Hi, everyone. I'm sorry I haven't been responding to reviews lately. What with it being summer and all, I should have plenty of time, but despite barely talking to anyone other than my family for weeks (zoom meetings don't count), I'm finding it weirdly difficult to gather social energy... so... yeah... idk.

But! I am reading your reviews, and it always makes me happy to receive them, so thank you!

Hope you enjoy reading!

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Chapter 209: The Road to Justice

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The first thing Clockwork did upon reaching Daniel was sweep him into a hug. On the flight to intercept his group, Clockwork had been able to clear his head, somewhat. He knew his mental instability was just lurking around the corner, waiting for him to drop his guard, but for now he was holding things together.

The episode he had endured after Daniel left had been instructive. He was much improved, following the return of his memories, but he wasn't completely healed. Not yet. Better to find out in Elysium than in Libra.

The dependence of his mental health on Daniel and Danielle was disturbing, however, and an unfair burden to place on their shoulders. He would have to work on that. Perhaps in a controlled environment.

"I'm sorry I left like that," said Daniel, his words muffled by Clockwork's shoulder. "But I had to."

"I know, I know," said Clockwork. "I know you had to."

"You are all on your way to Libra?" asked Pandora.

"Yep," said Adrestia. "Bringing witnesses and volunteers for the jury. Are you headed that way, too, Lady Pandora, Lord Clockwork?"

The procession had come to a stop as the ghosts of Amity Park turned to watch Clockwork and Pandora approach. Most of them had seen Ancients before, considering the destruction Undergrowth and Vortex had wrought on the town, but Clockwork knew that he and Pandora were more highly regarded and more elusive. They couldn't be called celebrities, but they were certainly prominent figures.

"Yes," said Pandora. "We are. Would it trouble you if we joined you on your way?"

"Not at all," said Adrestia. "The more the merrier."

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Amity Park was home to a small prison. A very small, mostly defunded prison. Since the ghost attacks had started, it wasn't used very much. Most of the people there served a few weeks, at maximum. Freakshow had once been a resident, but he'd been transferred shortly after he'd been convicted.

When the GIW took over, they used it to detain people who broke curfew, or who were 'too contaminated.' When the last attack happened, nothing too horrible had happened to the detainees. They had been subjected to disgusting conditions, violence, and repeated medical tests, but all of them had been alive.

Now, the prison was being used to house the few surviving GIW agents and scientists.

The fact that any of them survived at all, presented both an opportunity and a moral quandary. On one hand, any information about what the GIW's goals and methods were would be useful. On the other hand, Amity Park had limited resources, and people were still out for blood after all they had suffered at the hands of the GIW.

Some people worried that such feelings would be taken out on the prisoners.

Wes didn't know how he felt about that. On one hand, objectively, he'd always thought that prisoners, human beings, should be treated with a certain minimum amount of respect.

On the other… Those people… If anyone deserved to be treated badly, to suffer, they did, didn't they?

Wes shook his head and swallowed back the bile threatening to rise in his throat.

"You don't have to do this, kid."

"I'm an adult," said Wes, shooting a glare at the older man, "and I do. I've somehow wound up on the city council. I can't just sit around and do nothing. It's not like I'm doing the interrogation myself, anyway." He turned his attention back to the one-way mirror. "When're O and K getting here?"

The man checked his watch. "Soon. You sure you'll be okay? You look a little green."

"You aren't going to, like, hit them, or anything, are you?"

"No. I sure would like to, but it's too easy to go too far. Can't let yourself start."

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"Good news, everybody!" said Ishiyama. "There is no radioactivity outside the shield."

"Was that even something on the table?" asked Harriet, faintly horrified.

"Unfortunately, it was something we had to consider after the GIW dropped that missile on us. But our port authority had a Geiger counter, and we were able to use that to check. We should be able to go through with out plan to send people out to gather support."

"What about anti-ecto agents?" asked Sunset.

"What?"

"Ectoplasm destroying stuff," said the cowboy ghost. "The plan is to have some of us ghosts carry you humans out, right? At least some of you, with the rest on foot to fool detectors. But if there's anti-ghost stuff spread around, we won't be able to do that."

"Ah," said Ishiyama. "That's… How would you go about testing that?"

"I don't know. We'll have to ask around."

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Tucker woke with a start. Lately, his dreams had been full of sand, sun, and memories.

Duulaman's memories.

