into a fist. The smell of metal and grease filled her nostrils. It put her at ease. It was a smell that Hal said he always loved on her when she came home.
Hal. The thought of him flashed through her mind. Carol hadn't seen him in months. He'd been stationed on Oa, and since the Reach had publicly announced their presence and the United Nations had agreed to their stay, he wouldn't be coming back. Some bullshit about a treaty or something. He had only gotten to say goodbye in a short video message, then nothing.
An alert flashed on her computer screen across the room. Its red pulse cut through the dim, artificial lighting of the hanger. Curious, Carol walked over. She wiped a hand across her forehead, ignoring the greasy residue left behind and strands of ebony hair that trailed after her touch. Quickly tapping a few keys, the source of the alert popped up on her screen.
Carol inhaled sharply. The image was from a long range satellite that observed the outer reaches of the solar system. A cold ball of fear solidified like ice in her stomach as the image grew larger. Carol reached her hand over to a red phone nearby. Her hand was shaking. She swore and balled it into a tight fist to settle it. Grabbing the receiver, she typed in the secret combination, the one only to be used for emergencies. This definitely constituted an emergency.
Carol heard a click on the other end as the call was answered. Before whatever unfortunate bastard who was answering the call even got a chance to speak, she cut in.
"We've got a problem."
XXXXX
The Watchtower
May 23rd, 2016 - Team Year 6 (Bart's Timeline) 21:30 EDT
Dick Grayson took a deep breath, letting the rich aroma of vapors from the mug in his hands fill his nostrils. He took another sip of the bitter liquid and winced softly. Normally, he would have drowned his coffee in milk, not only to mellow the taste but to down it in one gulp. At this moment however, this ungodly hour, he needed the elixir to wake him up. The bitterness helped.
Dick kept his peripheral vision on the satellite image of the planetoid that was growing larger by the moment. In front of him, he typed in a set of coordinates on to a holographic keypad and silently prayed he wasn't violating any intergalactic laws. Not that it'd be the first time. Or probably the last.
The screen in front of him wavered for a second and then the image of a man appeared. Dick recognized him instantly: the lean build, the black and white costume, the blocky green mask with dark bangs forever falling down over it.
"Dick Grayson. As I live and breath." The hint of a laugh carried, even from halfway across the galaxy.
"Kyle Rayner. Good to see a friendly face." Dick tried to fake a smile in return. Even without seeing it, he knew it was weak. He moved the coffee mug up to cover it, but it was too late. Kyle's smile faltered.
"What's going on, Dick?" The Lantern asked, his voice sounding worried, eyes shifting to a point out of Dick's line of sight. "We're going to have to keep this short. You know we're not really supposed to have any contact with you. Not since..."
"I know," Dick interrupted, setting his mug down with a sigh. "I wouldn't have risked it, but this is important Kyle. I had to take the risk of possibly bending some rules." An incredulous snort came from the hologram in front of him. Okay, maybe possibly wasn't the correct term. Definitely was probably more appropriate. And bending was putting it lightly. "I'm sending you an image now. It's from one of our long-range satellites. We need to know what it is."
With a wave of his hand, Dick moved the image of the planetoid over next to Kyle's. The Green Lantern's eyes narrowed behind his mask for a moment as he leaned in to study the image, then widened as he sat back sharply. Turning away for a moment, Dick could hear the rapid typing of gloved fingers on a keyboard coming over the transmission.
"Sounds like you know what this thing is?" Dick asked, already not liking what Kyle's reaction implied. And he didn't like Kyle's silence even more. He kept one eye on the planetoid now passing Saturn as the Green Lantern reappeared.
"I'd only heard rumors, but it appears the Guardians have been keeping tabs on it for a few years now." Kyle's eyes darted over to the side as he continued speaking. "According to our databases, it's called the Warworld. Massive artificial satellite, just under three thousand kilometers in diameter."
"That can't be right. That puts the thing, this Warworld, at…" Dick trailed off, shifting around numbers in his head. "At…just under the size of our moon?"
"Yeah…that's about right..." There was some more typing on the other end before the man continued. "This thing? It's a mobile doomsday weapon, Dick."
"With a name like 'Warworld' that doesn't exactly come as a shock, Kyle."
"It gets worse," Kyle said, his voice somewhere between apology and panic.
