“The Right Thing”
David Gibson
The royal palace of the Atlantians was located in the center of the underwater city of Poseidonis, capital of the continent of Atlantis. The palace rose up majestically, seeming to defy the pressure of the tons of water that rested atop it. It was built millennia ago but had been repaired, refitted, and updated over the years due to the damage of aging, use, and attacks from horrific coral sea monsters. It was the home of Aquaman, king of the seven seas and ruler of Atlantis.
The large royal chamber was where the king currently sat, resting on an ornate and therefore fairly uncomfortable throne. His beard was freshly trimmed and his hair tied back to prevent it floating into his eyes. He often wondered as someone who spent most of his time underwater why he let his hair grow so damn long. He looked around the cavernous throne room at the carved pillars depicting ancient kings that had ruled the land since before the land even sunk.
He sighed. As much as he needed to fulfill his responsibilities as monarch he would rather be anywhere, even fighting Amazo, than here. Vulko snapped him back to reality.
“Your Majesty,” the somewhat portly advisor said for the tenth time.
Aquaman snapped his head around, “Huh?”
“As I was saying, King Orin, are you sure about these decisions? It is a lot of work and seems somewhat unnecessary.”
Aquaman took the list of proclamations from Vulko and scanned through them. “Sorry, old friend. I was miles away. Which decisions in particular bother you?”
Vulko straightened, “It is your choices on the repairs and rebuilding.”
“Poseidonis, Tritonis, Shayeris, and the other cities need to have the damaged sections restored. Atlantis has been attacked a lot in recent times. The Island of Cerdia declared war on us, the Giganta attacked, and other recent disasters. We’re already doing repairs we might as well touch up all the cities while we are at it.” Aquaman said handing back the notes.
“There is no arguing with repairs but the relocation of certain key resources could be disastrous. Locating them in certain areas instead of spreading them out. It seems a lot like grouping all the fish in one school.”
“Or putting all our eggs in one basket…”
“Pardon?” Vulko asked raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing. Spending too much time in the Watchtower with Wally and Kyle…” Aquaman muttered to himself. “This is about the power plants and hydroponics gardens, is it not?”
Vulko looked slightly uncomfortable and nodded. “Yes. Why relocate the majority of our gardens to Cerdian soil? And why decommission their power plants?”
Aquaman raised himself off the throne and floated to the large picture window that overlooked the city. He stared out looking at his subjects, looking at the lives that depended on him. “When I made Cerdia a protectorate of Atlantis, I did it because I felt the Island could not stand alone. The war had weakened both nations and their Queen had died. There is still a lot of resentment to them here. They attacked us and declared war on us.”
Vulko floated over. “All the more reason not to rely on them to provide us with food. Or have them get all their power from us.”
“Cerdia cannot stand alone. And doesn’t. It is now part of Atlantis. We need to show the people that. They make our food. It’s easier up there with natural sunlight. We can give them power more efficiently, tap into the geothermal core of the planet and use our more advanced technology.”
“We would become dependent on them!”
“Yes. And them on us. United we stand and divided we fall. I’m making a new future for Atlantis, all of it.” He turned back to Vulko. “We also need someone to look over things in Cerdia, manage the day to day affairs for the Island.”
Vulko thought a bit. “That might be hard. Not all of us can breath up there or last for long periods of time. Unless Garth would like the job.”
“He has had more free time since his Titans broke up. But he is still technically our Ambassador to the US, and he’s busy dealing with the fallout from that incident with the Navy submarine.”
“Yes, I have heard things are tense up there.” Vulko paused for a second and wondered if he should say what he was about to. “What about Koryak?”
Aquaman spun around. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“He is your son and the people respect him.”
“He betrayed me and tried to take the throne!”
“And you exiled him. He might have learned his lesson.”
Aquaman rested his head against the glass. He was the rightful king of the nation, by birth and by the will of the people. So why did he hate being king so much? Koryak was his son, with an Eskimo woman, and people had followed him before…
“Sir?” Vulko asked resting his hand on Aquaman’s shoulder; he had known Aquaman since before he was even known as that. “Orin. Arthur. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”
The right thing. He was a super hero. Catch the bad guys, send them to jail and save the world. He always had to do the right thing. Didn’t he? “I’ll think about it.” He straightened up and turned back to Vulko. “Contact the builders and get them started. Tritonis was the most heavily damaged, start the rebuilding there. I’ve hired some architects to redesign the city; a lot of the older buildings have been around since before the sinking. The style of architecture has changed since then. What do mer-people need with stairs?”
