The Archives Division of Oa occupied an entire hemisphere of the planet's subsurface, a labyrinthine complex extending miles beneath the gleaming spires of the citadel. As Hal descended via a gravity tube that carried him deep into Oa's crust, he couldn't help but feel a sense of reverent awe. This place contained the accumulated knowledge of the universe's oldest civilization with records dating back to the dawn of creation itself.
"Lantern Jordan," greeted a slender, pink-skinned alien with four arms and an elongated head. "I am Senior Archivist Salaak. I have been assigned to facilitate your report documentation." His severe expression and rigid posture suggested a being wholly dedicated to protocol and order.
"Thanks," Hal replied, noting the alien's slight scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his features. Despite his stern countenance, Salaak's efficiency was evident in the precise movements of his four arms, each operating independent holographic interfaces simultaneously.
"Your encounter with the Red Lanterns is of highest priority," Salaak continued, leading Hal through a series of security checkpoints where their rings were scanned at each transition. "All technical specifications must be recorded with precision. Follow me to Recording Chamber Seven." His voice carried the dry, bureaucratic tone of someone who had been maintaining records for centuries.
They passed through vast halls lined with what appeared to be books, though on closer inspection revealed themselves to be crystal tablets similar to the one in Hal's pocket. Some were small enough to hold in one hand, while others towered two stories high, requiring antigravity platforms for access. Lanterns of various species worked throughout the complex, some accessing knowledge, others contributing to it.
"This place is incredible," Hal remarked, his pilot's mind automatically calculating the sheer volume of information stored in just the section they were walking through.
"The Archives contain 3.8 billion years of recorded history," Salaak replied matter-of-factly, not breaking stride as two of his hands continued manipulating data on floating screens. "This particular section houses only the most recent ten million years. The deeper levels contain records from..." he paused, his elongated features suggesting mild irritation at having to simplify concepts, "...what you might consider the universe's childhood."
Recording Chamber Seven turned out to be a small, spherical room whose inner surface was composed entirely of receptive crystal. As they entered, the doorway sealed behind them, and the chamber dimmed slightly.
"Place your ring here," Salaak instructed, indicating a depression in a pedestal at the chamber's center. "The system will extract your direct observational data while I record your verbal analysis." His four arms moved in perfect coordination, preparing the chamber's systems.
Hal hesitated. "Before we start, I'd like to access some information as well. Something relevant to understanding the Red Lantern threat."
Salaak's already severe expression hardened further, his elongated face contorting into what was unmistakably disapproval. "Archives access typically follows report submission, not precedes it. Protocol exists for a reason, Lantern Jordan."
"I understand, but this can't wait," Hal insisted. "I have a data crystal from Abin Sur that may contain critical information about what we're facing. The Guardians themselves suggested I review it promptly."
This wasn't entirely accurate—the Guardians had reluctantly agreed to let him review it before surrendering it—but Salaak didn't need to know that detail.
The four-armed archivist's frown deepened, all four hands momentarily freezing in their operations. "You are being... selective with the truth, Lantern Jordan. The Guardians made no such suggestion in their official communication." Despite his words, Salaak's lower right hand moved toward a different depression in the pedestal. "However, given the nature of the crisis, procedural exceptions may be warranted. Data crystal analysis can be conducted here." The depression was shaped to receive a crystal. "Please note that all accessed information will be automatically logged in accordance with security protocols."
Of course it would be, Hal thought. Nothing happened on Oa without the Guardians' knowledge—a fact he was beginning to find both reassuring and troubling. He placed Arin's crystal in the indicated slot.
The chamber around them immediately transformed, the walls lighting up with projected imagery so vivid it was like being transported into Abin Sur's memories. Hal found himself surrounded by three-dimensional recordings, journal entries, and data analyses spanning years of investigation. The sheer volume was overwhelming.
"This is... extensive," Salaak observed, three of his arms moving rapidly to catalog the incoming data while the fourth remained perfectly still—a sign of his surprise, Hal realized. "Abin Sur appears to have conducted unauthorized research on a scale I would not have anticipated. Accessing complete catalog now."