"Define worse?"
"A now extinct alien race created it over a millennia ago. Powers itself, sustains itself. It's got drones on the inside that repair it and kill anything that manages to get on board."
Dick blinked slowly. Worse was an understatement. "That... sounds ridiculously overpowered. Like kids would be screaming god mode if that turned up in a video game."
A short laugh emerged from the floating image in front of him. "Dick Grayson, a gamer? Now that's something I'd have to see." Rayner typed in a few more keystrokes before turning back. "This thing is the Death Star's meaner, older brother, Dick."
"So who's running it now?"
"Looks like the Warworld is controlled by someone named 'Mongul.' He found a... I don't know, a 'crystal key?' That's the closest translation I can find. Anyway, this key, everyone thought was lost centuries ago."
"Mongul? Never heard of him."
"I hadn't either," Kyle agreed, his fingers continuing to tap over the keys. "The Guardian database says was the dictator on his home planet. Ousted by another dictator, as is wont to happen. Now he wants to reclaim his spot as top dog."
"Great, sounds like your typical galactic super villain. So what does all that have to do with Earth?"
"Well, that's where things get kinda confusing. Mongul seems to think that if he conquers the entire galaxy, he'll show he's worthy of oppressing his own world again. Why he doesn't just show up there with the Warworld is beyond me... but yeah. I'm guessing he thinks Earth is now a threat to his galaxy-wide domination. Somehow. I'm not really clear on the motivation."
Dick blinked his eyes for a second, trying to take it all in. "That is, by far, one of the most convoluted plans I have ever heard."
"Yup. I hoping I was getting something messed up in translation, but…"
Looking at the image of this Warworld again, Dick crossed his arms. His brain felt fried. This was literally the last thing they needed right now. He brought his hands up, scrubbing them over his eyes, trying not to let out the heavy sigh that was caught in his chest. "So how do we stop it?" he asked. "You called it a Death Star. Trench run? Shoot a missile down an exposed exhaust port?"
"Nothing quite so simple, unfortunately. The Warworld is controlled mentally, by whoever is sitting at the helm. It basically allows Mongul to control everything using only his mind. So to stop it, you'd have to get on board, and either take out the power core, remove the crystal key, or take out Mongul himself."
Dick's sigh morphed into a bitter laugh. "You make it sound so easy."
Kyle just shrugged. "You'd better hurry, whatever you do. The Warworld has enough firepower to destroy Earth a few times over."
"Thanks, Kyle. That image was incredibly helpful." Dick reached a hand over to switch off the image of the approaching weapon. At least now he knew what they were dealing with. "Any chance you can send over everything the Guardians have on the Warworld? Schematics, possible weak points, anything?"
"It'll have to be encrypted. If we get caught doing this…" Kyle trailed off with a shrug.
"I know, I know, treaties broken. Intergalactic war. Not like I'm not already dealing with enough."
"You'll be able to handle the code. Dick?" There was a pause, and Kyle cleared his throat carefully. When he spoke again, there was a definite change. "Dick… how's Zatanna?"
Dick allowed the corner of his mouth to curl into a smile. "She's doing okay, Kyle," he assured.
"Yeah?" Dick could hear the worry, the hint of pain, in Kyle's voice.
"Yeah. She's pretty tough, you know."
"Oh trust me," Kyle smiled, "I know. Sometimes that's what I worry about." There was a pause as both of their thoughts tangled around the dark haired magician. A soft beeping coming from Kyle's end of the call shook them both out of their memories.
"We have to cut this call," Kyle announced. "I'll send you the files."
"Thank you," Dick replied, not sure he could fit enough gratitude into his words. He was about to drop the line when Kyle stopped him.
"Grayson?" He called, rushing his words together. "I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, but if you can, take care of her, okay?" The call was cut from Kyle's end before Dick could form a response. The screen went dark, leaving him alone with his thoughts on the deck of the Watchtower.
Nothing like having the fate of the entire world literally resting in your hands. Again.
XXXXX
The Warworld
May 26th, 2016 - Team Year 6 (Bart's Timeline) 12:00 UTC
Whenever someone gets ready to save the world in the movies, it was always much more glamorous than this. There were moving speeches. Long walks down a runway to the adoration of cheering crowds. Kickass fighter jets. At the very least they had the room to move without bumping into someone else at every turn.