“I’ll get right on it, sir.”
“Anything else?”
“The Teen Titans have been trying to talk to you for a couple of days. And the UN wants to discuss Santa Prisca.”
“Robin, Superboy and the others are big kids. They defeated Starro all by themselves. I’m sure they can work out whatever problem they have alone. Call Garth. I’ll need to talk to him about Santa Prisca before he goes to the UN building next week.”
To Be Continued in Aquaman #82...
Aquaman
Real Name: Orin
Aka: Arthur Curry, King Orin
Height: 6’1’’
Weight: 325 lbs
Eyes: Aqua-blue
Hair: Blonde
Marital Status: Divorced/annulled
Powers: Pressure from underwater life gives him super strength and endurance. Able to communicate with all sea life. Limited telepathy. Enhanced senses. Cybernetic left hand can transform into any shape.
The royal palace of the Atlantians was located in the center of the underwater city of Poseidonis, capital of the continent of Atlantis. The palace rose up majestically, seeming to defy the pressure of the tons of water that rested atop it. It was built millennia ago but had been repaired, refitted, and updated over the years due to the damage of aging, use, and attacks from horrific coral sea monsters. It was the home of Aquaman, king of the seven seas and ruler of Atlantis.
The large royal chamber was where the king currently sat, resting on an ornate and therefore fairly uncomfortable throne. His beard was freshly trimmed and his hair tied back to prevent it floating into his eyes. He often wondered as someone who spent most of his time underwater why he let his hair grow so damn long. He looked around the cavernous throne room at the carved pillars depicting ancient kings that had ruled the land since before the land even sunk.
He sighed. As much as he needed to fulfill his responsibilities as monarch he would rather be anywhere, even fighting Amazo, than here. Vulko snapped him back to reality.
“Your Majesty,” the somewhat portly advisor said for the tenth time.
Aquaman snapped his head around, “Huh?”
“As I was saying, King Orin, are you sure about these decisions? It is a lot of work and seems somewhat unnecessary.”
Aquaman took the list of proclamations from Vulko and scanned through them. “Sorry, old friend. I was miles away. Which decisions in particular bother you?”
Vulko straightened, “It is your choices on the repairs and rebuilding.”
“Poseidonis, Tritonis, Shayeris, and the other cities need to have the damaged sections restored. Atlantis has been attacked a lot in recent times. The Island of Cerdia declared war on us, the Giganta attacked, and other recent disasters. We’re already doing repairs we might as well touch up all the cities while we are at it.” Aquaman said handing back the notes.
“There is no arguing with repairs but the relocation of certain key resources could be disastrous. Locating them in certain areas instead of spreading them out. It seems a lot like grouping all the fish in one school.”
“Or putting all our eggs in one basket…”
“Pardon?” Vulko asked raising an eyebrow.
“Nothing. Spending too much time in the Watchtower with Wally and Kyle…” Aquaman muttered to himself. “This is about the power plants and hydroponics gardens, is it not?”
Vulko looked slightly uncomfortable and nodded. “Yes. Why relocate the majority of our gardens to Cerdian soil? And why decommission their power plants?”
Aquaman raised himself off the throne and floated to the large picture window that overlooked the city. He stared out looking at his subjects, looking at the lives that depended on him. “When I made Cerdia a protectorate of Atlantis, I did it because I felt the Island could not stand alone. The war had weakened both nations and their Queen had died. There is still a lot of resentment to them here. They attacked us and declared war on us.”
Vulko floated over. “All the more reason not to rely on them to provide us with food. Or have them get all their power from us.”
“Cerdia cannot stand alone. And doesn’t. It is now part of Atlantis. We need to show the people that. They make our food. It’s easier up there with natural sunlight. We can give them power more efficiently, tap into the geothermal core of the planet and use our more advanced technology.”
“We would become dependent on them!”
“Yes. And them on us. United we stand and divided we fall. I’m making a new future for Atlantis, all of it.” He turned back to Vulko. “We also need someone to look over things in Cerdia, manage the day to day affairs for the Island.”
Vulko thought a bit. “That might be hard. Not all of us can breath up there or last for long periods of time. Unless Garth would like the job.”
