A.N. I've started a new story. The origin story of my ROB, Nekros. It's titled 'NEKROS: Nobody Ever Knew the Real Omniversal Sovereign'. A multiverse crossover type fic, so I am going to need support for it. If any of you are interested in Star Wars, that's the first arc I'm doing over there so please...
...show this generous author some support and love will you? :)
Also, I had to split this chapter in two...again.
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Chapter 9
-General POV-
The Watchtower's observation gallery offered a view that few places on Earth could rival, though Bardock suspected that the novelty would wear off considerably faster for someone who had spent years travelling between worlds. Beyond the reinforced glass, the station's artificial garden curved around a section of the habitat ring, its carefully maintained greenery arranged beneath broad panels that simulated sunlight. Trees stood in neat clusters beside a winding stream, and small patches of flowers brightened the otherwise sterile surroundings, their colours striking against the blackness of space beyond the glass.
It was an admirable attempt to make a home out of a place suspended hundreds of miles above a planet, even if the garden lacked the scent of damp soil after rain and the warmth of a real breeze passing through leaves. Bardock stood with his arms folded, his tail moving lazily behind him as he studied the garden for a moment before turning his attention to the two men accompanying him. Both wore the familiar green uniforms of the Green Lantern Corps, although their bearing differed enough that even someone unfamiliar with the League might have guessed they approached problems from rather different directions.
"So, have either of you found anything?" Bardock asked, his voice carrying the mild impatience of someone who had been waiting longer than he thought necessary. "I gave you the locations where Trunks and the Dragon Ball might have emerged, along with the disturbances recorded around the time I arrived. I know this station has more instruments than most planets have buildings, so I was hoping you might have something more useful to report than another list of places where nothing happened."
He glanced between them, watching for the particular expression that meant an explanation was being prepared to soften an unhelpful answer. Hal Jordan, leaning against the edge of a console with his arms crossed, responded with an apologetic half-smile, while John Stewart remained upright and composed, his attention fixed on the data displayed in the green holographic projection before them. Neither looked embarrassed by the lack of progress, though Bardock had begun to suspect that the task was proving more difficult than they had expected when they first agreed to help.
"We've covered the sectors you identified, cross-referenced the energy readings with the Watchtower's records, and asked the Corps to flag anything unusual passing through their monitored regions." John explained, enlarging a cluster of star systems with a gesture of his ring. "There have been several unexplained readings, but nothing we can connect confidently to the event you described. Some were ordinary stellar activity, others came from equipment that needed maintenance, and a few were far enough outside the recorded range that we couldn't get a useful reading without sending someone to investigate. We have people looking into those, but I don't want to tell you we've found something when all we've got is a possibility. We also need you to clarify exactly what we're searching for. You gave us the names, but your universe's terminology doesn't necessarily tell us what the object looks like, how it behaves, or what sort of energy signature it produces. If we're going to search an area this large, a more precise description will save us a great deal of time."
Bardock considered that reasonable, although the reminder that the search might involve a substantial portion of the surrounding universe did little to improve his mood. He had not expected the Green Lanterns to produce Trunks and the Dragon Ball within an hour of asking, but he had hoped that a civilization capable of constructing a space station with its own garden might possess instruments suited to finding a single object drifting through the stars.
Then again, the object in question was no ordinary artefact, and Trunks was a Time Patroller who had spent much of his life moving through history, where conventional tracking methods were liable to prove useless. Bardock unfolded his arms and approached the holographic display, pointing towards an empty patch of space between two marked systems.
"The Dragon Ball should be the easier of the two to identify, at least once you know what you're looking at. It's an enormous sphere, orange-gold in colour, and it radiates its own light. The surface is smooth, with four red stars set inside it, and the stars remain facing forwards no matter which angle you observe the sphere from. It isn't a trick of the light or some arrangement of markings on a rotating surface; the stars retain their apparent orientation regardless of how the object is viewed."
Hal straightened away from the console, his eyebrows rising as he regarded Bardock with renewed interest. "You're telling me the thing is a giant glowing ball with four red stars in it, and that the stars don't appear to move when you look at it from different angles? I suppose that's distinctive enough, but how giant are we talking? Because I've seen some pretty ridiculous things out there, and 'giant' can mean anything from a moon-sized piece of machinery to a structure that makes a planet look like a marble. I don't want to send a patrol chasing a glowing asteroid because somebody spotted an unusual reflection on its surface."
Bardock gave him a flat look, not entirely sure whether the question was meant seriously, though Hal's expression suggested that he genuinely wanted a measurement before committing himself to a search.
"Approximately thirty-seven thousand kilometres in diameter." Bardock replied. "A little over that, according to the measurements made by the sage Zuno from my universe. If you find something that size, orange-gold, glowing, and bearing four red stars, I would appreciate it if you told me before you decide to take a closer look with a mining laser."
Hal's mouth opened briefly before he looked across at John, whose expression had become considerably more thoughtful as he entered the measurement into the display.
"Thirty-seven thousand kilometres," Hal repeated, with the careful emphasis of a man ensuring that his companion had heard the same absurdity he had. "For reference, that's several times the diameter of Earth, and we're supposed to find it before it drifts into a system that might mistake it for a small celestial body. All right, then. I take back the part about an asteroid, because an object of that size is going to stand out on a decent survey. Assuming it doesn't somehow conceal itself, alter its appearance, or possess some peculiar property that makes our equipment read it as something else."
Bardock shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the possibility that an object capable of granting wishes might be difficult to locate. "That particular one has been well hidden before. It floated in neutral space between my universe and the next one over for centuries. Asteroids collided with it, eventually covering it in a rocky surface. It was by sheer coincidence that my friends found it again. But nevertheless, it has been found before, and it can be found again. The problem is that I don't know where exactly it crossed over, and I can't sense it from here. If I could, I wouldn't have asked you to search for it."
John nodded once, accepting the explanation without further argument, then brought up another blank section of the display. "And Trunks?" he asked. "You said he was travelling with you when the breach opened, but you haven't given us much to work with beyond his name. Is he human? Alien? Some kind of energy-based life-form? If he's capable of moving between universes, we need to know whether he can survive in open space and whether he has any means of signalling his position."
Bardock's expression changed subtly at the mention of his missing companion, the humour leaving his face as he considered how best to describe someone whose appearance was familiar enough to him that he had never thought of it as something that needed explaining.
"He's a Saiyan hybrid, half Saiyan and half human, and he looks human enough that most people wouldn't think twice about him if he walked past them on a street. He's fairly tall, lean but well-built, with blue eyes and light purple hair, although the colour can look closer to lavender depending on the light. He wears a long black coat with a fur-lined collar over an olive-green sweater, matching trousers, and brown lace-up boots. He's also armed with a sword, usually carried on his back, so if you find a man dressed like a soldier from an old war film who can split a spacecraft in half, you may have found the person I'm looking for."
Hal gave him a sideways glance. "That description seems a little more specific than the one you gave us before. You might have mentioned the sword-wielding time traveller with the military coat when we started."
Bardock turned his head towards him, his expression remaining entirely serious despite the faint amusement in his eyes. "I thought the name and the fact that he was travelling with me would have been enough to establish that he wasn't an ordinary civilian. Besides, if you encountered Trunks, you would probably notice him before you needed to identify his clothing. He tends to take his responsibilities seriously, and he is not the sort to ignore trouble simply because he happens to be somewhere unfamiliar. If he has landed on a populated world, there's a good chance he will have already involved himself in whatever problems he finds there."
