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Chapter 3: Look to the Stars

Weeks had passed since his induction to the Blue Lantern Corps and despite his efforts to be a dutiful student, Michael Ryker was learning just how difficult his new position was.

True to his word, Saint Walker had been leading him through how to properly use his ring. The hard training was for his benefit, improving his skills while garnering him new ones. It showed physically, his body being in the best shape it had ever been. Michael resembled an athlete now, the black bodysuit beneath his blue plating conforming to the ridges of shaped muscle that continued to appear in places he didn't think possible. But while the human was quite pleased by his newfound ability to work and act like a Green Lantern, he was discovering that using a power ring required a great deal of discipline and control.

Saint Walker had a Bo staff in hand and Michael held a pair of tonfas held in reverse grip. From his many, many hours in the training circle; a stone pedestal carved into the ground beside a lake, the Astonian was very, very good. Saint Walker took up a straddled stance, his staff held high and close between two hands. Michael kept his low, his twin tonfas held out on either side of him in an open, expectant position. They circled. Both Blue Lanterns were showing signs of sweat from previous efforts. This was play, but a wrong move would be felt.

The bout lasted sixteen minutes; Michael's best time in weeks. What made it more remarkable was the fact that in that time, there was no pause, no hesitation, no cessation. Michael and Saint Walker flew at one another, and rang blows off one another's weapons as tonfas and staffs collided and parried, collided and parried. It was relentless, extraordinary, a dizzying blur of dancing bodies and gleaming blue weapon constructs that rang on and on like a dream.

Still they duelled on. Michael's style was defensive, low, repeating and changing each parry like a mechanism. Saint Walker's style was full of attack, furious, brilliant, dextrous. Saint Walker was an adept martial artist. Like an eastern warrior monk of the Buddhist societies Michael had studied. To Michael's knowledge, Saint Walker had never been bested. At least not by him.

At a glance amid their training, Saint Walker had made a single art of the staff, much to Michael's chagrin as he was consistently laid out on the sparring circle after every duel.

The Astonian's simple Bo staff was a masterpiece of perfect balance and temper. Usually, he fought with it in an alien technique that vaguely reminded Michael of the techniques used by Indian and Japanese professionals. The staff's twin wire-wound handles was unusually long, enabling him to change from a single to a double grip, to spin the staff one-handed and to slide the pressure of his grip back and forth: back for a looping swing, forwards for a taut, focused thrust. Of course it was all blue light and able to be customized at will, but Saint Walker never changed his stance or style and Michael was willing to observe and take notes.

At the fifty-ninth second of the sixteenth minute, Saint Walker scored another winning blow. He hooked his staff behind the guard of Michael's tonfas and wrenched the initiate's constructs out of his grip. They shattered like plates of glass, shards disappearing into thin air as a simple leg sweep tripped the human and landed him flat on his back before finding Saint Walker's staff by his neck.

Michael accepted defeat, head falling back against the stone. "You win again, Brother Walker." He huffed, taking a moment to breathe again.

"And yet I hope you learn something from this defeat, Brother Michael." The Astonian responded, his staff dissipating with a flash of blue light.

"Yeah. Those karate classes from when I was a kid aren't coming in handy." Michael replied, slowly easing himself up onto his elbows. "Your constructs seem to hold together better than mine."

"Mastering your ring requires you to focus your hope, to master that which fills you. Your hope turns thought into reality. The light will help but only so far. The rest is up to you." Saint Walker replied as he offered a hand. Michael accepted it and was promptly hauled to his feet. "The ring's limits are only what you can imagine."

"But I suppose hope as fuel is a fickle thing."

"It can be. But it does not have to be." The Astonian replied. "Your constructs will only be as strong as your hope. The more you hope for them to achieve your goal, the more effective they will be." A four-fingered hand settled on his shoulder. "Do not hesitate even for a single second. If you lose hope in your constructs they will fail you." Patting his shoulder, Saint Walker stepped back with a final word of encouragement. "Your martial technique has greatly improved since we began."

"Thanks. I've been watching as much as trying." Michael responded, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. "Speaking of which, you're really good. I'm surprised the Blues encourage learning the art of combat." He complimented.

"Sometimes giving hope to others means fighting the battles they cannot." Saint Walker responded. "We may not be as forceful as Green Lanterns, but neither are we defenceless." He added. "Your ring is the greatest tool you possess out there. Becoming in tune with it as well as mastering its abilities should be your highest priority."

"Such as creating constructs." Michael surmised.

"And casting protective fields." Saint Walker interjected. "Other functions are more passive and you are already used to them, such as your ring's higher-function knowledge base and universal translator function." Saint Walker described. Michael arched a brow.