“He has had more free time since his Titans broke up. But he is still technically our Ambassador to the US, and he’s busy dealing with the fallout from that incident with the Navy submarine.”
“Yes, I have heard things are tense up there.” Vulko paused for a second and wondered if he should say what he was about to. “What about Koryak?”
Aquaman spun around. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“He is your son and the people respect him.”
“He betrayed me and tried to take the throne!”
“And you exiled him. He might have learned his lesson.”
Aquaman rested his head against the glass. He was the rightful king of the nation, by birth and by the will of the people. So why did he hate being king so much? Koryak was his son, with an Eskimo woman, and people had followed him before…
“Sir?” Vulko asked resting his hand on Aquaman’s shoulder; he had known Aquaman since before he was even known as that. “Orin. Arthur. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?”
The right thing. He was a super hero. Catch the bad guys, send them to jail and save the world. He always had to do the right thing. Didn’t he? “I’ll think about it.” He straightened up and turned back to Vulko. “Contact the builders and get them started. Tritonis was the most heavily damaged, start the rebuilding there. I’ve hired some architects to redesign the city; a lot of the older buildings have been around since before the sinking. The style of architecture has changed since then. What do mer-people need with stairs?”
“I’ll get right on it, sir.”
“Anything else?”
“The Teen Titans have been trying to talk to you for a couple of days. And the UN wants to discuss Santa Prisca.”
“Robin, Superboy and the others are big kids. They defeated Starro all by themselves. I’m sure they can work out whatever problem they have alone. Call Garth. I’ll need to talk to him about Santa Prisca before he goes to the UN building next week.”
To Be Continued in Aquaman #82...
Aquaman
Real Name: Orin
Aka: Arthur Curry, King Orin
Height: 6’1’’
Weight: 325 lbs
Eyes: Aqua-blue
Hair: Blonde
Marital Status: Divorced/annulled
Powers: Pressure from underwater life gives him super strength and endurance. Able to communicate with all sea life. Limited telepathy. Enhanced senses. Cybernetic left hand can transform into any shape.
“Boys' Night Out”
David Gibson
“I tell ya, this is exactly what you all need. Especially after that incident with Lady Flash. Get your mind off your troubles.”
The club smelt of beer and sweat, pounding bass filled the room making it a strain to hear anything. The room was filled with people, all drinking, laughing, and dancing.
“Arsenal, Roy, are you sure this is a good idea?” Wally ‘Flash’ West asked. “There’s already been one attempt on Barry. Maybe I should go home.”
“I agree.” Tempest said, “Dolphin might be wondering where I am, and Cerdian is still so young…”
Roy ‘Arsenal’ Harper smiled a lady-slaying smile and slapped his hand on Tempest’s back, “C’mon, Gillhead. As a father I know exactly how you feel. Your kid Cerdian will be fine, other than the dumb name your ‘boss’ saddled her with. And as the only really single person here I need to remind you poor whipped souls how to have fun.”
Dick ‘Nightwing’ Grayson sighed, stepped forward, and began heading to a booth. “He’s not going to give in guys. Let’s go get a table.”
Roy caught up to him in three steps, “This night is for you too, unlike the rest you don’t have marriage or children as an excuse. Keep acting like this and your face will end up freezing in a frown like you-know-who’s.”
Dick shook his head. “I have a job, a steady girl…”
“…An ulcer in progress,” Roy said, smiling and leading them to a booth.
The quartet sat down at the booth and the waitress appeared with drinks. She winked at Roy as she walked away.
Wally shook his head, “You met her five seconds ago and already have her number, and they call me the ‘fastest man alive’.”
Roy shrugged and pocketed the waitress’ digits. “It’s a gift and a curse. But mostly a gift.”
Dick turned to Wally, “So how’s Barry holding up? Sleepless nights? Crying? Any emotional trauma?”
“Surprisingly fine. Had to pry him out of Linda’s arms for the first few nights but other than that.” Wally shrugged and looked at Tempest, “So how are you holding up, Garth? Haven’t seen you since the League disbanded the Titans again.”
“Things have been hectic,” the young Atlantean said. “I’ve been spending more time at the UN than at home. After the terrorist incident the US has been defensive about its borders. Then there was an attack on a US sub. Things have been tense between Atlantis and the States. I’ve been working hard to keep everything from blowing up.”