John considered this, then adjusted the search parameters to include reports of unexplained disturbances, sightings of armed strangers, and unusual energy events across the sectors under their jurisdiction. "That gives us something else to work with. We'll have the Corps keep an eye out for both of them, and I'll ask our people to flag anything that matches the descriptions rather than filtering everything through conventional threat assessments. If either one appears, we'll make contact before the situation becomes complicated."
"Appreciated," Bardock said, inclining his head. "And if you find the Dragon Ball, don't try to dismantle it, move it into a containment field, or test how much energy it can withstand. It is an artefact of considerable importance, and I would rather not have to explain to the people who demand it back why someone here decided to see whether it could survive being taken apart."
Hal's brows rose again, this time with something approaching disbelief. "You know, most people tell us not to let dangerous objects fall into the wrong hands. You're the first person I've met who has warned us not to take one apart before we've even found it."
Bardock looked back at the glowing projection, where the enormous sphere had been represented by a simple model no larger than a football. "If you knew what it could do, you would understand why I don't want anyone experimenting with it. When joined with its siblings, it can grant wishes beyond what most people in this universe would consider possible. But even separated from the rest, someone with the know-how could harvest the divine energy it radiates for catastrophic misdeeds. I don't intend to leave something like that drifting through unfamiliar space, particularly when I don't know who else might be looking for it."
The humour in Hal's face faded, and John gave a short nod, clearly recognising that Bardock's concern was not merely possessiveness over a relic from home. The Green Lanterns promised to continue the search, and John began sending the revised descriptions through the Corps' communication network while Hal reviewed the sectors they had already covered.
Bardock remained beside the observation window, looking out over the garden as the conversation moved from the immediate search to the practical question of how long he intended to remain aboard the Watchtower. He had been coming and going from the station with increasing frequency, sometimes to exchange information, sometimes to consult its databases, and sometimes simply because it was easier to find someone willing to talk in the League's headquarters than it was to wander around Earth looking for a useful occupation.
He had also discovered that the League's welcome was not quite as uncomplicated as Superman's had been. Some members treated him as a potential ally, others watched him as though his next casual movement might tear open the fabric of reality, and Batman seemed determined to establish exactly where Bardock was at any given moment whenever he ventured beyond the station's immediate vicinity. John appeared to have been considering the same matter, for he turned away from the console and regarded Bardock with the measured expression he used when discussing an operational concern rather than making casual conversation.
"There is something else you should know. Batman isn't particularly happy about you travelling off into other systems on your own, especially when we haven't established how your abilities interact with the local environment or whether anything from your universe might follow you back. He doesn't have a problem with you going places, exactly, but he'd prefer to know where you're going, what you're looking for, and how you're planning to get back. From his perspective, an unfamiliar individual who can cross interstellar distances without a ship and who possesses enough power to destroy a planet is a security concern, regardless of whether that individual has been helpful so far."
Bardock slowly turned towards him, the movement of his tail becoming a little less languid as his patience met another reminder of Batman's interest in keeping him under observation.
"Then Batman can learn to live with being disappointed," Bardock replied, his tone calm but unmistakably firm. "I'm not a child who needs someone following him around to make sure he doesn't wander too far from home. I'm a grown man, and I've spent more time travelling through dangerous places than most people on this station have spent alive. I know how to look after myself, and if something comes along that I can't handle, I'll deal with it as best I can. I understand why your detective wants to know what I'm doing, but there is a difference between asking for information and expecting me to report every time I decide to leave the planet. I have agreed to cooperate with the League, not to become one of Batman's projects, and I don't intend to spend the rest of my time here asking permission to take a walk."
Hal looked down briefly, concealing a smile behind the movement, while John remained composed enough not to encourage the argument, though the slight lift of his eyebrows suggested that he understood Bardock's frustration.
"I'm not saying you need to report every step you take," John replied. "I'm saying that if you're searching for an object with that kind of power, or following a lead that might take you into territory we don't know much about, letting someone know where you're going would make it easier for us to help if something goes wrong. Batman has a habit of preparing for the worst possible outcome, and your arrival has given him quite a few possibilities to consider. You might not like the way he approaches it, but he has a responsibility to think about what happens if you're wrong about a situation, or if someone else decides to use your presence as an opportunity to do something dangerous."
Bardock listened without interrupting, his gaze drifting briefly towards the display where the search had begun expanding across the star map. He could recognise the sense in John's argument without agreeing that Batman's preferred solution was necessarily the right one, and he had no desire to turn an ordinary conversation into another dispute over whether the League could trust him to make his own decisions.
Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps approaching along the gallery drew his attention towards the entrance. Wonder Woman emerged from the adjoining corridor, dressed in her usual armour, her dark hair falling over her shoulders as she glanced towards the Green Lanterns and then at Bardock. She had the relaxed bearing of someone who had finished one engagement and was on her way to another, though the way she carried herself never quite lost the readiness of a trained warrior.
Bardock's expression brightened with genuine interest, and he turned towards her before John could resume his explanation. "Diana, good timing. I was just asking these two whether they've managed to find anything useful, and so far they've given me a lot of very polite ways of saying no. Since we're all here, I was wondering whether you'd like to train with me for a while. We haven't had a proper chance to spar since the last time we were on the Watchtower, and I would be interested to see how your technique has developed after our previous encounters." Diana regarded him with an amused expression, as though she had anticipated that sooner or later his restlessness would lead him to challenge someone.
"I would be happy to train with you, Bardock, but not at present," she answered, her voice warm without being indulgent. "I have a few matters to attend to before the evening is over, and I would prefer that we arrange a time when neither of us is likely to be interrupted by a report of an emergency. Besides, I have heard that you have been spending quite a lot of time aboard the Watchtower without finding anything particularly useful to occupy yourself. If you are looking for a worthwhile way to spend the next hour, perhaps you should return to Mount Justice. The Team are due to begin one of their regular combat sessions with Black Canary shortly, and I suspect that your presence would be of interest to them. Dinah is an accomplished instructor, and the younger heroes could benefit from having someone with your experience observe their training, provided you are willing to offer criticism without turning the entire session into a demonstration of how easily you can defeat them." She paused, looking at him with the patient expectation of someone who knew that his first response would probably be an objection, then added, "You might also find it useful to see how our younger members are taught to approach a fight. Raw power is not the only thing that determines the outcome of a battle, and Dinah has spent years teaching people who cannot rely on having the greatest strength in the room."
Bardock's expression became contemplative, though not quite convinced. He had heard enough about Black Canary to know that she was a capable fighter, and he had no particular reason to doubt Diana's judgement, but the idea of spending an afternoon watching a group of inexperienced heroes practise techniques he had known for decades did not immediately appeal to him.
"I don't doubt that she's competent," he said, "but I'm not sure what I could learn from watching people who are still trying to establish the basics. I have spent a long time learning how to fight, and I have trained with people who could kill me if I became careless. I would rather spar with someone who can challenge me than spend an hour standing around while a group of teenagers practise their footwork. If you think there's something specific I should pay attention to, then tell me what it is, and I'll consider it."