A holographic index materialized in front of them, organizing the crystal's contents chronologically. The earliest entries dated back nearly five years, beginning with what appeared to be routine patrol logs from Sector 2814. But as Hal scanned forward, he noticed a distinct shift in focus—increasingly frequent mentions of "prophecy," "Sector 666," and "Inversions." The entries became more detailed, more urgent, and decidedly less official in tone.
"Start with this one," Hal directed, selecting an entry from approximately four years ago marked "First Ysmault Visitation."
The recording that materialized showed Abin Sur standing in a desolate landscape—a red-tinged wasteland with oddly shaped formations that seemed to pulse with an inner malevolence. The Lantern looked younger than when Hal had met him, his purple features less careworn, but his expression was deeply troubled.
"Personal log, supplemental," Abin Sur's voice filled the chamber. "I have completed my official investigation of the anomalous energy signatures in Sector 666. What follows is not for official Corps records."
The image shifted as Abin turned, revealing a forbidding structure behind him—a prison complex built into a mountain of crimson stone.
"I was drawn here by something beyond standard protocols—a dream, recurring with increasing frequency. I saw this place, Ysmault, though I had never visited it before. I saw... him."
The recording shifted again, showing a massive, scarred being restrained by energy bonds. Even in holographic form, the prisoner's presence was intimidating—his red skin marked with ritual scars, his eyes burning with an intelligence and hatred that transcended the boundaries of the recording.
"Atrocitus of the Five Inversions," Abin Sur's voice continued. "The Guardians classify him as merely a dangerous criminal, a relic of ancient history. But he is far more. During my interrogation, he demonstrated precognitive abilities unlike anything in Corps records. He knew details of my life that no prisoner could possibly know. And he spoke of a coming darkness—'The Blackest Night,' he called it."
The recording showed Abin approaching the bound Atrocitus cautiously.
"Tell me again," Abin's voice was controlled, professional, but Hal could detect the undercurrent of unease. "What did you see?"
Atrocitus's voice made Hal's skin crawl—deep, resonant, and carrying emotional overtones that even the recording couldn't fully capture.
"I see death rising, Lantern," the prisoner rumbled. "I see the harvest of souls long rotted. I see your precious Corps broken against the coming tide. The emotional spectrum will fracture—not just green and red, but yellow, blue, indigo, violet, orange. Seven lights, seven corps, fighting a war that will engulf the stars themselves."
"And Earth?" Abin pressed. "You mentioned my sector specifically. Why?"
Atrocitus's expression shifted into something like cruel amusement. "Ah, the nexus world. So insignificant yet so crucial. The humans know nothing of their importance, of course. But you should be watching them more carefully, Lantern. Particularly the one who will either save the universe... or doom it."
The recording ended abruptly there, cutting to Abin's contemplative face as he recorded his thoughts afterward.
"I have cross-referenced Corps historical records on Sector 666 and found troubling inconsistencies. The Guardians' official account of the Manhunter rebellion omits critical details that Atrocitus revealed. I require independent verification, but if even a fraction of what he claims is true..." Abin's expression darkened. "I must consult with Sinestro. His knowledge of ancient Corps history exceeds my own."
The recording faded, and Hal found himself staring at the index again, his mind racing with implications. "Show me entries regarding Earth specifically," he instructed.
The system complied, highlighting several dozen entries spanning the four years of Abin's investigation. Hal selected the most recent, dated just two weeks before Abin's death.
This recording showed Abin in what Hal recognized as his ship—the same vessel that had crashed on Earth. The Ungaran looked exhausted, his features strained with fatigue and what might have been fear.
"I've confirmed it," he began without preamble. "The patterns Atrocitus identified are real. Extinction-level events across multiple sectors follow the sequence he described. The crisis point approaches more rapidly than I initially calculated."
Abin manipulated controls off-screen, and a star map appeared beside him, focusing on Earth's solar system.
"The human homeworld remains central to every projection. I've been monitoring their development closely. Their appearance of primitive technology is deceptive—the potential for rapid advancement exists, particularly in response to external stimulus. But the real significance lies in their genetic makeup."
The display shifted to show human DNA alongside similar patterns from other species. Sections were highlighted, showing unusual correlations.