“How did things go with Arthur and that escaped criminal?” Dick asked. “He gave me quite the cold shoulder when I bumped into him.”
“He’s fine. Caught him and brought him back. And I apologize if he was a little... abrupt. He can be that way.”
“It’s the short pants.” Roy said. “He still remembers you in those green Speedos. Hell, even I still find it hard to look at you and keep a straight face. Same for you, Gillface. Although you had better legs.”
Wally nearly choked on his beer. Garth just shot Roy a dirty look.
“He’s got a point,” Dick said, still nursing his drink, “I bet Arthur still thinks of me as a kid. Probably thinks of all of us as kids. Even Wally and they work together. He has been doing it as long as the rest of the big guns. Supes, J’onn, Bats. And you did pull of the shorts better Garth. All that swimming...”
Wally tried very hard to keep his drink out of his nose. Garth managed a smile. He took a long gulp of his drink. “But at least I didn’t wear red, yellow, and green. Were you trying to be a target? Or were there just not enough lights in the cave to see what you were pulling on?”
“Yeah, let him have it, Gillface. And where did you get the name ‘Robin’ from anyway? Were Batboy and Bat-mite copyrighted?”
“You’re one to talk, Roy,” Dick said, “What kind of name is Speedy?! You really got *ahem* shafted there.”
Roy smiled; his work here was done. Or just beginning. “Hey, the dart board is free, who’s up for a game?”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’ll even things up. I’ll keep my eyes closed.”
Dick shrugged. “Why not. No peeking?”
“Never even began to start to cross my mind.” He led the way to the board. “Hey, while we’re playing, want to make things ‘interesting’?”
Wally and Garth watched them go off. “Didn’t have much time to talk last time we met up. So how are you finding parenthood?” Garth asked.
“Sleepless. You?”
“Same. We should get our kids together. Have a play date or something.”
“Yeah. But let’s do it at my place. I think your home might be a little… damp.” Wally said while standing up and stretching.
“Sure.” Garth grinned and waved the waitress over for a refill. “I have to keep myself hydrated, right?”
“Of course,” Wally agreed, topping his own drink off. “And I need to keep my calories and energy up. Don’t want to get tired.”
“Of course not. Hmmm, looks like Dick’s winning.”
Wally glanced over his shoulder, “So he is.”
“I thought Roy never missed.” Garth said, raising an eyebrow.
“Me too. You’d almost think someone was running over there invisibly fast and pushing his darts slightly off.”
Garth’s head snapped round. “Wally!! That’s… that’s horrible and awful and… and… and really really damn funny.” Garth badly held in his laughter.
“Ain’t I a stinker?”
“I wonder how much money they had riding on the game?”
“Oh from the hand signals Dick gave me before they left I’d say oh… about $50.”
“He’d kill you if he found out.”
“You gonna tell him?”
“Hell no. Let’s get closer. I want to see the look on his face.” Garth finished off his beer and followed Wally through the crowd.
Tempest
Real Name: Garth
Height: 5’10’’
Weight: 210 lbs
Eyes: Purple
Hair: Black
Marital Status: Married
Powers: Pressure from underwater life gives him super strength and endurance. Psionically manipulate ocean currents and heat or freeze water at will. Can fire optic blasts underwater or on land. Other mystic powers that are yet fully explored including; teleportation, astral projection, telekinesis, and limited telepathy.
“I tell ya, this is exactly what you all need. Especially after that incident with Lady Flash. Get your mind off your troubles.”
The club smelt of beer and sweat, pounding bass filled the room making it a strain to hear anything. The room was filled with people, all drinking, laughing, and dancing.
“Arsenal, Roy, are you sure this is a good idea?” Wally ‘Flash’ West asked. “There’s already been one attempt on Barry. Maybe I should go home.”
“I agree.” Tempest said, “Dolphin might be wondering where I am, and Cerdian is still so young…”
Roy ‘Arsenal’ Harper smiled a lady-slaying smile and slapped his hand on Tempest’s back, “C’mon, Gillhead. As a father I know exactly how you feel. Your kid Cerdian will be fine, other than the dumb name your ‘boss’ saddled her with. And as the only really single person here I need to remind you poor whipped souls how to have fun.”
Dick ‘Nightwing’ Grayson sighed, stepped forward, and began heading to a booth. “He’s not going to give in guys. Let’s go get a table.”