Cassie Sandsmark had none of those things at the moment.
Calling the hold of the bioship cramped was a massive understatement. Wonder Woman's Lasso of Truth gave you more room to move than she currently had. And Cassie would know. Diana had used it on her once when she'd snuck out of her apartment instead of finishing her homework.
Nine people and one living computer were crammed into the alien ship. Nightwing was their chauffeur for the evening. Apparently no one could ride up front with him because "they all had to be ready to go at a moment's notice." She would have doubted the explanation if the Boy Wonder's main squeeze wasn't back here with them.
Batgirl was crouched against the wall closest to the door, her holographic computer already up. Her fingers moved with near-superhuman speed. Cassie could punch through walls but the sorcery that girl could perform with a computer was beyond her comprehension. It was hard enough to remember her password to the computers on the Watchtower. Wond3rWoman1sAw3som3... no, that was last week's. Rob1n1sATotalBa...
"Attention Warworld. This is Black Canary of the Justice League, representing the Planet Earth." Oh thank Hera, thought Cassie as Black Canary's voice came through her earpiece. That was about to get embarrassing. "We wish to open negotiations."
"But I am uninterested in negotiation." The voice, low and deep, came rumbling through their collective comm channel. Everyone looked around. Except Batgirl. Her blue eyes remained laser focused on her screen. That voice must belong to the big bad they'd all been told about, the 'Mongul'. He sounded like he was getting over something.
"The Earth under the Reach's thumb is too dangerous for my long term plans."
Most convoluted long term plans ever...
"It must be destroyed."
Rude.
"And frankly, if you understood what you were in for with the Reach, you'd thank me for putting you out of your collective misery."
Even Batgirl stopped what she was doing and looked up at that line. So did everyone else. Their eyes all said the same thing: what in the depths of Hades did that mean?
"Doctor, that'd be your cue." Even though the bioship didn't have any windows back here, Cassie could almost see what was happening in her mind. They'd gone over the plan dozens of times. Doctor Fate would block any early attack by the big laser gun the Warworld had, hopefully redirecting it back.
And on cue, she felt a rumble through her shoes. Direct hit. Now, the next part of the plan focused on Batgirl bypassing security and...
The door to the bioship opened. This whole "think it and it happens" thing was getting good. Now if Mongul would just surrender...
Nothing. Oh well, it was worth a shot. Past the door was a massive hanger. The inside of the Warworld.
"Move out. Break into squads and get to your objectives." Batgirl's voice filled both the hold and her ear. Cassie cracked her knuckles as she stepped onto the alien spacecraft. Time to go make big ugly even uglier.
XXXXX
"All squads clear. Good luck, Delta." Dick Grayson smiled softly as he heard Barbara's voice crackle into his ear. He wasn't sure who had the more dangerous mission: the squads racing through a massive alien death moon that would do everything it could to kill them like a body destroying a virus, or him, facing what might be the longest odds in space battle history.
"You too, Gamma. Give them hell." Dick pressed a button to close the door to the bioship's hold, disconnecting from the station. Stay safe, beautiful.
"Delta to Watchtower. Batgirl successfully bypassed the Warworld's security systems. The squads are aboard. No sign of detection."
"Roger that, Delta. See what you can do about giving Rocket and Doctor Fate some cover." Dick could almost picture Black Canary leaning over the multiple holographic computer screens, trying to keep everything in order. This wasn't her strength, but the interim leader of the Justice League was doing an admirable job of juggling everything. It was up to him to help make sure nothing got dropped.
"Will do, Watchtower." Keeping the bioship in camouflage mode, Dick brought the alien ship around, pointing back towards the Warworld. The flashes of light streaming towards the miniscule point near Earth where Rocket was protecting Doctor Fate would have been beautiful if Dick hadn't known they were also very, very deadly. He took a steadying breath to try and calm his racing heart.
This had been the weak point in their entire plan. With their recent losses and Superman off world, the League lacked the members who could operate in space. That left Dick and the bioship as the only source of distraction for the Warworld.
It was like a mosquito trying to sting an elephant to death.