"The Kryptonian's arrival was not coincidence. The emergence of metahumans is not random mutation. Something is directing Earth's evolutionary path—something that understands what's coming. I must investigate in person. The ship's stealth capabilities should allow me to conduct a thorough—"
A sudden alarm interrupted Abin's recording. His expression shifted to alert concern. "Energy signature detected. Unknown origin. Initiating evasive maneuvers."
The recording became chaotic as the ship lurched. Warning lights flashed across Abin's face as he worked the controls with practiced efficiency. "Log continuation suspended. Emergency protocols engaged."
The image stabilized briefly, showing Abin looking directly into the recorder, his expression grim but resolved. "If this log is recovered, the information must reach the Corps. The Five Inversions must be contained at all costs. If Atrocitus escapes—"
Another violent jolt cut off his words. The last image before the recording ended showed a massive energy surge overloading the ship's systems, and Abin being thrown from his seat as control panels exploded around him.
Hal stared at the empty space where the projection had been, a chill running through him. "That was recorded just before he crashed on Earth," he said quietly. "Something attacked his ship. Something that knew what he was investigating."
Salaak's four hands worked in perfect unison, documenting the revelation with meticulous precision. "This information contradicts official records regarding Lantern Abin Sur's crash. The incident report cited navigation system failure in an asteroid field, not an attack."
"Well, the incident report was wrong," Hal replied grimly. "Someone or something wanted to stop Abin from reaching Earth—or from bringing what he'd learned back to Oa."
He was about to request another recording when his ring pulsed sharply, emitting a distinctive alert tone he hadn't heard before.
"Priority alert," the ring announced. "Sector 2814, Xandarian Mining Colony Praxis VII. Danger Level Three. Unidentified vessel detected entering colony space. Weapons signatures active. Civilian casualties probable."
Hal's attention immediately shifted from the archives to his ring's projection. "Show me," he commanded.
His ring projected a tactical display—a spacecraft of unfamiliar design performing aggressive maneuvers around one of the Nova Corps' outermost mining colonies in Sector 2814. The colony orbited a small planetoid rich in rare minerals, its population primarily Xandarian workers with a handful of other species providing specialized expertise. Weapon systems were powering up on the vessel, targeting the colony's primary life support hub.
"That's a Nova Corps mining operation," Hal recognized immediately, his brief Corps orientation kicking in. "They're technically outside Earth's system but still in my sector." He turned to Salaak. "I need to go. Now."
"Your report is incomplete," the archivist protested, all four arms gesturing in synchronized indignation. "And the Guardians' instructions were clear regarding solo engagement of threats."
"This isn't the Red Lanterns," Hal replied, already moving toward the chamber's exit. "This is something else, and it's happening in my sector. I don't have time to wait for a committee decision or backup."
The crystal containing Abin Sur's logs ejected from the pedestal. Hal snatched it and returned it to his pocket in one fluid motion. "We'll finish this later. My sector comes first."
Salaak made no further attempt to stop him, though his elongated features compressed into what was unmistakably disapproval. "I will inform the Guardians of this development. Proper protocols exist for precisely these contingencies, Lantern Jordan."
"You do that," Hal called over his shoulder, already racing toward the surface, his mind calculating the fastest route to the colony. The gravity tube accelerated him upward at speeds that would have crushed an unprotected human, his ring automatically compensating for the G-forces.
Emerging onto Oa's surface, Hal didn't bother with formal departure protocols. He launched himself skyward, his ring creating a protective aura as he accelerated to escape velocity in seconds. Once clear of Oa's atmosphere, he established the most direct wormhole jump coordinates to the Xandarian colony.
"Maximum speed," he instructed his ring. "Calculate shortest safe route."
"Warning," the ring responded. "Direct jumps exceeding three galactic quadrants without rest intervals may result in significant energy depletion and/or user disorientation."
"Noted. Do it anyway."
Space folded around him, stars stretching into lines as he entered the wormhole. The journey compressed into minutes of pulsing emerald energy. Hal's mind focused during transit, reviewing what he'd learned while preparing for whatever awaited him.
The wormhole exit flashed with emerald light as Hal emerged in the colony's star system, immediately orienting himself toward the mining operation. His ring's sensors updated—the unidentified ship had docked forcibly with the colony's main hub, breaching its hull, and energy weapons were being deployed against the internal security forces.
