Grodd made a very human frown, holding it for a long moment before finally slapping a fist into his palm. "Lady Styx. Word is she controls seven sectors, runs a sizeable slave trade, and operates this gladiatorial arena of theirs."
"Lady Styx?" Thea's expression darkened. Where had this nobody crawled out from, daring to call herself that?
She thought it over. The Guardian Horuba's memories did contain the name. Holding seven sectors under Green Lantern pressure—whatever she was, she wasn't nothing.
Thea waved a hand. They would move out. She wanted to see exactly what Lady Styx was worth.
She brought Fiora, now fully recovered from her injuries, and the three of them departed with fifteen hundred escorts, eleven Tier 8 civilization warships, and one Tier 9 civilization flagship, sailing deep into the cosmos in grand formation.
Grodd sat off to one side with a laptop, watching Animal Planet—an extended recording the Earth government had specially produced, filled with footage of gorillas and their kind. Thea had glanced at it once, found it eye-wateringly embarrassing, and refused to acknowledge it ever again.
Fiora stared out the viewport with quiet melancholy. The brilliant sweep of the cosmos did little to settle her. Several times she seemed on the verge of speaking, only to swallow the words back down.
"Thinking about resurrecting General Zod?" Thea asked carefully.
"Your adoptive father," Fiora said, turning the question back instead of answering it. "Why didn't you resurrect him? I heard you two were always very close."
Thea let out a rueful laugh. Robert Senior was well on his way to becoming a cautionary legend—fortunately that example had been enough to talk more than a few heroes out of bringing their own loved ones back.
For her most loyal deputy, who had always worked for her from the shadows without complaint, Thea skipped the high-minded rhetoric. Fiora probably wouldn't have believed it anyway.
"Fate is a curious thing. My instincts tell me Robert's purpose has run its course. If I were to drag him back against that current, I'm certain the result would be something I don't want to see."
"And my fate? Is my fate still out there?"
"It might sound a little self-important to say this," Thea said, and she meant every word, "but the moment your fate became entangled with mine, it already changed."
"Then let me keep following you."
"Thank you for your loyalty. It is genuinely my honor."
The two of them spoke like a queen and her sworn knight—a handful of words, a conversation complete.
Fiora never brought up Zod's resurrection again. Thea never revisited her ambitions of restoring Krypton. Everything that needed to be understood was understood.
Krypton was what gave Zod meaning. Without Krypton, the only thing left for him would be pain.
The fleet traveled for a full day before coming to rest at a planet called Grend in Sector 313.
Grodd roused the young mistress. The whole party unsealed the hatch and stepped out into the open.
On Earth, she kept a low profile. She had an image to maintain, a hero's face to wear. Out here there was no such obligation. Humility and restraint weren't fashionable in this part of the galaxy—the only currency that mattered was strength, and the only law was the one the strong wrote. Show exactly as much power as you possess. Nothing more, nothing less.
Thea dressed accordingly.
A floor-length gown of deep, near-black with a midriff cutout, exposing the clean muscle definition of her abdomen. Countless gold threads shimmered through the fabric—drawn from the tendons of a Devourer, a great beast that had survived by absorbing the raw energy of entire planets. The species was long extinct, a relic stockpiled by the Trade Consortium's previous leader.
He had kept it for years, presumably to forge some legendary weapon. It ended up in Thea's possession, cut and reshaped into a dress.
Most of the material's original functions had been lost in the process. What remained was still formidable: high-speed flight, strength and speed augmentation, projection of flame exceeding four thousand degrees Celsius (over seven thousand Fahrenheit), among others.
Dropped on Earth, this gown would have rivaled Stargirl's Cosmic Staff—more than enough to mint a superhero on its own.
There was, of course, a cost. The Devourer had annihilated several inhabited planets in its time, and the curse that came with the deaths of intelligent life had transferred to the gown's wearer. Thea didn't care in the slightest. She dissolved the cursed weight without effort. Wearing it was simply a statement.
Around her neck hung a necklace of twelve jade beads, each perfectly uniform—stellar cores ground down from twelve collapsed suns.
Over it all, a long cloak. A specialty of Hell, woven from the feathers of fallen angels.
Lucifer's role as a shining example had inspired a considerable number of Heaven's rank-and-file to descend voluntarily in pursuit of power. "Fallen angel" sounds impressive at first. In practice, it isn't.
Lucifer was impressive because he was God's own son. He could have turned himself into slime and still been impressive. That had nothing to do with the angels who followed his lead. Ordinary angels fell in every creative fashion imaginable and came out the other side exactly as they had been before.
Lucifer spent his days playing creator in the private universe he had built. His impoverished relatives from Heaven who'd come to seek his favor were all living pitifully. The demons at least gave face to the lord of Hell and refrained from slaughtering them outright—but with no means of support, the fallen had only one option: sell their feathers.
Hence the cloak. High magic resistance. Considerable.
Dragon-tooth earrings, a demon's heart, several other tier-one accessories—Thea selected a few and put them on.
Grend was a well-known planet in this region of the galaxy. Eleven Tier 8 warships and a Tier 9 flagship didn't pass through its docking rings often. Observers had already gathered near the landing pads, waiting to relay news to the patrons they served.
The fifteen hundred soldiers fell into two columns. Thea led Fiora and Grodd out at an unhurried pace.
Cold composure layered over opulent dress. Light makeup. Dark lip color. She landed on the surface like a queen arriving for court.
Dignified. Measured. Untouchable.
Beauty and the promise of death occupied the same face. Every expression carried the implication of consequences. Several spies from rival factions seemed to consider closing the distance for a better look at this newcomer—but the moment their gaze brushed against Thea's silhouette, not even reaching her face, a searing pain erupted through their bodies and they reconsidered.
"There doesn't seem to be anyone particularly powerful here," Fiora said, scanning the surroundings.
No red sun. No star at all, in fact. The planet's light appeared to come from a species of violet algae—enormous plant structures that rose toward the heavens and provided illumination through their own internal biological processes.
Every square meter of the surface was occupied by beings of one species or another, each more dangerous-looking than the last, each apparently trying to radiate the message: do not test me.
Savagery. Killing. Hatred. These emotions weren't subtext here. They were the atmosphere.
"Grodd doesn't like it here." The gorilla had been dragged from its comfortable nest to this place, wholly against its inclinations—but to stay at Thea's side and not be left behind, it had endured.
"Pick someone at random and read them," Thea said evenly. "I want to confirm we're in the right place."
"Read who?" Having lived as a model citizen for so long, Grodd wasn't fully back in the mindset.
"Anyone. Whoever looks convenient."
Grodd's mood lifted considerably. On Earth, using mind control was forbidden. On the handful of other planets they visited, the need had never come up. It had almost forgotten the ability was still there.