Roy caught up to him in three steps, “This night is for you too, unlike the rest you don’t have marriage or children as an excuse. Keep acting like this and your face will end up freezing in a frown like you-know-who’s.”
Dick shook his head. “I have a job, a steady girl…”
“…An ulcer in progress,” Roy said, smiling and leading them to a booth.
The quartet sat down at the booth and the waitress appeared with drinks. She winked at Roy as she walked away.
Wally shook his head, “You met her five seconds ago and already have her number, and they call me the ‘fastest man alive’.”
Roy shrugged and pocketed the waitress’ digits. “It’s a gift and a curse. But mostly a gift.”
Dick turned to Wally, “So how’s Barry holding up? Sleepless nights? Crying? Any emotional trauma?”
“Surprisingly fine. Had to pry him out of Linda’s arms for the first few nights but other than that.” Wally shrugged and looked at Tempest, “So how are you holding up, Garth? Haven’t seen you since the League disbanded the Titans again.”
“Things have been hectic,” the young Atlantean said. “I’ve been spending more time at the UN than at home. After the terrorist incident the US has been defensive about its borders. Then there was an attack on a US sub. Things have been tense between Atlantis and the States. I’ve been working hard to keep everything from blowing up.”
“How did things go with Arthur and that escaped criminal?” Dick asked. “He gave me quite the cold shoulder when I bumped into him.”
“He’s fine. Caught him and brought him back. And I apologize if he was a little... abrupt. He can be that way.”
“It’s the short pants.” Roy said. “He still remembers you in those green Speedos. Hell, even I still find it hard to look at you and keep a straight face. Same for you, Gillface. Although you had better legs.”
Wally nearly choked on his beer. Garth just shot Roy a dirty look.
“He’s got a point,” Dick said, still nursing his drink, “I bet Arthur still thinks of me as a kid. Probably thinks of all of us as kids. Even Wally and they work together. He has been doing it as long as the rest of the big guns. Supes, J’onn, Bats. And you did pull of the shorts better Garth. All that swimming...”
Wally tried very hard to keep his drink out of his nose. Garth managed a smile. He took a long gulp of his drink. “But at least I didn’t wear red, yellow, and green. Were you trying to be a target? Or were there just not enough lights in the cave to see what you were pulling on?”
“Yeah, let him have it, Gillface. And where did you get the name ‘Robin’ from anyway? Were Batboy and Bat-mite copyrighted?”
“You’re one to talk, Roy,” Dick said, “What kind of name is Speedy?! You really got *ahem* shafted there.”
Roy smiled; his work here was done. Or just beginning. “Hey, the dart board is free, who’s up for a game?”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’ll even things up. I’ll keep my eyes closed.”
Dick shrugged. “Why not. No peeking?”
“Never even began to start to cross my mind.” He led the way to the board. “Hey, while we’re playing, want to make things ‘interesting’?”
Wally and Garth watched them go off. “Didn’t have much time to talk last time we met up. So how are you finding parenthood?” Garth asked.
“Sleepless. You?”
“Same. We should get our kids together. Have a play date or something.”
“Yeah. But let’s do it at my place. I think your home might be a little… damp.” Wally said while standing up and stretching.
“Sure.” Garth grinned and waved the waitress over for a refill. “I have to keep myself hydrated, right?”
“Of course,” Wally agreed, topping his own drink off. “And I need to keep my calories and energy up. Don’t want to get tired.”
“Of course not. Hmmm, looks like Dick’s winning.”
Wally glanced over his shoulder, “So he is.”
“I thought Roy never missed.” Garth said, raising an eyebrow.
“Me too. You’d almost think someone was running over there invisibly fast and pushing his darts slightly off.”
Garth’s head snapped round. “Wally!! That’s… that’s horrible and awful and… and… and really really damn funny.” Garth badly held in his laughter.
“Ain’t I a stinker?”
“I wonder how much money they had riding on the game?”
“Oh from the hand signals Dick gave me before they left I’d say oh… about $50.”
“He’d kill you if he found out.”
“You gonna tell him?”
“Hell no. Let’s get closer. I want to see the look on his face.” Garth finished off his beer and followed Wally through the crowd.