Dick typed a quick combination into his wrist computer. Up popped a picture of Barbara and him from their first mission together as Batgirl and Robin. The redhead had her arm wrapped around his neck, bemusedly looking at the camera for the selfie as Dick smiled broadly.
He left the picture up as he dove in towards the Warworld, lasers flashing.
XXXXX
It had been a long time since Wally West had been jogging. Normally, if he was running, it was to get from one point to another as quickly as possible. But as much as he wanted to super speed it down to the crystal key chamber, that would mean leaving M'gann and his girlfriend... ahem, fiancé, behind. And he wasn't about to do that.
So far the plan was working to perfection. Whatever computer voodoo Barbara had pulled had been successful in keeping them unnoticed. And the schematics that Green Lantern Kyle Rayner had smuggled out of Oa had been on the money. At least for their part, this mission was looking easy. Invade the War World, get to the crystal key chamber, snag the key, shut this party down. Almost too easy.
As the three of them rounded a corner, a train looking device riding a track along the ceiling approached. Wally skidded to a stop. "Uh, hide?" That was a pretty useless suggestion, even he had to admit. The hallway was narrow, without doors or intersecting passageways. He would have traded his super speed for M'gann's invisibility at that moment.
Wally watched as the Martian disappeared. He pressed his scarlet-clad body against the slate colored wall, smirking internally as Artemis attempted to do the same. But between her green outfit and pale skin, she stuck out just as much as he did. Maybe if he closed his eyes, the train would just pass on by. If he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him, right?
Shutting his emerald eyes tightly, Wally sucked in a breath and held it. If he had ever wished to have inherited his uncle's ability to vibrate through walls and not spout massive nosebleed, this was that moment.
He could hear the train moving towards them, above them, past them. And then the machine stopped. Wally opened one eye, glancing up at it and then across the hallway at Artemis.
"Do you think they saw us?" His half-whispered question was answered by the doors on the train opening, diamond-shaped drones pouring out of the sides. Lasers shot from the drones, one striking where Artemis' head had been just a half second before.
"I'd say that's a yes!" Artemis rolled to a crouch, already drawing her bow back, launching arrows at the oncoming drones. Wally keyed his radio.
"Watchtower, they found us."
XXXXX
There it was. The power core. The beating heart of this entire battle station. A marvel of engineering and alien techno...
Barbara's thought process stopped as a laser from a drone flashed inches away from her head. An acrid smell filled her nostrils as the beam passed close enough to singe some hair.
Admire later, Babs. Fight now. She keyed her radio. "Gamma to Watchtower. We've reached the power core. But we've got some company ourselves." Barbara leapt out of Sphere, legs splaying to absorb the impact as her boots hit the cold metal of the Warworld. The alien ship spun, spraying laser fire of its own back at the diamond-shaped drones filling the corridor behind them.
Pushing away from her landing spot as another shot from a drone burned a hole in her cape, Barbara raced toward the humming amber behemoth in front of her. She could hear Tim's feet slapping the floor behind hers over the pitched cacophony of lasers flashing back and forth between Sphere and the drones.
She slid up against the base of the power core, pulling out a batarang and prying a panel away from its metal housing. Barbara was greeted with a mass of wires and inputs. Her teeth dug into her lip as her blue eyes traced over the alien electronics. All of this was foreign to her, but she found a jack and pulled a wire from her wrist computer. This would either work, or she'd get a strong jolt for her trouble. Probably fatal. She frowned at the traitorous voice in her head. Strong is fine, thank you.
Taking a breath, she plunged the wire from her wrist computer into the port and waited for the pain. None came. Heaving a sigh of relief, she brought up the holographic screen and was amazed to see diagnostic data flowing across it. Narrowing her gaze, she started to pick up on patterns in the mass of information flowing across her screen.
And then a laser impacting the power core's base just to her left brought her out of that concentration. "Robin, cover me!" Her fingers began typing frantically on the holographic screen. They didn't have a lot of time.
"What do you want me to do? Throw birdarangs at them?"
"Figure it out!" Barbara knew her reply was probably too harsh, but if she couldn't take down the power core, she had no doubt that she and all her friends would be dead very soon.
Finishing a long command, the redhead punched the Enter key. Movement above her caught her eye. She saw a piece of the power core shift, instructed by her command. That command should cut off power to a portion of the station's outside weapons, if she had figured correctly. But then another section of pure energy snaked around the piece of the core she manipulated, rerouting that energy. Barbara swore.