"The whatnow?"

"The personal universal translator." Saint Walker repeated. "The ring allows you to hear others speaking in your language so that you can understand them without fail as well as translating your speech into the language of those you are addressing."

"Oh. So none of you speak perfect english."

"Not at all."

"Silly of me to assume that anyway." Michael murmured. "Then… how did Ganthet and Sayd understand me? How did I understand them?" Michael questioned.

"The Guardians have been in existence for many millennia, I'm sure they learned your native tongue at some point." As he spoke, Saint Walker conjured up a series of rings in a sequence that ended with a small blue plate. "Back to the matter at hand. Attempt to break my constructs." He instructed.

Michael took up position so he was in line with the row of rings. He understood the assignment and exhaled slowly, summoning his hope to craft a spear within his outstretched hand. Drawing back he threw it hard, slicing through three of the four rings before it struck the final one and bounced, disappearing with a flash. "Try again." Saint Walker encouraged. Drawing back his hand again, with his ring glowing, Michael swung hard and unleashed a trio of shuriken. Two of them got stuck in the rings while the final one struck the plate at the back before shattering into shards. "Very good. Longevity will improve with focus." Saint Walker applauded. Michael continued his attempts, forging a pair of flintlock pistols as he fired off a pair of replica steel ball rounds. They struck the plate at the far end and cracked it, inspiring him to continue. Snapping up a closed fist, a bolt of blue energy erupted from his ring and passed clean through the hoops before striking the plate and blowing it to pieces. "Excellent work." Saint Walker praised. "Although perhaps slightly cheating."

"Well, I just envisioned a really tiny metal slug encased in light." Michael admitted.

"Hmm, fair enough." The Astonian's light flickered out and his constructs fell apart. Then he took flight, Saint Walker rising well above Michael until he was hovering at the edge of the cliffs above. "Come! Join me!" He called down from above. The human looked up and gauged the distance, his thoughts travelling down to manifest in his ring. Flight was one of the first abilities he had been instructed to master and was relatively easy, largely thanks to his ring.

Thrusting his fist into the air, his body was cloaked in a blue aura as he lifted off and shot into the air. He nearly rocketed past Saint Walker had the Astonian not reached out and grabbed him before he could. "Taking off is easy. Controlling it, not so much."

"You must learn to embrace clarity of thought with the rush of action. Hope to fly but also hope to control that flight." Saint Walker said. He began to move, slowly at first but building up speed as his body achieved a horizontal position. Michael followed, fist out to let his ring guide him as they began to soar over the forest-covered terrain of Odym.

From a distance, Ganthet and Sayd watched from the central battery as two blue contrails streaked across miles of vegetation and wildlife. Michael and Saint Walker flew alongside great flocks of pink-feathered birds, spiralling and diving in tight turns as the Astonian tested the human's maneuverability. "He takes well to his new abilities." Sayd mused.

"As have everyone who has been chosen by the blue to embrace the light of hope." Ganthet added. Sayd cast him a glance.

"Surely you agree that it is welcome to have the presence of a human among us again?" She queried and Ganthet smiled.

"Yes. I would be lying if I said I did not miss the likes of Hal Jordan. His was an open mind, always seeking to learn from me. I earned his trust and he earned my wisdom. For that we both grew to be better." The male Guardian softly replied. A wistful look came over him as his memory drifted to days on Oa. The curiosity of a human being selected to become a Green Lantern. The attentiveness he paid to his training and rise to prominence. The kindness he showed a new recruit seeking guidance and understanding from one who was open to giving it. "I have indeed missed the company of a human." He said at last. "From them can come the most extraordinary corpsmen."

"Like John Stewart. I remember the look on Appa Ali Apsa's face when he discovered his willpower exceeded the limits of his ring." Sayd replied, speaking fondly of the third human Green Lantern.

"Or the look of disdain on Scar's face every time Guy Gardener backtalked to her." Ganthet added with a chuckle.

"Scar always looked like that. She disdains everyone, I think." Sayd responded.

"The point remains; humans are special." Ganthet concluded. "And having one as a Blue Lantern is most certainly a welcome presence."

Of the many members of the Blue Lantern Corps, Michael Ryker had barely met enough to count on one hand. The vast majority of the members were out in the universe, giving hope to the hopeless and bringing light to hundreds of different worlds. Razer he knew, much like he now knew Saint Walker.

So he did not know what to expect when he met Brother Warth.

