They left the contemplative quiet of the balcony, descending to what Sinestro identified as the Corps Training Grounds—a massive open area divided into various specialized zones. In some, Lanterns practiced aerial maneuvers, streaking through obstacle courses at incredible speeds. In others, they engaged in combat simulations, their ring constructs clashing in controlled but intense battles. Everywhere, the green energy of willpower shaped into weapons, shields, tools, and vehicles of infinite variety.
As they crossed the grounds, a massive shadow fell across their path. Hal looked up to see the towering figure of a Lantern unlike any he'd yet encountered—purple-skinned with a prominent mohawk-like crest extending from his forehead to the back of his skull. The alien's physical presence was overwhelming, rippling with barely contained power even at rest.
"K'rok," Sinestro acknowledged with a respectful nod. "I was about to bring our newest recruit to you and Kilowog for preliminary assessment."
The massive alien's eyes fixed on Hal with unsettling intensity. "So this is Abin Sur's replacement," he rumbled, his voice so deep Hal felt it in his chest. "The human."
"Hal Jordan," Hal introduced himself, extending a hand before realizing the gesture might not translate across species.
To his surprise, K'rok clasped his forearm in what seemed to be a warrior's greeting. "K'rok of Strontia, Lantern of Sector 2112 and Shi'ar Corps liaison. I was with Abin Sur during his final mission briefing." The massive Lantern's grip was carefully controlled, but Hal could sense the tremendous strength behind it. "He was a great warrior and a greater diplomat. His loss diminishes us all."
"You're Strontian?" Hal asked, something about the name triggering a connection in his mind.
"Indeed," K'rok confirmed. "My people are known for their resilience, strength, and energy absorption capabilities. We've served as elite warriors throughout the Shi'ar Empire for millennia."
"The ring must've downloaded some information about your species," Hal said, trying to articulate the strange sense of familiarity. "Something about your biological traits seems... I don't know, reminiscent of someone we have on Earth."
This caught both K'rok and Sinestro's attention. "Impossible," Sinestro stated flatly. "Strontians are indigenous to the Shi'ar territories in what you would call the Andromeda Galaxy. None have ventured to your system."
"Perhaps not Strontian," Tomar-Re suggested, approaching their group. "But possibly Kryptonian? The biological markers are similar, though distinct in key aspects."
"Kryptonian?" K'rok's brow furrowed. "All Kryptonians perished when their planet was destroyed. Tomar-Re, you confirmed this yourself."
A shadow passed over Tomar-Re's features. "Not all, it seems. I've recently received confirmation that at least one survivor exists—on Earth." He turned to Hal. "You may know of him. A being of extraordinary abilities who has recently revealed himself to your planet's population."
"Superman," Hal breathed, the connection suddenly clear. "You're talking about Superman."
"Is that what he's called?" Tomar-Re asked. "Fitting, I suppose, given his capabilities under your yellow sun."
"Wait," Hal interjected, processing this revelation. "You knew about Krypton? About its destruction? About Superman?"
Tomar-Re's posture shifted subtly, a gesture Hal interpreted as discomfort or regret. "Krypton was in my sector, 2813. Its destruction was... a personal failure. Jor-El was a brilliant scientist, a correspondent of mine. He discovered what no other Kryptonian had—a Celestial embryo growing within their planet's core."
"And?" Hal prompted when Tomar-Re fell silent.
"Jor-El created a containment field that he believed would halt the Celestial's emergence. He contacted me when he discovered that his attempt had instead accelerated the process." Genuine sorrow filled Tomar-Re's voice. "I was to deliver a stabilizing agent that might have delayed the inevitable, but I was... delayed by a stellar flare. By the time I reached Krypton, the Celestial was already emerging. The planet was torn apart before my eyes." He paused. "I believed all Kryptonians lost until I learned Jor-El had managed to send his infant son to Earth."
"Not just sent him to Earth," Hal said. "Superman is a hero. He saved Metropolis from something called Metallo a few years back. The whole world saw him fly, use heat vision, demonstrate strength beyond anything humans are capable of."