Tempest
Real Name: Garth
Height: 5’10’’
Weight: 210 lbs
Eyes: Purple
Hair: Black
Marital Status: Married
Powers: Pressure from underwater life gives him super strength and endurance. Psionically manipulate ocean currents and heat or freeze water at will. Can fire optic blasts underwater or on land. Other mystic powers that are yet fully explored including; teleportation, astral projection, telekinesis, and limited telepathy.
“The Meeting”
David Gibson
He sank into the soft smooth leather of the chair like a rock into mud. The chair was custom made to fit the contours of his body and the pale tan leather was lion-skin imported from Africa. He liked the idea of the one of the most vicious and dangerous animals on the planet being used to cushion his behind. The chair swiveled smoothly, freshly oiled every day. He turned to face one of his underlings.
He looked at him for a few seconds before talking, glared at him motionless and silently, letting him soak up his presence and authority first. He straightened the silk tie on his several thousand-dollar Armani suit and then pressed his fingertips together while his hands rested on his redwood desk. “So the report is complete?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
The other man sat in a professional, but plain looking, wooden chair with short legs so the person sitting would be forced to look slightly upward. He shifted slightly from discomfort, not all due to the chair. “Yes. As per your request sir, all the information we have on Atlantis and King Orin,” he said, holding up a thick softbound booklet of a little over a hundred pages.
“Summarize it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard. Just the essentials to refresh my memory.”
The man flipped through the book anxiously, he wished he’d had the foresight to pick up a stronger anti-perspirant. “Well… um… it was sunk by a skull-shaped meteor approximately 40, 000 years ago. The dome had already been built to keep out intruders.”
“Skull-shaped meteor?”
“That’s what it says. The Atlanteans were then mutated using a special serum that made them able to breathe underwater. The people of the Sister City Tritonis were magically altered and eventually became mer-people.”
“Death’s head space rocks, transformational potions, and magical mermaids. Is this research or a fairly tale?”
“Ummm… this is what we know. It did take place in 38,000 BC. That’s 33,000 before the earliest known human civilization. Still mostly wandering barbarian tribes and the like.” The researcher squirmed again.
He turned in the leather chair and looked out the picture window behind him at the grassy lawn, the hedges carefully sculpted and grass noticeably greener on his side. He paid people a lot of money to keep it that way. “Continue.”
“The king back then, Orin the first… Aquaman is named after him… had his daughter raped by his own brother’s son. She gave birth to a green-scaled infant with blonde hair known as Kordax. He led the Tritonians against Poseidonis and had his left hand cut off as punishment. From that point on all blond haired Atlantean children are said to suffer the ‘curse of Kordax’.”
“Aquaman is blond. Enough ancient history, skip ahead and talk about him.”
“Well there is a lot of contrary information,” the frazzled man said, skimming through the book, “There are rumors he was a half-breed, that his mother was an Atlantean and his father a lighthouse keeper. But recent information acquired from the JLA data banks say otherwise. How exactly did you get access to the League’s computers sir?”
The chair spun round and twin-glaring eyes stared down the small researcher. He spoke slowly and deliberately adding emphasis to each and every word, “I have my means.”
“I… I… I didn’t mean to question you…”
“No I’m sure you didn’t. You were saying.”
“Oh right… the League’s files say that Aquaman was the illegitimate son of Atlanna, the queen of Atlantis, and Atlan an immortal sorcerer, who dates back from a couple generations after the sinking.”
“You’re getting off track.”
“Aquaman was born with blond hair, the curse of Kordax, and abandoned on a coral reef to die. They didn’t know that when the tide receded he would be able to breathe in the air or survive for longer than an hour. He was found and raised by dolphins and eventually a friendly lighthouse keeper. That must be where the legend came from.”
“He was raised by dolphins? That is as unbelievable as skull meteorites.”
“Yes, but these reports were from the JLA and DEO databases. Based on testimonies from Aquaman himself.”
“Yes, yes. Continue.”
“After that things get murky. He apparently traveled the globe and rediscovered his home. A little over a decade ago he aided the Flash against one of his rogues. The press dubbed him ‘Aquaman’. He forms the Justice League along with…”
“I believe I know what happens after. Why did they accept him into the League? Talking to fish and breathing underwater are not very useful powers.”
“Well like all the people of Atlantis he is super strong.”
“Ah yes, I had heard that. Exactly how much stronger are they?”
The man flipped to close to the end. He felt stuffy, like there wasn’t enough air. “They… are about eight times stronger on average than most ‘surface dwellers’. The average Atlantean can lift about a ton.”