"What is it?"
"The power core, it's blocking my moves." She typed in another command, only to watch as the power core blocked that as well. "This is turning into a massive game of chess."
"We don't have time for that!" Tim swung his bo staff, blocking an incoming laser blast. Barbara could already see the scorch marks growing in number and intensity on Sphere's metallic body. She didn't answer Tim, but got back to typing as fast as her fingers would fly.
XXXXX
This... was not going well. And Roy Harper had pretty high standards for things not going well. Being cryogenically frozen for eight years will do that to you. But as he watched Mongul plant an elbow into Wonder Girl's face while holding Superboy by the throat and not break a sweat, Roy figured things were pretty bad.
The alien, unknown race, so Roy was just going to go with Ugly from planet No Mirrors, had already walked through his conventional ordinance. While Roy was still learning all the things his surgically attached shiny new death dealer could do, he knew that he'd have to resort to some unconventional methods.
Loading up a foam bolt into his arm, which still sounded ridiculous when he said it, even in his own head, Arsenal took aim at Big Ugly and fired. The shot hit him right in the chest, same as the last one, but this bolt expanded in a high-density foam that covered the alien. A slight smile crossed Roy's face as he watched Connor begin pummeling Mongul. One, two, three punches to the face... and then the big alien threw the clone into the floor. Superboy bounced in a way that people weren't supposed to. Big meaty fists came crashing down on the foam and it shattered. Roy felt the blood drain from his face as Mongul turned towards him.
And then Wolf was on the alien. Genetically modified from a normal wolf, Roy had seen the animal's jaws break through armor. But when it bit into Mongul, the big bad didn't even flinch. Pulling Wolf off like he was a stray hair, Mongul held the mutt for a moment, muttering something about the "novelty of this encounter" before tossing the animal into Wonder Girl. Both crashed to the floor and did not move.
"Nap time, ugly." Conventional explosives hadn't worked. Unconventional methods like foam hadn't worked. Maybe gas would. The bolt filled with knockout gas streaked toward the alien, but he caught it before it hit him in the face. Not that it mattered. A gray smoke filled the area around Mongul. Any second the big alien would come crashing down to the floor face first. Not that it would mess up his ugly mug any more than it already was. Seriously, that guy should consider some plastic surgery or something.
But he never fell. As the smoke cleared, the big alien just took an even deeper breath and smiled in a way that chilled Roy's insides faster than any cyrochamber.
"Ah. I like that. It smells like victory." Roy had always imagined victory smelling like alcohol and a woman's naked body, not knock-out gas, but to each their own. But then Mongul started towards him, and Roy knew he was in trouble.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Roy simply reacted on instinct, not really strategizing at this point, hands grasping for the launcher strapped to his back. Maybe bigger was going to be better. But Mongul was faster than he anticipated. He wasn't going to get the launcher loaded in time.
But then Superboy was back on his feet, sending his body flying into Mongul's side. Roy continued to frantically load the launcher as the big alien grabbed the Kryptonian, stretched him out, and brought his back down over his knee with enough force that Roy was sure Superman, wherever he was in the galaxy, felt the blow dealt to his clone.
And then Mongul's attention was turned back to him. Roy brought up the launcher, closed his eye to aim. Not that he needed to, the alien was so close he couldn't miss. BAD IDEA BUS, his brain yelled as his finger instinctively pulled the trigger.
The force of the explosion sent Roy flying backwards, bouncing off the ground much in the same way he'd seen Connor do earlier. His eyes wavered from his destroyed launcher to the big alien as his battered body skidded to a stop. Mongul was backlit by the viewports overlooking Earth, and the steady stream of laser fire directed at Doctor Fate.
Roy's vision clouded and darkness nipped at the edges as Mongul returned to his chair, mentioning something about "mercy". Nothing he was saying made sense to Roy, nothing could cut through the fuzziness invading his brain.
But before the darkness claimed him, Roy saw the lasers stop and missiles begin racing towards Earth. Dozens of them. Hundreds of them. His eyes closed to a final thought.
This is not good.