"Jor-El would be proud," Tomar-Re said quietly. "That his son follows the noble path, even without the guidance of Kryptonian culture. I must visit Earth soon, to see this 'Superman' myself. If he truly is Jor-El's son, I owe him both an explanation and an apology."
"Perhaps I should accompany you," K'rok rumbled. "It would be interesting to meet a Kryptonian. Our biologies may be similar, but the Strontian and Kryptonian perspectives have always been quite different. My people embrace our warrior heritage; the Kryptonians were philosophers, scientists."
"This discussion, while fascinating, must wait," Sinestro interrupted, his tone making it clear he considered the topic a distraction. "Jordan's training cannot be delayed. Kilowog awaits us at the Combat Ring, and he is not known for his patience."
K'rok nodded. "I will join you. It has been some time since I've observed a human in training. The last one..." He frowned, seemingly searching his memory. "Alan Scott, I believe. Though his power source was... unorthodox."
Hal, who had been silently processing the revelation about Superman's Kryptonian heritage, snapped to attention at the mention of another human. "Wait—another human had a power ring? Why didn't anyone mention this before?"
K'rok exchanged glances with Tomar-Re, who seemed suddenly uncomfortable. "Not a power ring precisely," Tomar-Re clarified. "The Starheart is... something else entirely."
"The Starheart?" Hal repeated, his confusion evident.
Sinestro's expression darkened. "This is hardly relevant to Jordan's training. Ancient history better left—"
"He should know," K'rok countered, his deep voice carrying an authority that even Sinestro seemed reluctant to challenge directly. "The Corps has detected anomalous green energy signatures from Earth for decades. Intermittent, localized, but unmistakable."
"What kind of anomalous energy?" Hal asked.
"The Starheart is an artifact from the Guardians' early experiments," Tomar-Re explained cautiously. "Billions of years ago, when they first harnessed the green energy of will, they discovered that the emotional spectrum contained... impurities. Chaotic elements that could not be perfectly controlled."
"Elements that humans might categorize as 'magical' in nature," K'rok added, observing Hal's reaction carefully.
"Magic?" Hal couldn't keep the skepticism from his voice. "You're saying magic is real?"
"A primitive categorization," Sinestro interjected dismissively. "What Earth cultures call 'magic' is simply energy manipulation operating under principles your science hasn't yet quantified."
K'rok continued, "The Guardians gathered these wild energies and consolidated them into a single mass, sealing it within an orb—the Starheart. They cast it into the depths of space, believing it would drift harmlessly forever."
"Yet somehow, this Starheart found its way to Earth?" Hal asked.
"Our records indicate it crash-landed on your planet centuries ago," Tomar-Re confirmed. "Since then, Corps sensors have occasionally detected its unique energy signature. Most recently, stronger emanations appeared during your planet's second global conflict."
"We have limited information on its wielder," K'rok said carefully. "Only a name—Alan Scott—and scattered reports of a human generating green energy constructs not connected to any Corps-issued ring. Our attempted investigation was... inconclusive."
"Inconclusive how?" Hal pressed.
"The wielder proved elusive," K'rok said. "And the Guardians ultimately decided against direct intervention, choosing to monitor the situation from a distance. The energy signatures have diminished in recent decades, though they occasionally still register on our sensors."
Hal tried to process this revelation. "So there's been someone—this Alan Scott—using some kind of green energy on Earth for years, and the Guardians just... let it happen?"
"The Guardians' relationship with Earth is... complicated," Tomar-Re said diplomatically. "Your planet exists at a confluence of various cosmic forces, not all of which recognize the Corps' authority."
"Specifically," K'rok elaborated, "your world has been under Asgardian protection for over a millennium. After the Jötun invasion—what your Norse ancestors called Frost Giants—Odin All-Father declared Earth under his realm's protection."
"Asgard," Hal repeated, the word sounding like something from ancient mythology rather than cosmic politics. "Like... Thor and Loki? Those are real?"
"Quite real," Tomar-Re confirmed. "The Asgardians are one of the few advanced civilizations that have never contributed a member to the Corps. Their reliance on what they call 'magic'—a combination of advanced technology and manipulation of energies beyond even Guardian science—has made them... resistant to Corps oversight."