Diana's smile widened a little, though she made no attempt to argue that he would necessarily find the session challenging. Instead, she folded her arms and regarded him with the patient confidence of someone accustomed to dealing with warriors who believed they had already mastered more than they actually had.
"Perhaps you should attend before deciding there is nothing for you to learn," she said. "You have spoken to me at length about the importance of technique, and you have criticised the way some of our heroes rely too heavily upon their natural gifts. It would be rather inconsistent of you to dismiss a training session simply because the participants are younger or less powerful than yourself. Dinah understands the limits of the human body better than most people I know, and she has developed ways to teach combat that do not depend upon overwhelming an opponent with strength. If you truly wish to help the League become more effective, you should be willing to examine the methods we use rather than assuming that the answer must always be found in your own experience. You may discover that you have something to offer them, but you may also find that there are things worth observing before you decide what they need to be taught."
Her words were not a rebuke so much as an invitation to reconsider, and Bardock could tell that she was deliberately leaving him room to accept without making the decision feel like a concession. True warrior diplomacy at its finest. Perhaps he could learn something after all.
Hal pushed himself away from the console, clearly enjoying the direction the conversation had taken. "She's got a point, you know. You might actually be surprised by what Canary can do. I've watched her put Conner on his back more times than I can count, and he's not exactly short on strength or durability. She knows how to use timing, leverage, and the fact that most people who are stronger than her assume they can get away with being careless. You might not think much of a training session until you see someone like her take apart a fighter who could send her through a wall if he landed a clean hit. It's one thing to be able to hit hard enough to knock someone across a room, but it's another to make sure you never give them the opportunity to hit you in the first place." John gave Hal a brief glance, but did not contradict him, and Diana's expression suggested that she approved of the example, even if she would have chosen a more tactful way of introducing it.
Bardock's gaze shifted towards Hal, and the amusement left his face as he considered the name the Green Lantern had mentioned. "Anyone can beat the clone," he replied, his voice lower and distinctly less friendly than it had been a moment earlier. "Conner has strength, speed, and durability, but he is still learning how to use them properly. I've seen plenty of fighters who could overpower an opponent and still lose because they had no idea what to do once their first attack failed. If Canary can knock him down repeatedly, then either she's very good at exploiting his mistakes or he hasn't done enough to correct them. Probably both."
The words were blunt, and Hal's smile faded just enough to show that he had noticed the change in Bardock's tone, but Bardock did not elaborate on his opinion of Conner or the circumstances that had shaped it. He simply looked back towards Diana, waiting for her response.
"Conner is not a clone in the sense that you appear to mean," Diana said, her voice remaining composed, though a firmer note had entered it. "He is a young man who was created under circumstances he did not choose, and who has had to work rather hard to establish his own identity in a world that often defines him by the person whose genetic material was used to create him. His training is incomplete, certainly, but that is true of nearly everyone who is still learning. If Dinah can defeat him, it does not mean he lacks potential, nor does it make the lesson any less valuable. He is learning to recognise his weaknesses before someone exploits them in a situation where the consequences are more serious than losing a sparring match. You are entitled to your opinion of his progress, Bardock, but I would ask that you judge him by what he does with the opportunities he has been given, rather than treating his origins as a reason to dismiss him." She spoke without raising her voice, and the absence of anger made the reprimand more effective than an argument would have been.
For a moment, Bardock said nothing. His expression remained guarded, but the tension in his shoulders eased as he accepted that Diana was not going to let the conversation pass without challenging his choice of words. He had no particular attachment to Conner, nor had he spent enough time with the young man to make a serious judgement about his character, and he knew that his remark had been harsher than the situation required. He had spent much of his life around Saiyans, whose attitudes towards strength could be merciless, and even after years of living beyond their society, some of those instincts still surfaced when he encountered a fighter whose potential seemed to be held back by uncertainty or inexperience. There were few things a Saiyan hated more than an opponent with wasted potential.
"Fair enough," he said at last, his tone returning to its earlier calm. "I have no objection to him being given the chance to improve, and I wasn't suggesting that he should be blamed for the circumstances of his birth. I was talking about his fighting ability, and I admit I could have put it better. If Canary has found a way to teach him something he hasn't learned from the rest of you, then I suppose it would be worth seeing what she's doing."
Diana inclined her head, accepting the concession without pressing the matter further. "Then I shall leave you to discover that for yourself. Mount Justice is expecting the Team shortly, and I believe Dinah has planned a session that will give them all something to work on. You need not take part if you decide that observing would be more useful, but I would encourage you to speak with her before deciding what the students do or do not need. She has a great deal of experience working with young heroes, and she is unlikely to appreciate having her training methods judged before you have even seen them."
Bardock's mouth twitched at that, for he could readily imagine Black Canary taking offence at an unsolicited lecture from a man who had arrived from another universe and immediately started telling people how they should fight. The prospect was not entirely unpleasant, though it would depend on whether she treated him as a guest or as an obstacle to her lesson.
"I'll go," he said, uncrossing his arms and turning towards the gallery's exit. "If nothing else, it'll give me something to do while you two continue looking for the Dragon Ball. And if Canary really can knock Conner off his feet as often as Hal claims, I would like to see whether she's teaching him to correct his mistakes or simply making sure he remembers that she can punish them. Those are two different things, and the difference usually becomes obvious once a fighter is placed under enough pressure to forget the lesson."
Hal opened his mouth as though he intended to answer, but Bardock was already walking towards the corridor, his tail swinging behind him and his red staff resting securely at his waist. John called after him that they would contact him immediately if the search produced anything, and Bardock raised one hand in acknowledgement without turning around, leaving the two Lanterns to return to their work.
Diana watched him disappear around the corner before looking back at Hal and John. "I hope Dinah is prepared for an interesting afternoon," she remarked, the faint amusement returning to her face.
Hal let out a quiet laugh and glanced at the display, where the search for a glowing sphere larger than several Earths was still spreading across the map. "I think the real question is whether Bardock is prepared to discover that someone can teach him something without being able to knock him through a mountain." he said.
John shook his head, though his expression suggested that he was not entirely certain which of them would find the session more instructive. Outside the observation window, the artificial garden remained peaceful beneath its simulated sun, while the Watchtower continued its silent course around Earth, carrying its inhabitants towards another day in which the ordinary business of training heroes might prove unexpectedly complicated.
-+-
By the time Bardock reached the Watchtower cafeteria, the question of how he intended to spend the remainder of his afternoon had been settled by a matter considerably more pressing than the training habits of Earth's younger heroes. He was hungry, and the station happened to possess a kitchen, several vending machines, and a replicator system that could produce a respectable approximation of most meals he had encountered during his travels.
The fact that he had already eaten shortly before leaving the observation gallery did not concern him particularly, since a meal was hardly worth remembering if it failed to satisfy him, and he had spent enough time in the company of ordinary mortals to appreciate that their ideas of a proper lunch were often disappointingly modest. He entered the cafeteria to find Barry Allen seated at one of the tables with a collection of food containers spread before him, while Billy Batson occupied the opposite chair with the posture of someone who had been persuaded to attend a meeting he would much rather have avoided.
Barry spotted Bardock immediately and raised a hand in greeting, his expression brightening with the enthusiasm of a man who had just been presented with the opportunity to engage in his favourite pastime. Billy, by contrast, straightened slightly in his seat, his eyes following Bardock's approach with an attentiveness that suggested he was still not entirely comfortable being in the same room as the Saiyan.