XXXXX
Dick Grayson had always figured he'd go out in a blaze of glory. From an early age, watching his family perform dangerous feats in the air without a net, there was always the possibility that your hand would slip, that your foot would catch, and you'd fall to your death. After his parents were murdered, and Bruce had taken him in, Dick had figured that there would come a day where the Earth would need saving and he'd be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good.
It looked like today was that day.
Missiles poured from the Warworld like hornets from a disturbed hive. Even as Dick dove at the initial wave, laser on the bioship flashing magenta as he went, there was a little voice in the back of his mind that started to grow louder. It's not going to be enough. It will never be enough. You're going to have to crash into a missile to save a city, to save millions. And that'll be the end of Dick Grayson.
He shook his head to dispel the traitorous voice, jamming his thumbs down on the firing controls as fast as they would move. Missile after missile disappeared under his onslaught. But for every missile destroyed, it seemed another four or five death rockets replaced it.
The glowing golden shield projected by Dr. Fate almost seemed to suck in the missiles that got by him. And a lot were getting by him. Without him even asking, the bioship flashed numbers on a screen to his right. Dick's mouth pulled into a tight line.
"Watchtower, this is Delta. Between myself and Dr. Fate, we're only eliminating fifty-two percent of the Warwold's attack. That's... that's not going to cut it. Is there anything you can do?"
"No weapons, Delta." Dinah's voice was as terse and strained as he'd ever heard it.
"Nothing Batman hid from me?"
"Nothing. Every missile defense system in the hemisphere has mobilized, but that's not going to do much. Maybe another ten, fifteen percent?"
"That's still a third of the missiles getting through. There has to be another solution... there has to be..." Dick pulled the bioship into a tight turn, the beginnings of a plan forming in his head. Get behind the missiles, pick off as many as he could. Find the one heading for the largest population center and...
That'll be the end of Dick Grayson.
He wiped a gloved hand across his forehead, ignoring whatever leftover memory of the Joker had taken up residence inside his brain. "Bioship, prepare a transmission to the Watchtower. Text: Activate Little Robin. End message. Prepare to send on my signal." A green light flashed from the ship, acknowledging the message.
At least he wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to the person who mattered the most to him.
Swinging the bioship in behind the missiles, Dick continued to fire. The explosions got closer each time, rocking the alien spacecraft. Soon he was almost sure that he could feel the wash from the missiles' engines before they exploded near him. A warning light flashed above him; low energy reserves for the lasers. The end of the line.
"Bioship, find the missile on course for the largest population center and highlight it for me. We're going to save some people."
"Nightwing..."
"Not now, Canary. I'm doing what I have to do."
"Dick, listen to me." The use of his actual name over the comm channel broke him from his pseudo-suicidal run. "We've got new contacts up here." Dick's eyes closed heavily. Blaze of glory was becoming all too apt a phrase.
"Are they approaching from the Warworld?" His mind started to race with possible scenarios. Could he stop these new contacts and still stop that missile? Would he have to leave the Watchtower, or Fate, to fend for themselves and continue after the missile?
"No..." The voice of the League's leader trailed off and Dick could almost imagine her hunched over a screen in concentration. "They're coming from Earth. Origin point is the Philippine Sea. They're..." Black Canary's voice caught in her throat. "They're Reach ships. It's an entire fleet."
A Reach fleet? Here, on Earth? Dick's head started spinning even faster than it had just moments before. The Reach said they had come with only one ship, a now permanent fixture above the United Nations building in New York City. But dots began to materialize in the atmosphere below him, and those dots quickly focused themselves into the distinctive shape of Reach ships.
A quivering hand hovered over the button to activate the bioship's cloaking for a moment, but Dick thought better of it. The ships would have already seen him by now, and their technology would probably be able to track him even if the ship was invisible. Low energy reserves, two numerically superior forces; talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
His blue eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Bioship, send signal. Little Robin is active." The expected feeling of lead in his stomach never materialized. It was like his body accepted that this was the end. There was no more that he could do.
The bioship's energy readings glowed a fiery ruby before him. Not much left, but Dick was determined to make whatever shots he had left count. He dove in behind the missiles, eyes focused on the fleet. Pale yellow lasers shot towards him from mandibles the Reach had claimed were "unarmed". Another lie the League would have to make them pay for.