"That's putting it mildly," K'rok rumbled. "Odin explicitly barred any Lantern from interfering with Earth after the Jötun war. The treaty established Earth—or Midgard, as they call it—as an Asgardian protectorate. The Guardians, recognizing Asgard's considerable power and having other sectors requiring attention, agreed to those terms."
"So why am I here then?" Hal asked. "If Earth is supposedly off-limits?"
"Because circumstances have changed," Sinestro interjected. "Asgard has grown increasingly isolated over recent centuries. Their direct involvement in Earth affairs has diminished to near non-existence. Meanwhile, your planet's development has accelerated, drawing attention from powers far less benevolent than the Corps or Asgard."
"The arrival of the Kryptonian was the tipping point," Tomar-Re added. "It signaled to the Guardians that Earth had entered a new phase of cosmic significance. That, combined with Abin Sur's... specific interest in your world, led to the decision to assign an official Lantern to Sector 2814 despite the old arrangement."
"Specific interest?" Hal asked.
"A discussion for another time," Sinestro said firmly. "The relevant point is that you are the first official Green Lantern of Earth, chosen by a proper power ring rather than a mystical anomaly, and operating with the full authority of the Corps rather than through some loophole in ancient treaties. Now, if this exposition on interstellar politics is complete, Kilowog is waiting."
As they proceeded toward another section of the training grounds, Hal tried to process everything he'd learned in the past hour. Not only was he now part of an intergalactic peacekeeping force he hadn't known existed yesterday, but Earth apparently had some prior connection to green energy through this mysterious Starheart. The revelation that someone named Alan Scott had potentially been wielding powers similar to a Green Lantern's, possibly during World War II, added yet another layer to his rapidly expanding universe.
What other secrets might Earth hold that he'd never suspected? How many other connections existed between his seemingly ordinary homeworld and the vast cosmos he was only beginning to glimpse?
They approached a circular arena surrounded by elevated observation platforms where several Lanterns had gathered. In the center stood Kilowog, the massive drill sergeant Hal had met briefly earlier. The porcine-featured alien was currently berating a small group of recruits whose constructs had apparently failed to meet his standards.
"Pathetic!" Kilowog bellowed at a trembling, multi-limbed alien whose shield construct had just shattered under Kilowog's assault. "If that's your best defense, you might as well hand your ring back to the Guardians now! In real combat, you'd already be space dust!"
The multi-limbed recruit – a Xanadarian from what Hal could discern from the ring's subtle knowledge feed – tried again to form a shield. This time, the construct flickered into existence with more solidity, but still bore visible fracture lines even before Kilowog tested it.
"Better," Kilowog grunted, sounding almost disappointed to offer even that minimal praise. "But 'better' gets you exactly one second longer to live against a real enemy." He dismissed the recruit with a wave of his massive hand and turned his attention toward the newcomers approaching his training area.
His eyes fixed on Hal with what could only be described as predatory anticipation. "Finally! The human arrives." His voice boomed across the arena, causing several nearby Lanterns to turn and stare. "Step forward, poozer. Let's see what Abin Sur's replacement is made of."
Hal glanced at Sinestro, who merely raised an eyebrow expectantly. Taking a deep breath, Hal stepped into the ring, acutely aware of the growing audience of Lanterns gathering to watch his first training session. He recognized the weight of this moment – first impressions in the Corps would matter, especially for the first human ever to wear the ring.
The arena floor beneath his feet seemed to adjust to his presence, the green energy pathways that defined its circular boundary brightening slightly. Hal sensed other Lanterns settling into the observation areas, their interest piqued by the novelty of his species if nothing else.
"The rules are simple," Kilowog announced, cracking his massive knuckles with audible pops that echoed through the chamber. "I attack. You defend. If your constructs hold, we move to the next level. If they fail..." He grinned, displaying impressive tusks that gleamed in the omnipresent green light. "Well, the medical facilities on Oa are excellent."
Kilowog's eyes narrowed as he sized Hal up. "No special treatment for Abin Sur's replacement. No allowances for your primitive species." He began circling Hal slowly. "In fact, I think we'll skip the basic orientation and jump straight to level three."