"You're late," Barry announced, gesturing towards the empty chair beside him as Bardock approached the table. "I was beginning to think you'd found something more interesting to do than eat, which would have been a first since we started hanging out together. I've already ordered a second round, and I made sure to tell the kitchen that we were going to need enough food to feed at least a small family, because the last time I underestimated your appetite, I had to make three trips to get everything we wanted. I also thought we could try something different today, since the usual burgers and sandwiches aren't exactly challenging you anymore, so I've added pizza, fried chicken, noodles, and a few other things that seemed promising."
Bardock looked over the containers, taking in the assorted meals with an approving nod before pulling out the chair and sitting down, his tail slipping neatly around one leg of the table.
"You ordered all that before I arrived?" he asked, looking at the quantity with a faintly amused expression. "I suppose I should be grateful that you're learning, although I don't know why you bother ordering enough for two when you know perfectly well that you'll be eating for yourself by the time we're finished."
Barry put a hand to his chest as though Bardock had wounded him, though the grin on his face made it difficult to take the performance seriously. "That is a remarkably cruel way to describe the situation, considering that I have been trying very hard to keep up with you. I have a reputation to maintain, you know, and I'm sure that nobody else on this station has managed to make me feel as though I'm eating at a perfectly ordinary human pace. You're not even using your speed to get ahead of me, which is the part I find most insulting, because I can understand losing to someone who cheats, but you're sitting there eating like a normal person and somehow making everything disappear before I can finish my second plate."
Bardock reached for a burger, examined it briefly, and took a generous bite while considering Barry's complaint. "Perhaps you're accustomed to winning because nobody else has the patience to keep eating after the novelty wears off," he replied, speaking after swallowing. "You have speed enough to make the meal disappear before anyone notices you've started, but that doesn't necessarily mean your stomach can keep pace with mine. If you want to beat me, you'll have to find a way to make up the difference, because I don't intend to slow down simply to protect your pride."
Billy glanced from one man to the other, then down at the table, where the empty containers from their previous rounds had begun to form a disorderly wall around the plates still waiting to be cleared. The cafeteria had been reasonably tidy when he arrived, and the table had been clean enough that he had placed his elbows on it without thinking, but the sheer quantity of food the two men had consumed since then was becoming difficult to reconcile with the fact that neither appeared remotely uncomfortable.
A growing collection of empty burger boxes occupied the space beside Barry's chair, while a considerably larger assortment of containers surrounded Bardock's place, with several stacked trays and paper bags already pushed beneath the table to make room for the next delivery. Billy had seen superheroes perform feats that would have been considered impossible by almost anyone else, but he still found something deeply unsettling about watching a man who could destroy a planet consume his way through a mountain of lunch with the same casual concentration that another person might bring to reading a newspaper.
"You know Batman is going to have something to say about this, right?" he asked, drawing both men's attention towards him. "I don't know what the Watchtower spends on food every month, but I can't imagine that they planned their budget around one person eating enough to supply an entire cafeteria."
Bardock looked at the containers piled around his chair, then towards Billy, whose expression suggested that he expected the answer to be considerably more responsible than anything he had heard so far.
"Batman is a billionaire, isn't he?" Bardock asked, returning his attention to the remaining food. "I imagine he can afford to restock a kitchen without suffering a financial crisis, particularly when he spends so much money on vehicles, weapons, computers, and whatever other equipment he uses to frighten criminals into surrendering. If the League cannot afford to feed the people who work for it, then perhaps the detective should reconsider his priorities before he starts complaining about the cost of a few meals."
Barry laughed so suddenly that he nearly inhaled a mouthful of soda, forcing him to set the cup down while he recovered, and Billy stared at Bardock with the expression of someone who had just witnessed a stranger casually suggest that the solution to a problem was to ask Batman for more money.
"That's not really the point," Billy protested, although his objection lacked much of its earlier confidence. "Just because someone can afford something doesn't mean you should waste it. Besides, Batman doesn't pay for everything personally, and I'm pretty sure the Watchtower has rules about what people are allowed to do with its supplies. There are other people who eat here, and if you keep clearing out the kitchen every time you visit, eventually somebody is going to arrive looking for lunch and discover that you've eaten the entire day's supply."
"I don't waste food," Bardock replied, with the mild offence of someone whose conduct had been questioned on grounds he considered entirely unreasonable. "I order what I intend to eat, and I eat what I order. If anything, I'm considerably more considerate than people who fill their plates and then leave half of it behind because they suddenly decide they aren't hungry anymore. The food doesn't disappear into the floor simply because I've finished with it, either; someone can collect the containers, clean the table, and order another batch whenever it's necessary. If the League has a problem with the amount of food I consume, they can tell me what they're willing to provide, and I'll decide whether that is sufficient. Until then, I don't see why we should turn lunch into a discussion about accounting."
He took another bite, apparently satisfied that the matter had been resolved, while Barry made a show of nodding along in complete agreement, even though he had already begun opening another box of chicken. Billy looked as though he wanted to continue arguing, but the prospect of trying to establish a sensible limit for two men whose appetites were clearly beyond anything he had experienced left him with very little confidence that the conversation would end in his favour.
Barry, having swallowed his latest mouthful, leaned back in his chair and regarded Bardock with the inquisitiveness that tended to surface whenever he was not occupied with eating, talking, or making an otherwise ordinary activity unnecessarily competitive.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, actually, and since we're already talking about things that make Batman unhappy, this seems like as good a time as any. How did you figure out who we were? I know you've said before that you can sense energy, but you identified people on the League almost immediately, and some of us don't exactly advertise our civilian identities. I can understand recognising Clark because he's got a fairly distinctive presence when he's using his powers, and Diana isn't exactly difficult to identify once you've met her, but you seemed to know quite a lot about everyone before we had properly introduced ourselves. Did somebody tell you, or did you work it out from the information you gathered after arriving?"
The question was asked with genuine curiosity rather than suspicion, although Billy's attention sharpened considerably at the mention of secret identities, and he appeared to be waiting for Bardock's answer with rather more concern than Barry had shown.
"Both, in a manner of speaking," Bardock answered, wiping his fingers before reaching for another burger. "I can sense the energy of living beings, and different people have different patterns, even when their bodies are concealed or they change their appearance. Some of you are particularly easy to recognise because your abilities affect the way your energy behaves, while others have spent so long practising their powers that their presence is familiar to anyone who knows what to look for. I can also read minds, although I don't generally make a habit of searching through someone's thoughts without a reason. Between the two, it wasn't especially difficult to connect the people I met to the identities they were trying to keep hidden." Barry's eyebrows climbed, and he glanced towards Billy, who had become noticeably more rigid in his chair. Bardock noticed the reaction but continued without much concern, as he had already explained the matter to other members of the League and saw little reason to pretend that his abilities were more limited than they were. "I didn't need to search through everyone's memories to establish who they were, and I have no particular interest in knowing every secret you keep. Most people have thoughts they would rather not share, and I don't see the point in digging through them unless doing so serves a purpose."