Hal streaked toward the colony, a green meteor against the backdrop of stars. As he approached, details became clearer—the ship was larger than his initial scans had suggested, its design unlike anything in Corps records. Not Kree, not Skrull, not any of the major galactic powers his ring's database recognized.
The Xandarian colony was under heavy assault, its defensive systems disabled in multiple areas. Nova Corps response units were en route, but they were still hours away according to Hal's calculations. From his approach, he could see figures moving through the facility—humanoid but definitely not Xandarian, their movements too coordinated, too precise for a random attack.
This was a professional operation with a specific objective.
Hal circled the colony once, assessing the situation. The attackers had already secured the main storage sector and appeared to be extracting something from the research laboratories adjacent to the mining operation. Whatever they were after, they'd come prepared—their tactics suggesting extensive intelligence on the colony's layout and defenses.
Just as he was about to intervene, something unexpected reached his ears through the colony's compromised communication system—music. Earth music. Specifically, what sounded unmistakably like Michael Jackson's "Thriller." And someone was singing along at the top of their lungs.
The voice belted out the chorus about creatures crawling in the night, followed by enthusiastic but off-key attempts at mimicking the iconic Vincent Price laugh. The sound was so surreal and out of place in the middle of an alien colony under attack that Hal momentarily froze in confusion.
"What the hell?" he muttered to himself, recalibrating his approach to locate the source of the bizarre soundtrack.
His ring's directional audio sensors pinpointed the music to the colony's research lab—precisely where the raiders seemed to be focusing their efforts. As he moved closer, the singing grew louder, punctuated by occasional whoops and improvised dance sound effects.
"Time to introduce myself," Hal decided, diving toward the main hub where most of the activity was concentrated.
He created a massive emerald shield that sealed a hull breach, preventing further atmospheric loss that would have killed dozens of colony workers seconds later. The unexpected intervention caused the attackers to scatter, looking toward the source of the green energy in confusion.
The music abruptly cut off mid-chorus.
"This is Green Lantern Sector 2814," Hal announced, his voice carried through the colony's compromised communication system. "You are engaged in an unauthorized attack on a protected facility. Stand down immediately or face direct intervention."
The response was immediate and entirely expected—concentrated weapons fire directed at his position from multiple points. Hal's shield expanded, absorbing the barrage while he analyzed their weapons' energy signatures. Nothing exceptional by galactic standards, but far beyond what typical pirates or raiders would possess.
With a thought, Hal transformed his shield into dozens of emerald restraints that shot toward the nearest attackers. Three were immobilized before they could react, but the others displayed combat reflexes that went beyond amateur raiders. They moved with practiced precision, adjusting their weapons to a different frequency that briefly disrupted Hal's constructs.
"Well, that's interesting," Hal noted, adapting his approach. Rather than direct restraints, he created an enclosure around the entire section—a massive dome of emerald energy that sealed the attackers inside while allowing the colony workers to evacuate to safety.
A new figure emerged from the colony's central laboratory—taller than the others, his blue skin and red mohawk-like crest immediately distinguishing him as the leader. Unlike his compatriots, he wore no helmet, his face fully visible and twisted in a scowl of annoyed recognition as he looked up at Hal.
"Green Lantern," the blue-skinned humanoid growled, his voice carrying a distinctive drawl that seemed oddly out of place coming from an alien. "Ain't this just perfect timing. Boys, we got ourselves a complication!"
At his signal, the attackers regrouped, forming a defensive perimeter around whatever they were extracting from the laboratory. Their leader raised what looked like a primitive arrow in one hand, studying Hal with calculating eyes.
"You're trespassing, assaulting a protected colony, and stealing research that doesn't belong to you," Hal called down, reinforcing his dome as their weapons continued testing its limits. "I'm only going to ask once more—stand down."
"Hey Yondu!" a voice called from somewhere in the lab, distinctly human and carrying a Midwestern American accent. "Can I come out now? I got that security bypass working like you wanted."
The unexpected sound of another human voice—here, at the edge of known space—momentarily distracted Hal. The blue-skinned leader—Yondu, apparently—looked even more irritated.
"Stay put, you idiot!" he barked toward the lab. "We got a Green Lantern situation out here!"