But even as Dick tensed himself for a blinding flash of pain, the lasers never reached him. Instead they impacted the missiles, creating mini-supernovas that flashed brilliantly before fading into darkness. The assault took its toll, but it wasn't enough. The ships were approaching too fast, they'd never get all the missiles in time...
That's when the strategy of the Reach ship captains became clear to Dick. That moment of clarity happened an instant before the first ship slammed into an oncoming missile, the fireball enveloping both alien craft. This was a suicide mission! The Reach ships were doing exactly what he had planned to do himself, but on a larger scale. Ship after ship raced towards the missiles, firing until they impacted, explosions consuming everything around them.
And just as suddenly as the firing started, it stopped. The space in front of him was clear of the Warworld's missiles. There were still Reach ships, but significantly fewer than before. A readout from the bioship estimated that eighty percent of the Reach fleet had been destroyed. And Dick could see that many of the ships that remained sported new damage, blackened metal peeling away from once pristine hulls.
But he was alive. Against impossible odds, he was somehow still among the living. "Bioship, cancel transmission." Dick pulled the bioship in a slow turn back towards the Warworld, trying to slow his frantic heart rate.
XXXXX
Timothy Drake was good at a lot of things. Hacking computers. Coming up with strategies. Being awkward around girls. Those were all things he was good at.
Dodging laser blasts from a seemingly inexhaustible number of drones was not something he was good at. It was a fact that he was reminded of again as another searing blast of pain rocked his body and smoke rose from a small hole in the leg of his uniform. It joined a growing number of other holes, alike in size and painfulness.
But then again, he wasn't really supposed to be dodging those lasers. He wasn't supposed to be trying to get hit, per se, but his job was to prevent Barbara from getting hit. If that meant taking a few extra shots from those admittedly painful though not yet lethal lasers, then that was something he was willing to do. You know, for the good of the mission and all that.
The multitude, volume, and creativity of the swear words coming from behind him told Tim that the mission was not going well at all. He held massive respect for Barbara Gordon's hacking abilities. On his best day, he could only hope to keep pace with her. But maybe, just maybe, the task of hacking into a massive alien death moon with zero preparation time was too much even for her vaunted skills.
Another curse sounded off behind him, and Tim caught a glimpse of amber light shooting through what had been an empty space around the power core. What he wouldn't give for a proton torpedo and an exhaust port right about now.
"Still blocking you?" Tim ducked just in time as another laser blast went streaking past his head.
"Every time I try to shut down the power to the core, it keeps rerouting it." The frustration was palpable in Barbara's voice. She knew as well as he did that they were running out of time.
Another blast came streaking in, and a quick twirl of his bo staff sent it deflecting off into the floor. Tim froze. Which turned out to be a very bad idea because another laser blast seared his uniform at his bicep, but he didn't even notice the pain. The idea that just jumped into his head overpowered everything else.
"Reroute it somewhere useful!" The words leapt from his mouth in a shout. Barbara turned, her blue eyes quizzical.
"What did you say?"
"The power. If it won't let you shut it down, reroute it someplace it can help us. Overload something important." A mischievous sparkle sprang to Barbara's eyes, and something akin to a cackle escaped her lips. She cracked her knuckles as she turned back to the power core.
"Robin, if Wonder Girl was here right now, I'd tell her to kiss you. You're a genius." Her fingers flew with renewed purpose as Timmy's cheeks burned a crimson that almost matched his uniform.
XXXXX
Opening his eyes was harder than it should have been for Connor Kent. For one, each felt like they were heavier than a school bus full of children. Couple that with the fact that Mongul hit like a mack truck, or a couple of them, and there was nothing more Connor wanted to do than just lay there and go back to sleep. But he had a mission, no matter how painful or how long the odds were.
He forced himself to focus on Mongul's headset, the technology that allowed him to control all of Warworld. Pressing his hands into the cold metal of the floor, Conner began pushing himself to his feet. A small gasp of pain slipped from his lips. That got the big guy's attention.
"Pests." Connor heard the hissed insult as the headset lit up again. Wonder Girl, Wolf, and Arsenal were all getting back to their feet as well, however slowly. But even as the four of them gathered themselves, the walls opened and far too many drones to count came flying out.
They were surrounded.