Barry considered the explanation for a moment before lifting one hand, his expression caught somewhere between fascination and mild alarm. "All right, the energy sensing I can work with, but the mind-reading part is a little harder to get comfortable with. I mean, I'm not accusing you of anything, but most people don't exactly enjoy the idea that somebody else can look into their head whenever they feel like it. There are times when I don't even want to know what I'm thinking, never mind having someone else come along and take a look at the whole mess. So, just to be clear, if we're sitting here talking about lunch, you're not quietly listening to every thought that crosses my mind?"
Bardock gave him a sidelong look, his expression dry enough to make it clear that he found the question more amusing than troubling. "If I listened to every thought that passed through your head, I suspect I would spend most of my time wondering how you manage to accomplish anything. You think very quickly, Barry, and a considerable portion of it concerns food, running, or whatever amusing thing you've remembered in the middle of another conversation. I would have to be a great deal more interested in your private affairs than I am to spend my time sorting through all of that."
Barry stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing, slapping one hand against the table while Billy attempted to suppress a smile of his own. "That's fair," he admitted, shaking his head. "Honestly, that's probably a more accurate description of my brain than anything I've ever come up with, although I would have preferred to hear it from someone who hadn't just admitted he could read my mind. I suppose I should be relieved that you aren't interested in my every passing thought, but I'm going to have to be careful about what I think whenever we're together now."
Bardock shrugged, apparently unable to see why that should present much difficulty. "You can think whatever you like. I'm not responsible for what goes on inside your head, and I'm not going to start policing it for your benefit. Besides, if I wanted to know what you were thinking, I could simply ask you, and if you didn't want to tell me, I would have to decide whether the answer was important enough to pursue. That is generally how a conversation works when people are trying to get along."
He returned to his meal, leaving Barry to consider whether he had just received a reasonable reassurance or an explanation that made the prospect of mind-reading more unsettling than before.
The discussion soon returned to the subject that had occupied most of their lunches since they had begun eating together, and Barry made a renewed attempt to close the gap between his dwindling pile of food and Bardock's ever-growing collection of empty containers. He tore open another box, reached for a slice of pizza, and managed to finish it in a blur of movement before Bardock had finished the burger he was holding. For several seconds, Barry looked distinctly pleased with himself, until Bardock calmly finished his own meal, opened two more containers, and began eating from them with such steady efficiency that the speedster's advantage vanished before he could enjoy it. Billy watched the contest with a growing sense of disbelief, especially when Bardock reached for a plate of fried chicken and continued the conversation without any apparent need to pause between mouthfuls.
"I have to ask," Bardock said after swallowing, looking towards Barry with an expression of genuine curiosity. "How does a human being eat this much? I know your powers allow you to move at extraordinary speeds, but I would not have expected you to consume enough food to make the average Saiyan reconsider whether he had ordered sufficient provisions. You're not particularly large, and your body doesn't appear to possess any of the unusual characteristics that would explain an appetite of this magnitude. Is it simply a consequence of your powers, or is there something else about your physiology that I'm missing?"
Barry swallowed his latest mouthful and nodded, evidently pleased to have an opportunity to explain something about himself that did not involve a crime scene or the intricacies of the Speed Force.
"It's the Speed Force, mostly, although the exact details get a little complicated. My body burns through energy at an incredible rate because of how fast I can move, and the faster I go, the more energy I need to replace. If I run for a long time, especially when I'm pushing myself, I can burn through enough calories that a normal meal barely makes a dent in what I've used up. There are other things involved, too, because the Speed Force helps protect my body from some of the consequences of moving at speeds that should otherwise tear me apart, but it doesn't mean I can ignore the need to eat. I still need fuel, and if I don't get enough, I'll eventually run into trouble no matter how fast I am." He gestured towards the food with a fork, as though the vast quantity of empty containers was an entirely ordinary consequence of his profession. "Most people see me eat a lot and assume I'm either showing off or have no self-control, but if I don't keep up with what my body burns, I can end up exhausted at a time when I really can't afford to be. The fact that I enjoy eating is just a fortunate bonus."
Bardock considered that explanation with the interest of someone who appreciated the relationship between power, physiology, and the limits imposed by a living body. "Then your appetite isn't quite as unusual as it first appeared," he said, reaching for another portion of chicken. "A Saiyan's metabolism is different from a human's, but the principle is familiar enough. Our bodies demand a considerable amount of energy, particularly when we've been fighting or pushing ourselves beyond our usual limits, and the amount we need can become absurd after a serious battle. There have been occasions when I've eaten enough to make a small village wonder where its entire food supply went, although I generally try not to make a habit of doing that when other people need to eat." He paused, considering the memory with a faint smile before continuing. "I suppose the difference is that you need to replace what your powers consume simply to maintain your usual pace, while a Saiyan's appetite can become especially troublesome when we're recovering from injury or adapting to a new level of strength. If you've ever seen my own gluttonous uncle spend an afternoon eating enough for several families, you've probably already seen a fairly mild example of what I'm talking about."
Billy, who had been listening with increasing fascination, looked from Bardock to Barry and then towards the table, where the remaining food had become an almost comical obstacle to ordinary conversation. "You make it sound as though being a superhero means you need to eat enough for an entire sports team just to keep going," he said. "I understand that your powers require energy, but surely there must be a point where you can have too much of it, or where eating that much becomes unhealthy. I mean, I know that neither of you is exactly a normal example of human biology, but there are limits to what the body can do, aren't there?"
Barry opened his mouth to answer, but Bardock spoke first, his expression growing thoughtful as he considered the distinction between ordinary human physiology and the demands placed upon beings whose powers exceeded the limits of their species.
"There are limits, certainly, but they are not always the ones people expect. A body can be remarkably adaptable when it has the means to survive what is being asked of it, and the important question is whether the energy it consumes is sufficient to support the work it performs. You cannot judge a Saiyan by the standards of an ordinary human, any more than you can judge Barry by the amount of food a person his size would normally require. Our bodies have different needs, and those needs become more pronounced when our abilities are being used to their fullest."
Billy listened in silence for a moment, then set down the drink he had been holding and regarded Bardock with an expression that had lost much of its earlier nervousness. The Saiyan was still an intimidating figure, and nothing about the enormous quantity of food surrounding him made Billy forget what he had witnessed during the League's earlier encounters with him, but the conversation had begun to reveal a side of Bardock that was easier to approach than the warrior who had stood against Superman and the rest of the League.
He spoke about his people with the same matter-of-fact interest that he had shown when explaining his appetite, yet there was a weight beneath his words that suggested the subject was more complicated than he was making it sound. Billy had grown up with stories about ancient heroes, powerful gods, and civilizations whose rise and fall shaped the world, and he had learned that the most extraordinary beings often carried histories that were difficult to reconcile with the people they had become.
"Can I ask you something?" he said at last. "You've told us a little about where you came from, but I don't really know anything about the Saiyans themselves. I know you're a warrior, and I've heard you mention your people before, but I don't know whether you were born into some kind of military organisation or whether being a fighter is simply part of your culture. What was your world like before you came here? Were all Saiyans like you, or are you unusual even by their standards?"
Bardock stopped eating for a moment, looking at Billy with a thoughtful expression as he considered how much of his people's history could be conveyed in a conversation over lunch. He had told versions of the story before, though rarely to someone who had no familiarity with the names, places, or conflicts that had shaped his life, and the need to explain it without assuming that his listener understood the wider context made him pause.