Murmurs rippled through the watching Lanterns. Even Sinestro's perpetual composure slipped momentarily, a flicker of concern crossing his features before the mask of indifference returned.
"Any last words before we begin, human?" Kilowog asked, his ring hand already starting to glow brighter.
Hal squared his shoulders, falling back on the cocky demeanor that had carried him through countless test flights and evaluations. "Just wondering if this is the part where I'm supposed to be intimidated, or if that comes later."
A ripple of surprised laughter came from the observation platforms, quickly silenced by Kilowog's glare. The drill sergeant's mouth twitched in what might have been the ghost of appreciation for Hal's nerve.
"Oh, intimidation definitely comes later, poozer."
Without further warning, Kilowog thrust his ring forward. A massive green battering ram materialized and hurtled toward Hal at frightening speed, its surface adorned with cruel spikes that hadn't been present in the versions he'd used against the other recruits.
Acting on instinct rather than training, Hal raised his own ring, visualizing the toughest barrier he could imagine—the titanium-alloy heat shield from an experimental re-entry vehicle he'd helped test at Ferris Aircraft. He poured his will into the construct, feeling the ring respond to his visualization with surprising clarity.
The shield materialized just as Kilowog's battering ram struck. The impact sent vibrations through Hal's entire body, rattling his teeth and briefly blurring his vision. But to his surprise—and judging by the reaction of the observers, to everyone else's surprise as well—the shield held. The battering ram dispersed into wisps of green energy that dissipated harmlessly around him.
"Not bad for a first attempt," Kilowog grudgingly acknowledged, his voice betraying a hint of genuine surprise. "But that was just a warm-up."
The drill sergeant didn't waste another moment. This time, two constructs formed simultaneously – a massive hammer swinging from above while a series of spikes erupted from the arena floor beneath Hal's feet. The dual attack required split-second reaction. Hal dove sideways while maintaining his shield overhead, modifying its shape into a curved dome that deflected the hammer. His landing was less graceful, and one of the floor spikes grazed his calf, sending a jolt of pain up his leg.
"Too slow!" Kilowog barked. "In the field, you're fighting enemies who don't attack one at a time. Multitasking isn't optional, poozer!"
Hal regained his footing, noting with mild alarm that where the construct had touched him, his uniform was torn and a thin line of blood was visible. These weren't mere simulations – Kilowog's constructs carried real force behind them.
"Ring energy can be calibrated to stun, capture, or cut through starship hulls," Kilowog explained, seeing Hal's reaction. "Figuring out the right intensity for the situation is the difference between capturing an enemy and vaporizing a civilian. Right now, mine are set to 'teach you a lesson.'"
The next attack came without warning – a tornado-like vortex that pulled Hal off his feet before he could properly brace himself. As he tumbled through the air, disoriented by the spinning, Kilowog fired a barrage of projectiles from multiple directions.
Hal's pilot training kicked in – the sensation wasn't entirely unlike a flat spin in an aircraft. He stabilized himself within the vortex by creating wing-like extensions from his uniform, giving him enough control to form a spherical shield around his entire body. Most of the projectiles bounced off, but three penetrated before his shield fully formed, striking him in the shoulder, thigh, and side.
He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. But instead of staying down, he rolled to his feet immediately, ignoring the pain and maintaining his shield.
"Better reaction time," Kilowog noted, "but your construct density is inconsistent. You're burning willpower like a rookie – all flash, no efficiency."
What followed was the most physically and mentally demanding experience of Hal's life. Kilowog's attacks came relentlessly—hammers, missiles, saw blades, crushing walls—each requiring a different defensive strategy. The drill sergeant seemed to have an unlimited reservoir of creativity when it came to finding new ways to test Hal's defenses, each construct more elaborate and challenging than the last.
Hal drew on every engineering principle he'd ever learned, creating layered defenses, energy-absorbing barriers, deflection systems. His test pilot background proved unexpectedly valuable – the physics of flight translated into an intuitive understanding of force distribution and structural integrity that he applied to his constructs.