Just as Connor was preparing himself for what he could only assume would be a very painful and one sided fight, the lines in the walls suddenly changed from an orange to a much brighter yellow. The new light traced its way across the floor towards the chair where Mongul was sitting. Lightning seemed to appear out of thin air, so bright Connor had to shield his eyes. The big alien let out a massive roar, light dimming in the room as the drones clattered to the ground around them.
This is it. Now's our chance! "He's rocked! Take him!"
He sprang at the staggering Mongul, fists connecting with the underside of the alien's chin. Clearing away from any possible retaliation, Connor saw Arsenal and Cassie both hit the big guy with everything they had. A small smile crossed his face.
What's that thing that one character says in the comic Timmy likes? Smash? Yeah. Connor smash. Leaping into the air, Connor cocked a fist back, swinging as hard as he could towards Mongul's face. He felt the blow connect before his eyes registered it had, and he swung again, pummeling the alien. Mongul staggered backward, legs jelly, before his red eyes rolled up into his head. His body crashed into the deck with enough force that Connor was sure he'd tilted the station.
"Wonder Girl, now!" Connor watched Cassie tie up the big alien with her lasso, and saw the lights fade for good from the deck. Another smile blossomed on his face, this one larger than before.
"Delta to all teams," Dick's voice rose in his ear. "Surface weapons just stopped firing. Warworld looks quiet. Is it over?"
"Mongul is down and contained." Connor didn't even work to hide the joy in his voice. They'd actually done it. They'd won. "Gamma, his own machines stung him. Your handiwork?"
"If anyone's going to go all 'Independence Day' on an alien death moon and make it turn on itself, it's Batgirl." The exuberance was also audible in Timmy's voice, but Connor was sure he heard an underlying pain as well.
"Beta to Watchtower, we have the crystal key." Connor could almost picture M'gann holding the crystal in her hands, Wally and Artemis probably sharing some post-battle embrace. "The Warworld is ours."
When Black Canary responded, she sounded relieved but no less tired than Connor had heard her lately. "Roger that, Beta. Bring it home. We'll find a safe place for it until we decide what to do with the Warworld."
"Team, rendezvous at the hanger bay." Dick Grayson, on the other hand, sounded practically giddy. "We're heading home. This calls for a celebration."
XXXXX
From a dark corner of his own mind, Jamie Reyes watched disaster unfold before him. Disaster for the Reach's plans, their first major setback in their invasion of Earth. Most of their fleet was destroyed, his friends had possession of the Warworld, and the divisions among the Reach team were becoming more and more obvious.
Jaime would have cheered if he had control of his body. He wondered if the scarab felt the same way.
"The meat now control the Warworld, Ambassador." The hulking form of Black Beetle moved closer to the leader of the Reach expedition. "They now know we lied about how many ships we brought. And most of our fleet has been destroyed. This is an unmitigated disaster. I should remove you from your post."
"Careful, warrior…" There was venom in the Ambassador's voice as he glared up at the ebony armored beetle. "This is a setback. But not a fatal one. It merely forces us to accelerate our plans." The green skinned alien spun on his heel to look at the Scientist. "Contact the fleet."
"But Ambassador, the captains are tired," the Scientist's voice stammered, her fingers reaching for the communications button anyway. "What they've just been through…"
"Not the advance fleet, you fool. Get me high command." Jaime watched through his own eyes as the Scientist froze. Even Black Beetle looked slightly taken aback.
Scarab, what is he talking about, Jamie asked. What other fleet?
The main Reach fleet, Jaime Reyes. The fleet that is used to subdue unruly planets. Standard Reach protocol is to avoid using it.
Why do they avoid it? Jamie couldn't understand why a civilization with superior technology would make their goals harder on themselves.
Reach doctrine calls for stealth and subterfuge. Reach histories sing the praises of those Ambassadors who subjugate worlds using deception and guile. The main fleet is a hammer to smash a world, not an artisan's hand to mold it.
So by calling in the main fleet, he's admitting defeat? Jamie felt a swelling pride. The team had forced the Reach into a panicked situation.
He is admitting the end of his career, Jaime Reyes. The Earth shall be the last world the Ambassador will conquer. Pride turned to a cold pit of dread as images of massive, monstrous ships swam into view on the screen in front of them.
But make no mistake about it, Scarab continued. When the fleet gets here, your friends and your planet will die.