"The Saiyans of Universe Seven were always a warrior race," he began, setting aside his food while he gathered his thoughts. "Combat was woven into our culture, our social structure, and the way we judged one another, and strength was often treated as the clearest indication of a person's worth. We were not all identical, of course, and there were differences between individuals, families, and generations, but the species as a whole placed an extraordinary emphasis on fighting. Our people originated on a world called Planet Sadala, which was eventually destroyed during a civil war. The conflict became so destructive that the planet itself was lost, and the Saiyans who survived were forced to seek another home among the stars. That was the beginning of a very different chapter in our history, because the survivors who escaped were not necessarily the best representatives of the people they had left behind."
Barry slowed his eating, listening more closely as Bardock continued, while Billy's expression grew increasingly serious.
"The group that escaped Sadala belonged largely to the more violent and ruthless elements of Saiyan society," Bardock explained. "They were powerful enough to survive the catastrophe, but that did not make them wise, and they carried many of the worst habits of our old culture with them. When they discovered another planet, they did not attempt to coexist with its inhabitants or establish an agreement that would allow both peoples to survive. They conquered it, exterminated the native population, and claimed the world as their own. The planet was much smaller than Sadala, but it was habitable, and the survivors named it after their leader, Vegeta. In time, the world became known as Planet Vegeta, and the Saiyans who settled there built a society around the same principles that had contributed to the destruction of their first home. They valued strength, rewarded aggression, and tended to regard those who could not fight as people who were destined to serve those who could."
His tone remained even, but there was little affection in the way he described the choices made by the ancestors of his people. He did not attempt to excuse their actions, nor did he suggest that the history of the Saiyans had been inevitable; he simply recounted what had happened and allowed his listeners to draw their own conclusions.
Billy's brows drew together, and he glanced briefly towards Barry before looking back at Bardock. "They wiped out the people who already lived there?" he asked, his voice quieter than before. "Just because they wanted a planet of their own?"
Bardock nodded, acknowledging the question without trying to soften the answer. "They believed that their survival and their strength entitled them to take what they wanted. Some might have argued that they had no choice after losing Sadala, but that does not change what they did once they found a world that could sustain them. They could have searched for a way to live alongside its inhabitants, or at least sought a settlement where both peoples might have survived, but that was not the path they chose. The Saiyans who came to dominate the new society were not inclined to treat another species as equals, particularly when they believed that they were stronger and therefore had the right to impose their will. Over generations, those attitudes became part of the culture, and the Saiyans became increasingly comfortable with the idea that conquest was a legitimate way to acquire resources, territory, and status." He picked up his drink, took a mouthful, and set it down again before continuing. "That did not mean every Saiyan was cruel or that every individual agreed with what was done, but dissent was rarely rewarded in a society where strength carried so much authority."
The history took a darker turn when Bardock began explaining how the Saiyans had come under the control of the Cold Empire, a vast interstellar power ruled by a family of exceptionally powerful beings whose influence stretched across numerous worlds. The Cold family belonged to a species with reptilian features, and their rulers had learned to exploit the differences between their own strength and the Saiyans' aggressive culture. Rather than attempting to destroy the Saiyans or absorb them through a conventional political arrangement, they found it more useful to turn the warrior race into an instrument of expansion.
"The Cold Empire had the resources, technology, and military organisation that the Saiyans lacked," Bardock said. "Our people were formidable fighters, but their society was intellectually primitive in many respects, and they had little understanding of what it meant to operate within a civilisation that could command fleets, administer conquered worlds, and coordinate campaigns across an empire. The Cold family recognised that they could make use of Saiyan aggression without having to grant the Saiyans any real authority. They supplied them with equipment, directed them towards worlds they wanted conquered, and used them as attack dogs to exterminate or subjugate the inhabitants. Once the fighting was finished, the conquered planet would be absorbed into the empire, and the Saiyans would move on to the next target."
Barry's expression had become unusually subdued, and he pushed aside an empty container as Bardock continued to describe the arrangement. "So they were basically using your people as mercenaries?" he asked. "Only instead of paying them to fight for whoever hired them, they made them part of the empire's military and sent them wherever they wanted."
Bardock gave him a brief nod, acknowledging the comparison while recognising that it did not entirely capture the nature of the relationship. "That is the gist of it, although the arrangement was less equal than the word mercenary suggests. The Saiyans were useful because they could survive environments that would kill ordinary soldiers, fight with a level of ferocity that most species struggled to match, and adapt quickly to the demands of war. The Cold family did not need them to understand the political consequences of conquest, nor did they want them asking why one planet was to be spared while another was destroyed. They needed soldiers who would carry out orders, and the Saiyans were well suited to that purpose. In exchange, they received equipment, access to technology, and opportunities to fight, which was enough to keep much of the population satisfied even while they remained under the control of another species." His expression hardened slightly as he considered the consequences of that arrangement. "It was a system that benefited the empire until the day its rulers decided the Saiyans had become more dangerous than useful."
Billy looked down at the table, his fingers resting against the edge of his plate as he absorbed the account. "And nobody tried to stop it?" he asked. "I mean, the Saiyans were conquering entire planets. Surely there were people who understood what was happening and realised it was wrong, either among your own people or among the ones who were being attacked."
Bardock regarded him for a moment, recognising the sincerity behind the question, and answered without the defensiveness that might have been expected from someone discussing the crimes of his ancestors. "There were some people who opposed the system, and there were Saiyans who did not agree with every order they were given, but the ability to recognise that something is wrong does not necessarily mean you possess the power to change it. The empire was vast, and the Saiyans were spread across its territories, often separated from one another by enormous distances. Those who objected risked punishment, exile, or death, while those who benefited from conquest had little reason to challenge the arrangement. As for the worlds being attacked, most were not in a position to resist a force that had spent generations perfecting the art of conquest. Some fought and lost, others surrendered, and many were destroyed before they had the opportunity to understand what was happening to them." He paused, allowing the words to settle before adding, "The fact that the Saiyans were being used does not absolve them of responsibility for what they did. Being controlled by a powerful empire explains part of our history, but it does not make the people we killed any less dead."
The cafeteria fell quiet for several seconds, the usual background chatter and hum of the station's machinery becoming more noticeable in the absence of conversation at their table. Bardock did not appear troubled by the silence, although his attention had drifted away from the food and towards the distant windows, where the Earth hung in the darkness beyond the station. He had not grown up on Planet Vegeta, and he had never known the Saiyan society that had existed before the Cold Empire's arrival, but he had learned enough about his people's history to understand that their destruction had not erased the consequences of their actions.
The Cold Empire had exploited the Saiyans, and Frieza had ultimately exterminated most of them out of fear, yet the Saiyans themselves had spent generations helping to build the empire that made such a catastrophe possible. There was no simple way to separate the victims from the perpetrators when the same people had occupied both roles at different points in their history, and Bardock had never found much value in pretending otherwise.
"The end came with Frieza," he continued, his voice returning to its earlier matter-of-fact tone. "He was the latest prince of the Cold family, and unlike his predecessors, he possessed power far beyond what the Saiyans could reasonably challenge. He also had a particular fear of a prophecy that had begun to circulate among our people, one concerning the appearance of a Legendary Super Saiyan whose strength would exceed anything our race had known before. Some Saiyans had begun to anticipate the arrival of that champion, believing that such a warrior might free them from the empire and restore their people to a position of independence. Frieza saw the prophecy as a threat to his rule, and rather than risk the possibility that it might come true, he chose to destroy the planet itself."