Warth was one of the largest of the Blue Lanterns and a member of the irrefutably Elephantine Probos species. As he came across his fellow Blue seated in a meditative posture near one of Odym's tranquil lakes, Michael was quick to establish Warth as a large bipedal alien with an Elephant's head, ears, and feet. His long flapping ears were pierced multiple times over and intricate tattoos marked the grey flesh between his eyes and down his trunk. His style of Blue Lantern robes seemed to remind Michael of someplace familiar… either a country he'd visited or researched at some point in his life.

"Welcome, Brother Michael. Come. Find sanctuary." Warth greeted in a voice that seemed, much to Michael's surprise, to possess an Indian accent (something Michael chalked up to his ring either stereotyping or finding the closest possible fit to the tone and inflection of Warth's voice that Michael would be familiar with). He opted not to look too far into it and simply accepted things, familiar in his own right with Hindu culture.

That's it! His uniform looks like a guru. Hang on… did his species visit Earth and inspire Hare Krishna? Maybe even Hinduism altogether?

He kept his thoughts to himself and took a seat on the flat stone ground beside his enormous fellow corpsman, crossing his legs as he did. "Thank you, Brother Warth. Brother Walker told me you were here on Odym and that I should visit you." He replied.

"It is always a pleasure to meet new members of the Corps." Warth replied. Lifting off the ground, The Probosian hovered in place as he turned to face Michael, revealing his arms and legs positioned in a classical yoga posture. The human scooted around to be polite and face him as Warth sat back down. "Now… you are here because you seek to master your hope." Surprised by his comments, revealing exactly his reasoning for being here, Michael was briefly taken aback.

"You are incredibly insightful, Brother Warth." He answered quietly. "But, uh, yes. That's why I came to you. I know that hope is what we use… I just need to figure out how to use it."

"You wish to firm up your constructs. You want to be more sure of your power." Warth surmised and Michael nodded. "First, you must become one with yourself. Your journey to this moment has not been an easy one. You have lost much."

"I know. But I'd… I'd like to think I'm accepting that." Said Michael.

"It is good of you to embrace the change, even though your life may feel empty." Warth continued. "But hope can help you with that. Hope can lead you to a state of fulfillment once again."

Michael nodded in acceptance and understanding. "Brother Walker says I need to master my hope."

"Indeed you must. For some, this is easier to do. But there is always a way to feel hope within your heart. Letting it dwell within you will rejuvenate your soul, bless you with power in your ring and light in your eyes." Warth stated sagely. "Hope requires belief and faith. You must believe in your hope, Brother Michael, if you want to make it real." Lifting his hands, Warth flattened them and held them roughly three inches apart so they framed the Corps symbol emblazoned on his robes. Closing his dark eyes, Warth concentrated and his emblem began to glow brightly. "Hope is the essence of life and life is to be found everywhere in every form imagineable. You have to be willing to live with nature, no matter how small." The Probosian stated. "Do not judge too quickly, Brother Michael. For everyone and everything deserves to feel hope." Michael watched intrigued, his mind likening Warth's words to the meditative practices found in eastern countries on Earth.

"Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Focus on the calmness of the lake. Clear your mind of all emotions. Concentrate on hope." Warth instructed. Michael did so, hands loosely resting against his legs. But a burning question kept him from committing completely.

"Hope… for what?" He asked, curious if Warth meant something specific.

"Hope for the future. Hope for peace. There is always something to hope for, Brother Michael, no matter how mundane or trivial it may seem." Answered Warth, sounding certain of his answer.

At a glance, it appeared an easy enough suggestion. But doing so, Michael realized, required he revisit a darkness he had been trying to forget. The moment hope truly dawned on him was the moment he grappled with the decision to take his own life. The darkness around his senses reflected the darkness of that night and the all-too familiar emotions of the moment came rushing back in force. Despite everything he had been taught and told by Ganthet, Sayd, and Saint Walker, Michael still felt ashamed of his choices and actions on that day. Not to mention reliving the horrible feeling of losing everything save the clothes on his back in one bad day. The struggle within him had been real and vicious, the dark desire to end it all clashing with the potential for something brighter, just beyond his darkest night. It was a mortal struggle, but he had chosen to deny darkness of his soul and embraced the hope that filled him.

One more day. One more day. Tomorrow could be better.

The simple thought, the memory, made him weep. Tears rolled down a face of serenity as Michael took that simple hope, that cry from the depth of his soul, and fashioned it into a mantra. Tomorrow could be better.

Then he felt it: a bright lightness that took hold of his mind, heart and soul. The acceptance of his darkest night revealed the truth of his newfound calling: his pain was necessary so that he could find hope and embrace the blue light. He had to find hope so that he could give it to others.

And that was the absolute truth of the corps.