Some failed spectacularly, earning him punishing impacts that sent him sprawling across the arena. A particularly vicious flail construct caught him squarely in the chest, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the arena's boundary. The impact left him momentarily dazed, copper taste of blood in his mouth.
"Get up, Jordan," Sinestro called from the sideline, his voice cutting through Hal's disorientation. "A Lantern who stays down is a dead Lantern."
Hal staggered to his feet, drawing on reserves of determination that had gotten him through experimental aircraft tests and crash landings. Other constructs held but consumed so much energy that Hal felt his willpower draining with each defense, a strange sensation like mental muscles being stretched beyond their capacity.
Through it all, Kilowog bellowed criticism and occasional reluctant approval, while the observing Lanterns exchanged comments Hal couldn't hear. The crowd had grown larger, he noticed during a brief respite as Kilowog reset for another sequence. Word had apparently spread that Abin Sur's replacement was being put through his paces.
"Your constructs lack discipline," Kilowog lectured as Hal caught his breath, blood trickling from a cut above his eye. "You're relying too much on complexity when simplicity would serve better. Look here—"
Kilowog demonstrated, creating a simple curved shield. "Perfect density distribution, minimal energy expenditure." The shield morphed seamlessly into a battering ram. "Conversion between defensive and offensive applications should be instantaneous."
Hal nodded, studying the construct's properties carefully. He attempted to replicate it, his version coming close but lacking the seamless quality of Kilowog's demonstration.
"You're thinking too hard," Kilowog said, surprisingly insightful despite his gruff demeanor. "The ring responds to will and intention, not just mental visualization. Feel the construct, don't just picture it."
Hal tried again, focusing less on the exact specifications and more on the essential purpose of the shield. This time, the construct formed more cleanly, its energy distribution more efficient.
"There," Kilowog said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Now maybe you'll last another five minutes before I break you completely."
The training resumed with renewed intensity. Kilowog introduced environmental hazards – sections of the arena floor becoming unstable, gravity shifting unpredictably, even atmospheric conditions changing from breathable air to vacuum without warning, forcing Hal to maintain a life support bubble while defending against attacks.
"In space, there's no air to breathe, no pressure to keep your fluids from boiling off, and radiation that'll cook you from the inside out," Kilowog explained as Hal struggled to maintain his life support bubble while deflecting a series of energy lances. "Your ring handles all of that automatically once you've mastered basic aura control. Until then, you have to consciously maintain life support alongside everything else."
Through sheer persistence, Hal adjusted to this new challenge, gradually requiring less conscious focus to maintain his protective aura. The experience reminded him of learning to fly, how initially every control adjustment required deliberate thought until eventually they became second nature, allowing focus on higher-level decision making.
"Enough defensive work," Kilowog finally announced after Hal had successfully deflected a particularly complex attack involving multiple vectors. "Let's see if you can actually hit something, poozer."
Hal, bruised and breathing hard, straightened. His uniform was torn in several places, smears of blood visible through the rips. But his eyes remained alert and determined. This, at least, was familiar territory—combat flight training had been part of his brief military career before he'd moved to test piloting.
"Simple exercise," Kilowog continued, generating a series of small, fast-moving targets that began darting around the arena in unpredictable patterns. "Hit them all before they hit you."
The targets resembled glowing green spheres about the size of baseballs, but they moved with incredible speed and agility, capable of instantaneous direction changes that defied normal physics. Hal estimated there were at least thirty of them.
He considered the challenge, knowing that trying to create and aim individual weapons at each target would be inefficient. Instead, he recalled a defensive system he'd once seen demonstrated during his Air Force days—a carrier-based close-in weapon system designed to track and eliminate multiple incoming threats.
Focusing his will, he generated a construct version of the system—a rapidly rotating barrel surrounded by targeting sensors. As it materialized, Hal refined the design, making the targeting system more responsive, the energy pulses more accurate. Within seconds, his construct was tracking and eliminating Kilowog's targets with mechanical precision, the targeting algorithms working just as he'd envisioned them.
A murmur ran through the watching Lanterns. This was apparently not the standard approach to the exercise. Most of the observers seemed impressed by the innovation, though some appeared skeptical about the complexity of the construct.
