“And those who make sure that day never comes?”
Evil Star smiled. “You make it seem like you’re not tempted. But I know your kind. You possess power. And those who possess power always want to possess more of it.”
“Not always,” John said. “I have all the power I need.”
Evil Star laughed. “That’s what I said once. But I was wrong. You can never have enough power.”
“You know the problem with you?” John asked. “You’ve forgotten about the important things in life. You don’t remember what it feels like to have the love and respect of other people.”
“I’d rather have their fear,” Evil Star told him. “It’s a great deal more satisfying.”
“For you maybe,” John said. “But not for me. I wouldn’t trade what I’ve got for anything in the universe.”
Evil Star’s mouth twisted and he made a sound of disgust. Obviously, his patience had come to an end.
“Then you’re a fool,” he said. “It’s just a pity you won’t live long enough to realize it.”
And he began blasting away at the invisible shield between them.
At first, John wasn’t concerned. He knew how powerful the shield was, how much punishment it could take.
Then Evil Star began to turn it up a notch.
Brilliant, blinding waves of light flowed from his starband, bludgeoning the barrier with the fierce stellar energy accumulated in it, hitting the barrier with so much force that it shivered—and then, amazingly, began to buckle under the onslaught.
John found himself floating backward, uncertain now that the shield would hold against Evil Star after all. His right hand, where he wore his ring, clenched into a fist.
That’s when he noticed something new about his enemy’s starband. There was a raised strip where before the metal had been smooth. It looked like Evil Star had improved the starband—made it even more powerful than before.
Suddenly, the tyrant desisted. His starband stopped pouring out energy. And he smiled, letting John know that he could have pierced the barrier if he had really wanted to.
Turning his back on John, Evil Star sailed off into the darkness. As Escraya’s champion watched him go, his heart sank.
He had planted the seeds of rebellion. He had nurtured them. But now John was afraid they wouldn’t have time to grow. He needed to try a new approach or watch Escraya fall to Evil Star—and make the tyrant’s victory complete.
Maleen had listened carefully as John sat in their dining area and related his encounter with Evil Star. “Then we’re not as safe as we thought we were,” she concluded.
John, who was sitting hunched over the table, didn’t answer her question directly. As she had come to understand, he didn’t like to dwell on the negative side of a situation.
“We need to come up with a way to beat him,” he said. “And quickly.”
Maleen frowned. It was a lot easier said than done. “He has the energy of the stars at his disposal. How can you beat someone with all that power?”
The Green Lantern sat back in his chair and shook his head. “I don’t know. I—”
She looked at him. “John?”
His expression was changing. He was starting to look confident again, excited. “You take his power away.”
“Take away the power of the stars?” Maleen asked.
John turned to face her. “I need your help.”
“Ask,” she said, “and it’s yours.”
He took her hand and held it in his own. Then he told her what he needed.
There was a small, wooded range of mountains northeast of Escrayana. John sat on its highest peak and searched the inky black sky.
It wasn’t long before he saw the glow of Evil Star’s starband. Of course, the tyrant could have muted it as he had before and approached under cover of darkness. But this time, he wanted John to know that he was coming.
His Starlings were trailing behind him, partially illuminated by the starband’s soft light. John tried to imagine what it was like to serve so blindly, to depend so utterly on the power of another for one’s existence.
Let those who worship Evil’s might . . .
Once again, he seemed to remember a phrase, but nothing more. And again, he couldn’t recall where he had heard it.
John felt that if he thought about it hard enough, the answer would come to him. Maybe someday he would have the chance to do that. But at the moment, he had something a little more urgent on his hands.
Evil Star came to a halt less than ten yards from John, his blue cape billowing about him. His Starlings, on the other hand, moved to surround John the way a pack of wolves might surround a lost sheep. Forming a ring around him, they cut him off from any possibility of escape.
John was all too vulnerable out here in the midst of his enemies, without Escraya’s shields to offer him protection. But he couldn’t have accomplished anything if he had remained behind the energy barrier.
And if his plan failed . . . and it cost him his life? He resolved not to think about that. He had to concentrate on succeeding, now more than ever.
“So,” said Evil Star, “you’ve reconsidered my offer.”
“That’s right,” John told him.
The tyrant’s eyes narrowed in the slits of his mask. “Just like that?”
“I don’t blame you for being skeptical,” John said. “I was pretty determined not to join you.”
Evil Star drifted nearer to him. “What changed your mind?”
John shrugged. “You did.”
His enemy studied him. “You mean the wisdom of my words finally sank in?”
That’s right, John thought. Keep coming closer.
“It wasn’t that,” he told Evil Star. “I saw what you can do. I can’t beat you—and I don’t want to die trying.”
Closer, John thought. You’re almost where I want you.
“Before I can trust you,” said the conqueror, “you’ll have to demonstrate your loyalty to me—by destroying one of the rabble-rousers you set free. Are you prepared to do that?”
“If I have to,” John replied.
Evil Star folded his arms across his chest. “Really? You would do that to your allies? I would have expected some reluctance.”