It seemed to Michael that the statement of the Blue Lanterns rang truer than ever. All will be well. Theirs was a message of goodwill and service. The truth he had found was his to impart to the galaxy, wherever it was needed most. Something as simple as 'tomorrow could be better' was all someone needed to pull themselves back from the brink. It's simplicity dazzled him but it's power left him in awe.

The revelation dawned on him and his spirit felt lifted. A warmth flooded his body as he loosed a quiet gasp and communed with raw unabashed hope for the first time. Michael could see it now; it was life in its purest form. The flourishing of existence was the great hope of the universe. They fed one another in ways Michael could not describe but could feel with such acuteness in his innermost being. The concept of hope was so much more real to him now than it ever had been.

"Do you feel it, Brother Michael?" Warth quietly asked. Not opening his eyes, Michael's smile caused tear-stained cheeks to dimple.

"Yes." He said simply. "And it's wonderful."

Days later…

The sun rose, as it did every morning, white and pure to bring daylight to the planet. Standing alone on the edge of a cliff, Michael Ryker was poised in his Blue Lantern uniform with hands on his hips as he took one last look at the land and horizon, to remember in the future. He took a nervous breath as he grappled with the fact this was his last sunrise on Odym until his return. There was no real need to fret, but the apprehension at doing something he'd never attempted before still weighed on him.

But he had been trained for this moment. Saint Walker's aid was invaluable and Ganthet and Sayd had never been far away to answer any questions he had. Now it was up to the blue light they had been coaching him towards. Hope would take the reins now.

Hardening his resolve, Michael glanced at his ring. Fully charged, it glowed a soft blue light as if urging him to go. He took a step forward, off the cliff, an act of faith and hope in his power. He took flight and the human shot over the forested canopy below. After a short burst of speed he arced upwards, racing towards the sky and the light that waited for him. He aimed for the stratosphere, speed increasing, propelling him further than he'd ever travelled before. As he did, Michael Ryker clung to hope. Hope that his ring would not fail him, hope that he could indeed be worthy of the honor of becoming a Blue Lantern. The light of his ring spurred him on as the planet grew distant.

Odym was behind him now. Crystal blue skies grew darker as they gave way to the cosmic canvas of deep space. After assessments by Ganthet, Sayd, and Saint Walker, Michael had been deemed fit to bring the blue light to the galaxy as a proper member of the Blue Lantern Corps.

Shrouded in an aura of blazing blue as he took flight to leave the planet for the first time, Michael glanced around at the scenery unfolding before him as it finally clicked: he was going out into the galaxy to represent the Corps. Not as an initiate or as a trainee, but as a full-fledged Blue Lantern.

Breaching Odym's atmosphere he paused on the edge of space, awed by the magnificence that awaited him. Dots of color speckled across a black canvas, churning swirls of white and grey, all of them individual stars hosting countless planets that were home to even more innumerable people. Michael had to stop, had to pause, had to take it all in and realize just how wonderful the cosmos really was.

White light bathed him and he looked back on the planet he had grown so familiar with as the white North Star rolled across its surface. Odym. A blue orb of whispy white and verdant green. A home away from home. It was behind him now… and the cosmos lay ahead.

Michael looked himself over. He studied the way his Blue Lantern uniform shimmered beneath his aura, the way his power ring glowed brightly against the black encasing his hand. Like a miniature star. Ganthet's short commencement words came to mind, "And now, like others who have come before you, let your blue light shine in the night skies for all to see. May you be another symbol of hope that burns eternal."

A symbol of hope. That line stuck with him. "Just like Green Lantern." He murmured, recalling the famed member of Earth's Justice League. "Or the Batman." He added, knowing well his home city's very own crime-fighter.

It occurred to Michael, with a gleam in his eyes, that he was to be a hero now too. Maybe not to Earth, but to countless others who needed a light in their blackest night. People would look up and see him, some might fall to their knees as others cried out in joy, knowing help had come. Their spirits would rise, their hope would sing out, as the Blue Lantern arrived to aid them.

A smile grew across his face, Michael feeling proud to carry this burden. Throwing his fist out, he launched ahead into the cosmos at faster-than-light speeds with his ring aglow, a brilliant blue comet from afar. He whooped for joy, feeling alive for the first time in ages, as he sailed past stars and moons and other celestial bodies. The blue light guided him, hope led him on, and he felt his life transformed. Throwing a second fist out, his speed increased as he followed the call of his ring that led him into the void of space. The elation he felt, the affirmation he knew deep in his heart, it made him a new man.

A man who was ready to spread hope to the edge of the universe and beyond.

In that moment, a Blue Lantern had been born.