“A ton. That is a tactical disadvantage for us.”
“They are also fitter than the average person here in the States. Constant swimming.”
“So he can lift a ton. That’s fairly strong but still puts him at a disadvantage in the League. I’ll have to remember that.”
“Actually sir, there are reports that he is stronger. No one is sure why, the ‘curse of Kordax’, Poseidon’s blessing, or just that he wasn’t raised under a dome covered city.”
“How much stronger?”
“Reports vary. It looks like he doesn’t get too specific about that. Our best guess is that he’s nine times stronger than other Atlanteans. At the very least.”
“Nine times…” the man leaned back in his chair and thought quietly for a second. “I don’t think that changes things. You mentioned the length of time he had to stay out of water.”
“It varies depending on the humidity and temperature. Apparently he used to only last an hour or two but he has developed a tolerance for dehydration. Or maybe he’s just better at drawing moisture from the air. We just don’t know.”
“Is he bulletproof?”
“Ummm…”
“It’s a simple question I didn’t think you’d have so much trouble over it. Can he be killed with a gun?”
“His body is more dense than an average human's. Much more.” The researcher ran the back of his hand across his brow. “Blunt impacts do less damage but piercing attacks will penetrate his skin. But his body tissue is so dense and strong…”
“Yes or no. Do guns hurt him?”
“Yes. But you would need a high caliber gun, and maybe armor piercing bullets to be sure to kill him.”
“What else is in that booklet of yours?”
“Economic status, trade information, diplomatic history, military intelligence. Usual information on another foreign power.”
“Give it here.”
He took the booklet from the slightly trembling hand and opened it up to the military section. If the worst came to pass they would need to know what their enemy was capable of. He ran his hand across the top of his smooth head and read the information on sub technology closely. Fast moving highly advanced submersibles, varying in size from destroyer sized to smaller personal vehicles. They fit the description. “That will be all.”
Relieved the shaken man stood up slowly making sure his legs still supported his weight. “Thank you very much for your time, Mr. President, it is an honor,” he said holding out a trembling hand expectedly.
He didn’t move except to turn the page, his eyes never leaving the text. “If I have any more questions I’ll have someone contact you.”
The man withdrew his hand and slowly walked out of the oval office.
To Be Continued in Aquaman #7...
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He sank into the soft smooth leather of the chair like a rock into mud. The chair was custom made to fit the contours of his body and the pale tan leather was lion-skin imported from Africa. He liked the idea of the one of the most vicious and dangerous animals on the planet being used to cushion his behind. The chair swiveled smoothly, freshly oiled every day. He turned to face one of his underlings.
He looked at him for a few seconds before talking, glared at him motionless and silently, letting him soak up his presence and authority first. He straightened the silk tie on his several thousand-dollar Armani suit and then pressed his fingertips together while his hands rested on his redwood desk. “So the report is complete?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
The other man sat in a professional, but plain looking, wooden chair with short legs so the person sitting would be forced to look slightly upward. He shifted slightly from discomfort, not all due to the chair. “Yes. As per your request sir, all the information we have on Atlantis and King Orin,” he said, holding up a thick softbound booklet of a little over a hundred pages.
“Summarize it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard. Just the essentials to refresh my memory.”
The man flipped through the book anxiously, he wished he’d had the foresight to pick up a stronger anti-perspirant. “Well… um… it was sunk by a skull-shaped meteor approximately 40, 000 years ago. The dome had already been built to keep out intruders.”
“Skull-shaped meteor?”
“That’s what it says. The Atlanteans were then mutated using a special serum that made them able to breathe underwater. The people of the Sister City Tritonis were magically altered and eventually became mer-people.”
“Death’s head space rocks, transformational potions, and magical mermaids. Is this research or a fairly tale?”
“Ummm… this is what we know. It did take place in 38,000 BC. That’s 33,000 before the earliest known human civilization. Still mostly wandering barbarian tribes and the like.” The researcher squirmed again.
He turned in the leather chair and looked out the picture window behind him at the grassy lawn, the hedges carefully sculpted and grass noticeably greener on his side. He paid people a lot of money to keep it that way. “Continue.”
“The king back then, Orin the first… Aquaman is named after him… had his daughter raped by his own brother’s son. She gave birth to a green-scaled infant with blonde hair known as Kordax. He led the Tritonians against Poseidonis and had his left hand cut off as punishment. From that point on all blond haired Atlantean children are said to suffer the ‘curse of Kordax’.”