"A Green what-now?" the voice replied, followed by the unmistakable click and whir of a cassette tape being ejected from a Walkman. "Is that some kind of space cop?"
Before Yondu could respond, a man stepped into view from the laboratory doorway—a human man. He appeared to be around Hal's age, maybe a couple years younger, with light brown hair and the beginning of a scruffy beard. He wore a weathered leather jacket over a faded t-shirt, standard-issue cargo pants that looked like they'd been patched multiple times, and a pair of boots that had seen better days. Most incongruously, he had headphones around his neck connected to a bright yellow Sony Walkman clipped to his belt.
The man froze mid-step, staring at Hal with the same shocked disbelief that Hal felt seeing another human so far from Earth.
"Holy shit," the man breathed, eyes wide. "You're human?"
The blue-skinned leader's response was a sharp whistle. The arrow in his hand suddenly ignited with red energy and shot upward with impossible speed, changing direction multiple times as it sought a way through Hal's construct. The unusual weapon actually managed to penetrate the outer layer of the dome before Hal caught it in a secondary construct.
"Yaka arrow," the leader explained with a predatory grin, momentarily distracting Hal from the shocking presence of another human. "Don't respond too well to fancy force fields. Especially when I'm the one whistling."
"And you are?" Hal asked, studying the distinctive weapon while keeping part of his attention on the human with the Walkman, who was still staring at him in open astonishment.
"Name's Yondu Udonta, boy. Captain of the Ravagers." He gave an exaggerated bow. "We're just here conducting some legitimate business. Ain't no need for Corps interference."
"Legitimate business involving shooting up a Nova Corps colony and stealing whatever you've got there?" Hal countered, nodding toward the container being loaded onto a hovering platform.
Yondu's red fin seemed to glow slightly as his expression shifted to calculated amusement. "Let's just say there's folks willing to pay good units for certain items your Xandarian friends have been hiding. Nothing personal, just business."
Meanwhile, the human man had recovered from his initial shock and was sidling toward Yondu, still openly gaping at Hal.
"Dude, seriously," he said, gesturing emphatically at Hal while addressing Yondu. "You never told me there were other humans out here! I thought I was the only one!"
"Because there ain't supposed to be!" Yondu snapped. "This is new."
Hal couldn't help himself. "I could say the same thing," he called to the man. "Humanity's barely made it past our own moon. What the hell are you doing out here with these pirates?"
"Entrepreneurs," the man corrected with a grin that spoke of practiced charm. "We're entrepreneurs. Peter Quill's the name. Some people call me Star-Lord."
"Nobody calls you that," Yondu grumbled.
"That's because you guys haven't given it a chance to catch on," Quill replied, seeming genuinely offended. He turned back to Hal. "So what's your deal? That some kind of super-advanced Earth tech? The floating and the green force field stuff?"
Despite the absurdity of having this conversation in the middle of an active raid, Hal found himself answering. "No, it's alien. I'm Green Lantern, Sector 2814."
"Green Lantern," Quill repeated, testing the words. "Cool title. Way better than 'Ravager.' I've been trying to rebrand us as the 'Starjammers,' but no one's biting." He studied Hal more carefully. "So did aliens abduct you too? I got snatched up when I was eight. 1988. Right after my mom..." He trailed off, the cocky demeanor briefly slipping to reveal something more complicated beneath.
"Quill!" Yondu barked. "This ain't show and tell. That there's a Green Lantern. Galaxy's police force, and a serious pain in our posterior regions right now."
Hal's mind was reeling. This human—Peter Quill—had apparently been abducted from Earth as a child and had been living among aliens for over twenty years. The implications were staggering, but there were more immediate concerns.
"Ring, analyze that container," Hal ordered quietly, refocusing on the original threat.
"Analysis in progress," the ring responded. "Warning: Contents exhibit similarities to energy profiles recorded in Abin Sur's final transmission. Potentially hazardous."
That got Hal's full attention. Whatever these Ravagers were stealing, it was connected to what Abin Sur had been investigating—perhaps even related to the Blackest Night prophecy.
"That container," Hal called to Yondu, tightening his dome. "What's in it?"
Something in his tone must have conveyed the shift in seriousness, because Yondu's casual demeanor faltered briefly. "Just a fancy rock," he replied, but his eyes darted to the container with new wariness. "Client wants it, we deliver it. Standard retrieval job."