He’s no fool, John thought. But he was getting close enough for John to see the stubble on the tyrant’s unshaven chin—close enough, almost, for John to reach out and touch him.
“Are you sure you’re not lying to me?” Evil Star asked. “Laying some sort of trap, perhaps?”
“As a matter of fact,” John said, “I am.”
Before the tyrant could react, the ground under his feet exploded and a piece of flexible sheet metal erupted to envelop him. It looked like a giant Venus flytrap snapping up an unsuspecting fly.
But a Venus flytrap operated on its own. The piece of metal was driven by the power of John’s ring.
Too late, Evil Star raised his right arm, attempting to vaporize the metal with a blast of stellar power. But by then, John had already used his ring’s energy to clamp the sheet around Evil Star, completely encasing him in it.
It hadn’t been hard to get the flexible metal. It was the same stuff Maleen had used to hold their food the other day. All John had had to do was find the factory in Escrayana that produced it and obtain a large, uncut sheet.
It seemed absurd that so humble a material would foil the great and powerful Evil Star. And yet, its opacity, strength, and flexibility stood at the core of John’s plan.
After all, the tyrant’s might came from the stars. And John had just cut him off from his only source of power.
But how long would it take for Evil Star to feel that loss? A second? A minute? An hour?
John had barely asked himself that question when his ring started giving him trouble. All of a sudden it was becoming harder for him to dredge power out of it, harder for him to make it carry out his instructions.
What’s going on? he thought.
John didn’t remem
ber how he had made the ring, so he didn’t know how it worked. But for some reason it was threatening to conk out on him, and at the worst possible time.
If he let up on Evil Star for even a second, the tyrant would burst free of his sheet metal prison. And John couldn’t allow that—not when all of Aoran was depending on him.
Evil Star strained hard against the metal, using muscle and energy alike. Holding him in check was like holding back an avalanche. But Escraya’s champion didn’t give in. He gritted his teeth and forced his ring to keep up the battle.
Evil Star grew hot with pent-up energy as if he were himself a tiny sun. But John’s ring drew the heat away from the metal and released it harmlessly into the air.
Come on, he thought, urging on his ring as well as himself. Just a little longer . . .
And little by little, to John’s great relief, the tyrant’s efforts began to diminish. He seemed to weaken, his energy reserves spent in futile attempts to blast himself free.
Finally, he stopped struggling altogether. His power and the heat he had generated were all gone. He was as powerless to move in his metal confinement as any other Aoranite would have been.
It was then that the Starlings began to fall from the sky.
Evil Star’s power source had been the stars, but the Starlings’ source was Evil Star. Deprived of the energy and guidance with which he supplied them, they couldn’t remain aloft. They couldn’t even move. All they could do was plummet like huge, blue and purple hailstones.
John watched until the last Starling hit the ground and lay still. Then he pulled away some of the sheet metal covering Evil Star.
Underneath it, the would-be conqueror was pale, drained of all his strength. Barely conscious, in fact. He couldn’t even put up a fight as John slipped the starband off his arm.
Without the starband Evil Star was just a man, and an exhausted one at that. With what seemed like the last of his power, John gathered him up in a green bubble and took him back to Escraya as his prisoner.
Word of the Green Lantern’s victory had spread across Escraya with the suddenness of a spring rainstorm.
John Stewart had flown above Escrayana with the tyrant in his arms, causing people to point at him and cry out in joy and disbelief. Then he had deposited Evil Star in a building where he could be kept under lock and key, a prisoner of the people he had intended to make his prisoners.
But even before the Escrayans saw any of this, they knew that their champion had prevailed—because with Evil Star’s starband deactivated, the long-lost stars had winked on again like tiny lights in the sky.
Now there were people all over the place, as if Escrayana was in the midst of a great festival. The streets were choked with revelers. And they were all cheering, all calling out the name of the man who had saved them from a future in chains.
John Stewart, champion of Aoran.
Standing on the balcony that projected from Agrayn’s apartment, Jerred nodded with approval. After all, this was what he and the rest of the Council had hoped for. This was the result they had so desperately desired when they called on the secrets of the ancients and summoned Earth’s Green Lantern.
Suddenly, the cheers of the crowd grew even louder. A moment later, Jerred saw why. The hero had appeared on a balcony of another tower to acknowledge his people’s gratitude.
He waved once, then vanished from sight. After all, John wasn’t a glory hound. In his mind, he was just a man who had done his job.
Agrayn, who was standing beside Jerred, watched the cheering crowds as well. But the councilor wasn’t celebrating the way the people down below were.
Jerred had an idea why. After all, he was a little worried himself.
“We can’t keep him here,” Jerred said.
“No,” Agrayn agreed. “We can’t. He hasn’t yet begun to see the gaps in what we’ve told him, but he will. And when he does—”
“He’ll realize that we’ve deceived him.”
“Exactly. And having realized it, he may turn on us. Besides,” said Agrayn, “this isn’t John Stewart’s world. We borrowed him for a specific purpose. Now it’s our responsibility to return him.”