Kilowog's eyes narrowed. "Impressive automation. But relying too heavily on mechanical constructs can be dangerous if your opponent disrupts your concentration." To demonstrate, he generated a massive sonic boom directly in front of Hal, the concussive sound wave specifically designed to disorient and break focus.
The disorienting sound shattered Hal's concentration momentarily, his weapon system flickering as the mental blueprint that sustained it became jumbled in his mind. Three targets immediately took advantage of the gap in his defenses, striking him in rapid succession – chest, shoulder, back. Each impact felt like a solid punch, driving the air from his lungs and sending him staggering.
"Never depend on a single approach," Kilowog lectured as Hal struggled to regain his balance. "Adaptability is survival."
"Noted," Hal managed, shaking his head to clear it. This time, he tried a different strategy, generating multiple smaller defensive constructs that moved independently, each targeting a specific threat. It was harder to maintain, requiring him to split his attention across several constructs simultaneously, but also more resilient to disruption. If Kilowog broke his concentration again, he'd likely lose some of the defenses but not all of them at once.
The targets accelerated, becoming more aggressive in their attack patterns. Hal's defenses adapted in real-time, his constructs shifting and evolving based on the emerging threat patterns. It was exhausting work, maintaining so many independent constructs simultaneously, but Hal found a rhythm in the chaos. Each successful interception gave him fractionally more confidence, each adaptation coming slightly more naturally than the last.
"The human learns quickly," a voice observed from the growing audience. Hal didn't dare take his attention from the exercise to identify the speaker.
"He has an interesting tactical approach," another voice agreed. "Very different from standard Corps methodology."
"Different isn't always better," came a skeptical response.
The training continued for what felt like hours, each exercise more demanding than the last. Kilowog pushed Hal to his mental and physical limits, forcing him to create constructs under pressure, while injured, while disoriented, while defending others. The scenarios grew increasingly complex—simulated hostage situations, evacuation operations, multi-opponent combat.
For the evacuation drill, Kilowog created holographic "civilians" of various alien species, along with a collapsing structure. Hal had to extract the civilians while maintaining structural integrity long enough for evacuation. His solution – creating a network of support beams while simultaneously forming transport platforms for groups of civilians – showed creativity but lacked the precision of more experienced Lanterns.
"Those support constructs would have failed within seconds," Kilowog critiqued. "You saved the civilians but you'd have been crushed yourself."
Throughout it all, Hal noticed the audience had grown considerably larger. The Lanterns from the memorial service were now watching with interest, as were dozens of others from species Hal couldn't identify. Their whispered observations sometimes reached him—"innovative approach," "unorthodox techniques," "relies too much on his planet's technology"—adding another layer of pressure to the already grueling session.
Among the observers, Hal noticed two Lanterns who seemed particularly focused on his performance. One had blue skin with a distinctly military bearing, his uniform modified with additional insignia that suggested rank or special status in the Kree Empire. The other had a greenish complexion with subtle ridges along his jawline marking him as Skrull, though his features seemed more reserved than the stereotypical Skrull aggression Hal had glimpsed in the historical briefings his ring had provided.
The two stood noticeably apart from each other despite watching the same training session, the tension between them palpable even from a distance. They each had their own small contingent of fellow Lanterns keeping a careful buffer zone between the groups.
Hal had little time to contemplate their presence as Kilowog launched into the final phase of training – a simulated multi-opponent battle that required Hal to engage three construct-generated opponents simultaneously. Each "opponent" used a different attack style, forcing rapid adaptation between defensive postures.
By this point, Hal was operating on pure determination. His body ached from numerous impacts, his mind strained from hours of continuous construct manipulation. Yet somehow, he found his second wind, moving with greater fluidity than before as certain construct formations began to feel more natural, requiring less conscious thought to maintain.
Finally, when Hal was swaying with exhaustion, his uniform torn and his body aching in places he hadn't known could ache, Kilowog called a halt.
"Not completely hopeless," the drill sergeant announced, which Hal gathered was high praise coming from him. "Your constructs have decent structural integrity, and you think creatively under pressure. But your energy efficiency is terrible—you're burning willpower like a sun burns hydrogen. And your situational awareness needs serious work."