"Who's the client?" Hal pressed.
"Now that would be violating customer confidentiality," Yondu drawled, though his posture had changed subtly, becoming more alert, more ready for serious conflict. "Ravager code and all that."
While they spoke, Quill had somehow managed to work his way closer to the container, studying Hal with undisguised fascination. In a lightning-quick move, he pulled a device from his jacket and activated it, producing a localized electromagnetic pulse that temporarily disrupted Hal's concentration.
Taking advantage of the momentary falter in Hal's construct, Quill executed a perfect moonwalk across the laboratory floor—literally sliding backward while snapping his fingers, a move so unexpected in this context that everyone, including Yondu's crew, briefly froze to stare.
"Hee-hee!" Quill vocalized, adding a perfect Michael Jackson-inspired spin at the end of his moonwalk. "Thirty years of practice pays off! Earth moves, baby!"
"What the hell are you doing?" Yondu demanded, looking both baffled and exasperated.
"Creating a distraction," Quill replied with a shrug, continuing to dance his way back toward the container. "And showing our fellow Terran here some of the finest moves Earth has to offer. You know, cultural exchange."
Hal couldn't help but laugh despite the tension of the situation. "Not bad. But your moonwalk could use some work on the heel-toe transition."
"Everyone's a critic," Quill sighed dramatically.
Hal reinforced his dome, determined not to let them escape with whatever was in that container. "Nobody's leaving until I've verified what you're taking and who you're taking it to."
Yondu's smile turned predatory again. "See, that's where you're wrong, Lantern. Ravagers always have an exit strategy." He raised his wrist communicator. "Kraglin! Fire up the main guns and target our location!"
"Sir?" came a shocked voice over the comm. "But you're still—"
"Just do it, boy!"
From outside the colony, the massive Ravager ship that had been attached to the hull suddenly detached, its weapons systems locking onto the section where they stood—and by extension, onto its own crew members.
"You'd risk your own people?" Hal asked incredulously.
"Risk is our business," Yondu replied with a wink. "And I'm betting your fancy ring can't maintain that dome, protect the colony's integrity, AND shield yourself from our main cannons all at once. Especially not after a long trip from Oa. That ring's gotta be running low on juice by now."
He was right, Hal realized with frustration. The wormhole journey, combined with the energy expended on complex constructs, had depleted his ring faster than normal. He might be able to maintain multiple protections for a short time, but not long enough to prevent their escape if they were determined enough to fire on their own position.
The standoff lasted several tense seconds. Finally, Hal spoke. "This isn't over, Udonta. Whatever you're stealing, if it threatens my sector, I will find you."
"I'm sure you'll try," Yondu acknowledged with a tip of his head. "Just business, nothing personal. If it helps, I don't think it's gonna destroy the universe or nothin'. Client just said it was real valuable and real old."
"Real old, like billions of years old," Quill added helpfully, still bobbing to some internal rhythm, earning a glare from Yondu. "What? He's gonna find out anyway. Might as well be friendly."
"Quill, I swear, one of these days—" Yondu started.
Hal's ring pulsed again. "Energy signature analysis complete. Container holds a crystalline object of unknown origin. Composition matches fragments recovered from Sector 666 excavation sites. Guardian classification: Restricted Knowledge."
Sector 666. The massacre. The crystal was connected to the very events Abin Sur had been investigating—possibly even evidence of what really happened billions of years ago.
"Last chance," Hal warned, his resolve hardening. "Leave the container, and I'll let you go without pursuit."
Yondu's expression suggested he was actually considering the offer, but a series of explosions along the colony's outer hull indicated the arrival of heavier Xandarian reinforcement units. The Ravager captain made his decision.
"Fire!" he ordered into his communicator.
The ship outside unleashed a barrage—not at the dome directly, but at the colony's structural supports, creating a cascade of failures in the life support systems. The shockwave disrupted Hal's concentration enough that the dome faltered momentarily. In that instant, Yondu whistled again, his Yaka arrow shooting upward to activate some kind of transport beam.
"Hey," Quill called to Hal as the beam began to materialize around him, his cocky demeanor momentarily dropping. "For real though, it's good to know I'm not the only human out here. Maybe we can grab a beer sometime when you're not trying to arrest us?"