Barry had stopped eating entirely by then, while Billy's face had taken on the grave expression of someone who had just heard how an entire civilisation had been destroyed because its ruler feared what one of its members might become.
"He blew up the planet because he was afraid of a prophecy?" Barry asked, sounding as though he hoped there was some missing part of the explanation that would make the decision less monstrous.
Bardock nodded, his gaze remaining on the Earth beyond the glass. "He destroyed Planet Vegeta with most of the Saiyans still on it. There were survivors who happened to be away from the planet when it happened, and a few others who escaped through circumstances that had nothing to do with any plan to save the race, but the overwhelming majority died with their home. Frieza did not need to defeat us in battle, nor did he need to prove that the prophecy was false. He simply removed the possibility by killing the people who might have produced the warrior he feared. From his perspective, it was a straightforward solution to a potential threat. From ours, it was the end of a civilisation that had spent generations believing itself too strong to be destroyed by anyone else." He looked back towards the table, his expression composed, though the subject had clearly exhausted any remaining appetite for nostalgia. "The irony is that the Saiyans had spent so long serving a conqueror that they had become accustomed to measuring their strength against the worlds they were ordered to subjugate. When the threat came from someone stronger than themselves, they discovered how little their reputation meant."
Billy leaned forward slightly, his earlier wariness giving way to a more personal curiosity. "You said some of the Saiyans were expecting the Legendary Super Saiyan to appear," he said. "Who were they expecting? Was it someone who had already been born, or was the prophecy talking about a person who hadn't even existed yet? And if Frieza was so afraid of it, does that mean the Legendary Super Saiyan was really powerful enough to defeat him?"
Bardock gave a thoughtful hum, considering how best to answer without making the prophecy sound more precise than it had ever been. "The wording was interpreted in different ways, and the Saiyans were not particularly skilled at agreeing on what a prophecy meant when it gave them room to imagine the answer they wanted. Some expected a champion who would rise among our people and lead them to freedom, while others believed the transformation itself was the important part, a level of power that would appear once in a generation or perhaps once in many generations. There were plenty of warriors who believed they might be the one, particularly those who had grown up hearing stories about the legendary figure and wanted to see themselves reflected in them. In truth, quite a few people could fit the broad description, depending on which parts of the prophecy you considered important."
Barry raised a hand, as though he were attending a lecture and had finally reached the question he had been waiting to ask. "All right, but who actually fits the bill? You said there were a few people who could qualify, which sounds like a rather generous interpretation of a prophecy that supposedly terrified a galactic emperor. Surely there are some specific characteristics that distinguish the Legendary Super Saiyan from everyone else, otherwise Frieza could have been worrying about absolutely anybody with enough power to give him trouble."
Bardock looked towards him, and a faint, almost reluctant smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "If the precise wording is important, then two Saiyans qualify. One is Broly, another Legendary mutant whose natural power is extraordinary even by Saiyan standards. The other is me. We are exceptional among our people, not simply because we can reach a transformation that others cannot, but because our bodies and our relationship with power are different from those of ordinary Saiyans. Broly's strength developed in a manner that made it difficult for him to control, and for a long time his power grew faster than his ability to understand what was happening to him. I spent considerably longer learning how to manage my own abilities, and before the Breach incident, I had mastered them to a degree that allowed me to use the power without being ruled by it."
He did not dwell on the qualification he had added at the end, but Barry noticed it immediately, as did Billy, whose attention had sharpened at the implication that something had changed since Bardock arrived in their universe.
"Before the breach incident?" Barry repeated. "Does that mean you can't control your powers the same way now? Because, from what I've seen, you don't exactly look as though you're struggling to keep anything under control."
Bardock leaned back in his chair, considering the question before answering with the measured honesty he generally reserved for people who had shown that they could listen without turning every admission into an excuse for suspicion.
"My body was damaged by the passage between universes, and the way my energy moves through it has been affected by the difference between our cosmologies. The power is still there, but reaching it and controlling it are not as straightforward as they were before. I have to work through limitations that I did not have in my own universe, and some of the techniques I relied upon have become less reliable. Fighting has helped me recover, because my body is adapting to the new environment and relearning how to access what it already possessed, but I have not returned to the condition I was in before I crossed over. That is why I spend so much time practising the fundamentals, even when there are easier ways to end a fight." He glanced towards the growing mountain of empty containers beside his chair, then back at Barry. "And before you ask, no, I don't think eating more lunch will make the process go any faster."
Barry laughed, though his expression remained thoughtful, while Billy appeared to be turning the information over in his mind. "So you're one of only two people who could be the Legendary Super Saiyan, and you're one of the only ones left from your entire species?" he asked. "How many Saiyans are there now, exactly? I know you said most of them died when this Frieza destroyed the planet, but I assumed there were more survivors than that, especially if your people had spent generations travelling around the galaxy."
Bardock shook his head. "There are only five known pureblood Saiyans left in my universe, including myself. The rest are hybrids or descendants with some Saiyan blood, people whose other parent or ancestors came from another species. They can inherit many of our abilities, and in some cases they can surpass usual pureblood Saiyans, but they are not the same as the people who lived on Planet Vegeta. The destruction of our homeworld reduced our population to almost nothing, and the few who survived were scattered across the universe, often with little knowledge of what had happened to the others. Some never learned the truth, while others spent years believing they were among the last of their kind without realising how few remained." He paused, then added, "The Saiyan race may continue through its descendants, but the civilisation that existed before Frieza destroyed Planet Vegeta is gone. There is no returning to it, and I have no particular desire to rebuild it as it was. The simple truth is, Universe Seven is better off and safer without the rabble that was the Saiyan race."
A voice from the far end of the cafeteria interrupted before Barry could ask his next question. "I know something about a civilisation destroyed by its own history," Superman said, setting down the cup he had been holding and turning his chair towards them. He had been seated at another table, where a stack of reports and a tablet had occupied much of his attention, but the conversation had clearly carried far enough for him to follow its most important points. His expression was thoughtful rather than accusatory, and he regarded Bardock with the familiarity of someone who had begun to recognise the person behind the formidable power. "Krypton has a history that bears some uncomfortable similarities to what you've described. We weren't exactly a warrior race in the way the Saiyans were, and our empire developed along very different lines, but we expanded across thousands of worlds and flourished for roughly a hundred thousand years. Kryptonian technology became extraordinarily advanced, our cities grew into wonders that would have seemed impossible to earlier generations, and our influence reached far beyond our own star system. For a long time, we believed that we had mastered almost every problem that could threaten us, and that our civilisation would continue indefinitely because we had become too sophisticated to repeat the mistakes of our ancestors."
Bardock turned in his chair to face Clark, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to genuine interest. He had known that Krypton was gone, and he had already heard enough about Superman's abilities to understand that the planet had produced beings whose natural powers could rival those of the Saiyans, but he had not known the details of its history.
"And what destroyed it?" he asked. "Was it another empire, a war, or some disaster that your people failed to anticipate? A civilisation that survives expansionism for a hundred thousand years must have found ways to endure considerable upheaval, so I imagine there was more to its destruction than a single mistake."