Jerred knew that his fellow councilor was right—on both counts. The Green Lantern had obligations elsewhere. He had a life elsewhere. It was wrong to make him live the lie they had constructed any longer than was absolutely necessary.
“There is every reason to send him back where he came from,” Agrayn added thoughtfully.
Jerred’s thoughts turned to Maleen. Despite her promise to him, despite his hopes to the contrary, it was clear that she had fallen in love with John Stewart.
“Every reason but one . . .” he said wistfully.
Maleen gazed at the gaudy sprinkling of stars spread across the dark velvet of the universe. They were so beautiful. She felt privileged just to be able to look at them.
Had they always twinkled that way? she asked herself. Had their light always had that little blue tinge to it?
She couldn’t remember. But then, when had she ever really studied the stars? When had she stopped to appreciate them? Like everyone else on her world, Maleen had taken the stars for granted . . . until they were gone.
“Maleen?” said a deep voice, intruding on her thoughts.
A moment later, she felt John’s arms around her. Normally, she would have enjoyed the feel of them without reservation.
But her uncle had spoken to her earlier in the day. Agrayn and the Council wanted to return John to Earth.
No, she thought. This is his home. With me.
But how could she oppose the Council’s wishes? They were the appointed governors of Escraya. Their word was law.
“Yes?” she said, managing a smile.
“My ring’s still giving me trouble,” John told her. “At least for now. As soon as I figure out how I made it, I’ll probably remember how to get it working again.”
“Probably,” Maleen echoed, though she knew it wouldn’t happen.
“You know,” said John, “I was thinking . . . Evil Star may not be a threat to us any longer, but we’ve still got to cope with all the damage he did.”
She nodded. “The government buildings . . . and the communications networks. But the nations that own them will take care of them in time.”
“I’m sure they will,” said John. “But I’m not talking about buildings and networks. What I’m talking about is the way we Aoranites see ourselves. We seem so timid, so happy just to have survived.”
“And we shouldn’t be that way?” Maleen asked.
“We should try to be more than that,” he said. He pointed to the lights that had been restored to the sky. “We should reach for the stars. Life isn’t about acceptance. It’s about struggle.”
Maleen turned to look at him. She had felt the same way about her people—even before the threat of Evil Star reared its head.
Funny, she thought, isn’t it? The Aoranites’ levels of knowledge and accomplishment had diminished ever since the ancients’ defeat at the hands of the Guardians.
And now it was an unsuspecting agent of the Guardians offering them new hope.
“You have a plan?” Maleen asked optimistically.
John shrugged his broad shoulders. “Not a plan, exactly. Just a few ideas. For instance . . . a space program.”
“You mean interplanetary flight?”
“Why not?” he asked.
She frowned. “It’s been a long time since the nations of the world got together on anything that ambitious.”
“They don’t have to get together on it. It can begin right here in Escraya. Then, when the other nations hear about it, they’ll want to have space programs of their own.”
“But,” Maleen said, “Escraya doesn’t have any facilities for making spacecraft. And even if we did, we don’t have anyone with the expertise to design them.”
“Then we’ll make facilities,” John told her, undaunted by her comment. “And we’ll develop the expertise.”
She sighed. “It won’t be easy.”
“It’s not supposed to be,” he replied. “It’s supposed to be difficult. But that’s what makes it worth doing.”
Maleen couldn’t help smiling a little. Jerred, Agrayn, and Darmac weren’t the only wise men on Aoran.
A space program, she thought, reconsidering the notion. Right here in Escraya.
Not so long ago, she wouldn’t have believed that anyone could accomplish that. But John had beaten the seemingly all-powerful Evil Star. If he could do that, maybe he could start a space program there as well.
Providing, of course, that he had the time. But he didn’t, Maleen thought, a lump forming in her throat. John wasn’t aware of it, but his stay on Aoran was quickly coming to an end.
Despite her efforts at self-control, she found a tear streaking her cheek. She brushed it away.
“Why are you crying?” John asked, a note of concern in his voice.
“For joy,” Maleen told him, lying as skillfully as she could. “I’m crying for joy.”
John was walking at a leisurely pace along the sun-warmed streets of Escrayana, on his way to present his ideas to the Council. But his mind was elsewhere.
It was in the starless skies he had seen from his window. It was in the darkness that had seemed destined to go on forever.
Phrases had welled up out of that darkness, coming to him out of nowhere. He had put them aside before, knowing he had to stay focused and alert. But now he could return his attention to them—try to figure out where he had heard them and what they meant. In fact, he had been doing that all morning, albeit without success.
Had he heard them in a poem? In a speech? Or maybe in a song of some kind?
“In brightest day,” John muttered out loud.
What came next?
“In darkest night.”
So far, so good.
“No evil shall escape my sight.”
And the next part?
“Let those who worship evil’s might . . .”
For some reason, he couldn’t get any further. But there was more. He could feel it in his bones.
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