The casual overture struck Hal with surprising force—this man had been separated from his homeworld, from humanity, since childhood. For all his bravado, there must be a profound loneliness in that experience.
"I'd like that," Hal found himself saying, genuinely meaning it despite the circumstances. "Stay alive out there, Quill."
"You too, Green Lantern," Quill replied with a two-fingered salute, sliding his headphones back on as the transport beam enveloped him along with Yondu and the other Ravagers. The container rose with them, secured to a hovering platform that ascended into the ship's cargo bay.
The last thing Hal heard before the beam completed its transport was the faint sound of Michael Jackson starting up again from Quill's Walkman.
Hal launched himself through the colony's outer hull, intent on pursuit, but the Ravager vessel was already accelerating away from the colony, its engines flaring with a technology that allowed faster-than-light jumps from surprisingly close proximity.
"Ring, tracking," Hal ordered, streaking after them.
"Attempting. Warning: Jump signature scrambled. Multiple false trajectories detected."
Before Hal could close the distance, the ship vanished into a swirling vortex of energy—a jump gate that collapsed seconds later, leaving no trace of their destination.
"Damn it," Hal muttered, hovering in space as he scanned for any residual energy signatures that might indicate their course. Nothing. The Ravagers had clearly dealt with pursuit before and had countermeasures specifically designed to thwart tracking.
The colony behind him was in chaos—breaches in multiple sections threatened to destroy the entire facility, life support systems were failing, and emergency teams were struggling to contain the damage. Whatever the Ravagers had stolen, it had been worth a precisely targeted strike against a heavily defended Nova Corps installation.
Yet as Hal returned to the colony to assist with emergency protocols, he found his thoughts returning to Peter Quill. Another human, out among the stars decades before Earth had achieved anything approaching true spaceflight. Was his presence connected to what Abin Sur had discovered about Earth? About its role in the coming crisis?
And what about the artifact itself? Something ancient from Sector 666, something the Nova Corps had been studying, something valuable enough for the Ravagers to risk a direct assault on a protected facility.
A Nova Corps officer approached as Hal reinforced a buckling bulkhead. The man's uniform identified him as the colony's security chief, though his insignia and several limbs suggested he was Rigellian rather than Xandarian.
"Green Lantern," the officer acknowledged with a formal nod. "Appreciate the assistance. Xandarian reinforcements won't arrive for another three hours."
"What were they after?" Hal asked, maintaining his concentration on the structural supports. "The Ravagers don't typically hit Nova Corps facilities."
The security chief's expression darkened. "That's classified information, even for the Corps." At Hal's pointed look, he sighed and continued, "But seeing as you just saved half our personnel... it was an artifact recovered during a deep space expedition to the borders of Sector 666."
"Sector 666?" Hal repeated, though he'd already suspected as much from his ring's analysis. "What was a Nova Corps mining colony doing with artifacts from that region?"
"It wasn't just a mining operation," the officer admitted. "This is a joint research facility. The Nova Corps has been investigating anomalous energy signatures from that sector for decades. Recently, the signatures have increased in frequency and intensity."
"Connected to the Red Lanterns," Hal surmised.
The officer nodded grimly. "That's our working theory. The artifact was discovered by an exploratory mission four standard years ago—a crystalline object that predates any known civilization. Our scientists believe it contains information—possibly even recordings—from before the... incident... in Sector 666."
Four years ago. Right around the time Abin Sur began his investigation of the Blackest Night prophecy. The timing couldn't be coincidental.
"I need to see your research data," Hal said. "This connects to something I'm investigating."
The security chief hesitated. "That would require authorization from Nova Prime herself. The relationship between our organizations is... complicated."
"I don't have time for jurisdictional disputes," Hal replied, his patience wearing thin. "People are dying across multiple sectors. If your research has any information that might help us understand what we're facing, I need it now."
Before the officer could respond, Hal's ring pulsed with another alert—this one more urgent than the last.
"Multiple space-time disruptions detected in Sector 2814. Pattern matches Red Lantern energy signatures. Coordinates indicate Earth's solar system."
Earth. His homeworld. Under direct threat.
"I need to go," Hal told the Rigellian abruptly.