Clark was quiet for a moment, looking down at the cup in his hands before raising his eyes again. "It was a mixture of arrogance, political failure, and a decision that we believed would secure our future. Krypton had harvested energy from its planetary core for generations, and our scientists understood that the process was becoming increasingly dangerous, but our society had grown accustomed to trusting its technology to solve whatever problems arose. The warnings were not ignored by everyone, but the people who held the power to change course did not act quickly enough. Eventually the core destabilised, and Krypton was destroyed. The empire had been gone for a long time by then, and the civilisation that remained on the homeworld had become so insular that many of its people could not imagine their world ending until it was too late to prevent it."
Billy looked from Clark to Bardock, seemingly struck by the fact that two of the most powerful beings he knew came from civilisations whose strength and achievements had not protected them from catastrophe.
"So both of your worlds were destroyed, but for different reasons," he said. "The Saiyans were killed because somebody was afraid of what they might become, and Krypton was destroyed because your people couldn't stop themselves from making a decision that was going to kill them. That's horrible, but it also seems strange that there are so few of you left. If Krypton had an empire that covered thousands of worlds, surely there must have been colonies or people living somewhere else when the planet blew up. Were there no other survivors?"
Clark's expression grew more guarded, and his answer came with the deliberate care of someone who had learned that the history of his people was not always a subject he wished to discuss in detail. "There were a few survivors, but far fewer than you might expect. Kara and I were fortunate enough to escape, although our circumstances were different, and there are others whose survival has come about through events that I would rather not go into over lunch. Some of those people are no longer a danger to anyone, but others are imprisoned for very good reason, and I don't think it would help anyone to turn their histories into a casual conversation."
Bardock studied Clark's face, recognising the change in his expression and the restraint behind the words. He had no intention of pressing him for information that he clearly considered private, particularly when the reasons for keeping certain Kryptonians imprisoned might involve crimes serious enough to threaten entire worlds. He had spent enough of his own life dealing with people who believed that power entitled them to impose their will upon others, and he had little sympathy for the idea that someone should be freed simply because they shared a species with a hero.
"That's fair," he said at last. "A person's origins tell you where they came from, but they don't necessarily tell you what they have chosen to become. I would not expect you to trust someone simply because they were born on Krypton, any more than I would ask you to excuse the Saiyans who took part in the empire's conquests because Frieza eventually destroyed our homeworld. If those survivors are imprisoned because they pose a danger to others, then their being Kryptonian doesn't change the matter. The important question is whether they can be trusted to live among other people without repeating the same mistakes."
Clark's shoulders relaxed slightly, and he gave Bardock a brief nod, seeming relieved that the subject had not become an argument over the rights of people whose circumstances were more complicated than their origins suggested.
For a short while, the conversation moved away from the destruction of their respective worlds and towards the practical consequences of being among the few survivors of a lost civilisation. Clark spoke briefly about the difficulty of preserving Kryptonian knowledge without allowing it to become a substitute for the life he had built on Earth, while Bardock explained that he had little interest in recreating Saiyan society simply for the sake of keeping its traditions alive. He was willing to preserve what had value, particularly the martial knowledge and history that could help future generations understand where their abilities came from, but he had no wish to resurrect a culture that had treated conquest as a measure of success.
Barry listened with a thoughtful expression, occasionally adding a question when he thought of something that had not been covered, while Billy gradually returned to his meal, his earlier unease replaced by the more complicated feeling of having learned something important about someone he had previously regarded almost entirely through the lens of his power. The lunch had begun as an absurd contest between two men whose appetites were beyond reason, but it had become a conversation about the consequences of history, the obligations of survivors, and the choices that remained available to people who had lost nearly everything.
Eventually Bardock reached the bottom of his final container, scraped up the last of the food, and set the empty plate aside with the satisfied expression of someone who had decided that lunch had been a worthwhile use of his time. The table around him had become almost impossible to see beneath the accumulated containers, and the floor beside his chair was cluttered with enough empty boxes to make Billy wonder how long it would take the cafeteria staff to clear everything away.
Barry, despite his best efforts, had fallen considerably behind, and the speedster's own pile of empty packaging looked almost insignificant beside the collection surrounding Bardock. He stared at the difference for a moment, then shook his head with theatrical resignation.
"I give up," he announced. "I don't know how you do it, and I'm beginning to suspect that this isn't really a competition so much as an elaborate way for you to make me feel bad about my lunch choices. I can run around the world several times before most people finish tying their shoes, but apparently I can't eat fast enough to keep up with you. Next time, I'm bringing reinforcements, and I'm going to find a way to make sure that the food arrives faster than you can eat it."
Bardock rose from his chair, brushing the crumbs from his hands before looking down at Barry with an expression of mild amusement. "You can bring as many reinforcements as you like, but I suspect you'll find that the result remains the same," he replied. "If you want to improve your chances, you should stop wasting time trying to turn lunch into a competition and concentrate on eating. You've spent half the afternoon talking, and you still seem surprised that I managed to finish first."
Barry shook his head, laughing as he began stacking the containers nearest him, while Billy stood and looked towards the cafeteria entrance.
"You're actually going to leave all of this for somebody else to clean up?" he asked, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice.
Bardock glanced at the mess, then back at him, and gave a small shrug. "I'll help clear the table if that's what the staff wants, but I'm not going to spend the afternoon apologising for eating a meal. Besides, I have somewhere to be." He turned towards Clark, who had already begun gathering his tablet and reports, and inclined his head in farewell. "I'm heading down to Mount Justice. Diana suggested I watch the Team's combat session, and I might as well see what Black Canary is teaching them. If I'm going to be here for a while, I should learn something about the people who are supposed to be protecting this planet alongside me."
Clark regarded him with a faint smile, evidently recognising the decision as a useful step towards becoming more familiar with the younger heroes. "Dinah is a good instructor, and the Team could benefit from hearing how you approach combat, provided you remember that they're still learning," he said. "Some of them have been trained for years, while others are still discovering what their abilities can do, and not everyone has the same experience or confidence. If you see something that needs correcting, speak to Dinah before you decide to demonstrate it yourself. She knows her students, and she will be better placed to judge what they need than someone who has only just met them."
Bardock nodded, accepting the advice without argument. "I can manage that much. I'm not going there to challenge the children or take over the session, and if Canary has something useful to teach them, I'll give her the opportunity to show me what it is. If she doesn't, then at least I'll have learned a little more about the people who are going to be working with the League in the future." He gave Barry one last glance, then added, "Try not to eat the entire cafeteria while I'm gone. I would prefer to return to a kitchen that still has something left in it."
Barry pointed a fork at him in mock indignation, but the grin on his face betrayed his lack of seriousness. Billy watched Bardock leave the cafeteria, his tail swaying behind him as he disappeared into the corridor, and found himself wondering what Black Canary would make of a visitor who could discuss the fall of civilisations over lunch and then head off to watch a group of teenagers practise their fighting skills. Clark gathered his things and followed at a more measured pace, leaving Barry to resume his battle against the remaining food and Billy to contemplate whether the League would ever manage to make the Saiyan behave like an ordinary guest.
Given the evidence of the afternoon, it seemed unlikely. Yet as Bardock moved through the Watchtower towards the transport platform, he appeared less like an invader who had wandered into their universe and more like someone who had begun to find his place within it, one meal, one conversation, and one reluctant invitation at a time.
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A.N. Continue on to Part 2