“Aquaman is blond. Enough ancient history, skip ahead and talk about him.”
“Well there is a lot of contrary information,” the frazzled man said, skimming through the book, “There are rumors he was a half-breed, that his mother was an Atlantean and his father a lighthouse keeper. But recent information acquired from the JLA data banks say otherwise. How exactly did you get access to the League’s computers sir?”
The chair spun round and twin-glaring eyes stared down the small researcher. He spoke slowly and deliberately adding emphasis to each and every word, “I have my means.”
“I… I… I didn’t mean to question you…”
“No I’m sure you didn’t. You were saying.”
“Oh right… the League’s files say that Aquaman was the illegitimate son of Atlanna, the queen of Atlantis, and Atlan an immortal sorcerer, who dates back from a couple generations after the sinking.”
“You’re getting off track.”
“Aquaman was born with blond hair, the curse of Kordax, and abandoned on a coral reef to die. They didn’t know that when the tide receded he would be able to breathe in the air or survive for longer than an hour. He was found and raised by dolphins and eventually a friendly lighthouse keeper. That must be where the legend came from.”
“He was raised by dolphins? That is as unbelievable as skull meteorites.”
“Yes, but these reports were from the JLA and DEO databases. Based on testimonies from Aquaman himself.”
“Yes, yes. Continue.”
“After that things get murky. He apparently traveled the globe and rediscovered his home. A little over a decade ago he aided the Flash against one of his rogues. The press dubbed him ‘Aquaman’. He forms the Justice League along with…”
“I believe I know what happens after. Why did they accept him into the League? Talking to fish and breathing underwater are not very useful powers.”
“Well like all the people of Atlantis he is super strong.”
“Ah yes, I had heard that. Exactly how much stronger are they?”
The man flipped to close to the end. He felt stuffy, like there wasn’t enough air. “They… are about eight times stronger on average than most ‘surface dwellers’. The average Atlantean can lift about a ton.”
“A ton. That is a tactical disadvantage for us.”
“They are also fitter than the average person here in the States. Constant swimming.”
“So he can lift a ton. That’s fairly strong but still puts him at a disadvantage in the League. I’ll have to remember that.”
“Actually sir, there are reports that he is stronger. No one is sure why, the ‘curse of Kordax’, Poseidon’s blessing, or just that he wasn’t raised under a dome covered city.”
“How much stronger?”
“Reports vary. It looks like he doesn’t get too specific about that. Our best guess is that he’s nine times stronger than other Atlanteans. At the very least.”
“Nine times…” the man leaned back in his chair and thought quietly for a second. “I don’t think that changes things. You mentioned the length of time he had to stay out of water.”
“It varies depending on the humidity and temperature. Apparently he used to only last an hour or two but he has developed a tolerance for dehydration. Or maybe he’s just better at drawing moisture from the air. We just don’t know.”
“Is he bulletproof?”
“Ummm…”
“It’s a simple question I didn’t think you’d have so much trouble over it. Can he be killed with a gun?”
“His body is more dense than an average human's. Much more.” The researcher ran the back of his hand across his brow. “Blunt impacts do less damage but piercing attacks will penetrate his skin. But his body tissue is so dense and strong…”
“Yes or no. Do guns hurt him?”
“Yes. But you would need a high caliber gun, and maybe armor piercing bullets to be sure to kill him.”
“What else is in that booklet of yours?”
“Economic status, trade information, diplomatic history, military intelligence. Usual information on another foreign power.”
“Give it here.”
He took the booklet from the slightly trembling hand and opened it up to the military section. If the worst came to pass they would need to know what their enemy was capable of. He ran his hand across the top of his smooth head and read the information on sub technology closely. Fast moving highly advanced submersibles, varying in size from destroyer sized to smaller personal vehicles. They fit the description. “That will be all.”
Relieved the shaken man stood up slowly making sure his legs still supported his weight. “Thank you very much for your time, Mr. President, it is an honor,” he said holding out a trembling hand expectedly.
He didn’t move except to turn the page, his eyes never leaving the text. “If I have any more questions I’ll have someone contact you.”
The man withdrew his hand and slowly walked out of the oval office.
To Be Continued in Aquaman #7...
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