He turned to Sinestro, who had been observing silently throughout. "He's got potential, but it's raw. Very raw. Needs discipline, focus training, and about a thousand flight hours before I'd consider him field-ready."
"Unfortunately, Sector 2814 cannot wait for standard training timelines," Sinestro replied, his tone pragmatic. "I'll continue his instruction in the field. For now, let's move to basic flight and navigation."
Kilowog grunted acknowledgment, then fixed Hal with what might have been an approving glance. "Hit the recovery chambers for thirty minutes, poozer. Then meet us at the atmospheric training zone." As he stomped away, he added gruffly, "Not bad for a first day. Most recruits can't even form a stable shield against my first attack."
As the crowd dispersed, Tomar-Re approached, guiding Hal toward what appeared to be a medical facility. "Kilowog's methods are harsh but effective," he observed. "And he's right—you showed surprising aptitude for a first session. Most new Lanterns require several attempts before achieving the construct stability you demonstrated."
"I think my background helped," Hal admitted, wincing as a medical drone began treating his various injuries with some kind of green energy that simultaneously hurt and healed. The sensation was strange – like ice and fire applied to the wounds simultaneously, painful but with an underlying sense of rapid renewal. "Test pilots need to make split-second engineering calculations while under extreme stress. Creating constructs feels similar—visualizing structures that have to withstand specific forces."
"A useful perspective," Tomar-Re agreed. "Each species brings unique advantages to the Corps. Xudarians like myself possess natural mathematical abilities that make complex constructs easier to maintain. K'rok's Strontian physiology allows him to absorb and redirect energy attacks that would incapacitate most Lanterns. Your human adaptability and creative problem-solving may prove equally valuable."
As Hal's injuries healed under the strange treatment, he caught sight of the Kree and Skrull Lanterns engaged in another heated discussion nearby. The tension between them was palpable, drawing concerned glances from other Lanterns who gave the pair a wide berth.
"What's their story?" Hal asked quietly, nodding toward the mismatched pair.
Tomar-Re followed his gaze. "Hon-Sil of the Kree Empire and K'rll of the Skrull Imperium. Both exceptional Lanterns when operating independently, but their mutual hostility has become... problematic."
The Xudarian's expression grew thoughtful. "The situation is complex. The Skrull leadership recently underwent a significant shift, with Emperor Dorrek's faction advocating for diplomatic resolution to their longstanding conflict with the Kree. They've established a peaceful contingent genuinely committed to ending hostilities."
"But not all Skrulls share this perspective," Tomar-Re continued. "A radical faction believes accommodation with the Kree is tantamount to surrender. They've broken from the main Imperium, pursuing more aggressive technologies and tactics. Our intelligence suggests they're developing enhanced warriors – 'Super Skrulls' as they call them – capable of mimicking multiple alien abilities simultaneously."
Hal watched as K'rll gestured emphatically, his posture defensive but restrained. Unlike the caricature of Skrull aggression, he seemed to be exercising considerable self-control.
"K'rll represents Dorrek's peace faction," Tomar-Re explained, noting Hal's observation. "He's advocated for joint Kree-Skrull peacekeeping operations in disputed territories – a position that's made him unpopular with traditionalists on both sides."
"And the Kree? They're not interested in peace?" Hal asked.
"The Kree Empire maintains the Accuser Corps – military enforcers who answer directly to their Supreme Intelligence. Hon-Sil served with the Accusers before joining the Lanterns, and he brings their... uncompromising perspective with him." Tomar-Re's tone suggested diplomatic understatement. "The current escalation in the Kree-Skrull War has strained even the Corps' neutrality protocols. Last month, they nearly came to blows during a joint operation in the Binar System."
"I would've thought the Guardians would keep them separated."
"On the contrary, the Guardians deliberately assign them compatible sectors to force cooperation. The theory is that exemplary Lanterns from opposing factions can build bridges where politicians cannot." Tomar-Re's tone suggested he had doubts about this approach. "In practice, it sometimes creates additional tensions."