He woke up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Obviously, his dreams were biased, but Duulaman seemed like he had been pretty chill for a ruler of ancient Egypt. Progressive, almost.

Still, Duulaman's life had often been filled with casual violence. Executions. Rituals. Battles. Also, slavery was a thing in ancient Egypt.

Duulaman had worked to make peace with his neighbors and had put laws into place to limit cruelty to slaves, but those things were still there, and it was jarring to come back to himself after seeing those things, after looking at them like they were normal.

He inhaled, deeply, and glanced at the unstrung bow hung in the corner of his (small, but private) room. Did he have time for practice, before his meeting with the Egyptians this morning? Probably not.

Standing, he stretched and got dressed. Libra had provided all of them with several changes of clothes, with a warning that they weren't sure if they'd hold up outside the Ghost Zone, being made largely of ectoplasm.

He finished the rest of his morning routine in good time, even eating a piece of something bacon-like for breakfast, before leaving the 'human wing' in search of the Egyptians.

But, as these things often turned out, they found him first.

It was a small group, dressed in white linen and elaborate hair dresses that may or may not have been wigs. Tucker knew their names, although he wasn't sure if they had introduced themselves to him in this lifetime or not. He gave them a small smile and a wave, but halfway through that motion his eyes fell on the thing their leader was carrying.

The woman, her name was Mutemwiya, held before her jeweled staff, topped by a scarab and a long-winged bird. The length of it was carved with hieroglyphs. Symbols of magic Tucker had been learning in his dreams.

He froze.

"We know this humble gift of ours is not as fine as the one you made in your first life, my Pharaoh," murmured the woman. "But it would honor us if you used it while your proper tool is outside your reach, however temporary that state of affairs may be."

"Um," said Tucker. "Thanks. It's beautiful."

Mutemwiya smiled.

"But you guys, like, do realize that I don't really know how to use this, right? I mean, I'm still really sketchy on the stuff you've already shown me, and I've been studying." He brandished his PDA. He had recorded everything they said and had taken notes.

Actually, Tucker was more than a little surprised that the PDA hadn't run out of storage space. He had added extra memory to it, but he'd had it almost full before this whole thing, but he hadn't gotten any notifications about the memory being full.

He decided to revisit that thought later.

"We do know, Pharaoh," said Mutemwiya. "That is why we wish for you to learn, to remember."

"Okay," said Tucker. They'd had similar conversations every time they met. Tucker didn't really feel like Duulaman, even if he was the pharaoh's reincarnation, but the Egyptians were quite insistent that he was. "As long as that's clear." He reached out and took the staff. It felt slightly electric under his hands. "What are we working on today?"

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Sam's advocate was named Columbine, and Sam was certain she'd been a nun in a previous life. She hadn't asked the ghost, of course. That would be rude.

"I'm afraid that's outside our ability to affect," said Columbine.

Sam sighed, and slid down in her chair. "It isn't fair," she said. "Danny shouldn't have to do that."

"He might not have to. It isn't decided yet. If he arrives soon, God willing, he will be able to register his disagreement with the proposed measures. His opinion will have much more sway."

"Hemlock is arguing against it, isn't he?"

"Yes, but an advocate arguing for something is often less… arresting than the person in question calling for it themselves. The way things are now, everyone can tell themselves they are acting in Phantom's best interest, even if Hemlock says otherwise. Is there anything else you would like me to try for, in respect to the treatment of witnesses?"

"Are you sure you can't try to do, like, a blanket ban on manipulating the minds of witnesses? I mean, Danny's a witness, too."

"I will try," said Columbine, dubiously. A bell rang in the middle distance. Columbine began to tidy her papers. "The committee is reconvening. Please be sure to send a messenger if you recall anything or change your mind."

"Thanks," said Sam, also standing.

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"What are you wearing?" asked Sam, from the doorway.

"The Egyptians gave it to me," said Tucker. "I think it's cool, right?"

"Sure," said Sam. She sat down on his bed. "Did they give you any legal advice?"

"I think they're a little confused about why I don't want the Fentons to be super punished, so, no, not really. What about you?"

"Not really. Columbine said that she'd walk me through questions she thinks I'll be asked when I'm called to witness, once the initial committee is done. We're not going to be able to get out of the truth oaths, but we'll be able to avoid topics. Be selective, you know."

"Well, we definitely have experience with that. I'm worried about everyone else, though. What do you think the odds are that they won't be called?"

Sam picked up Tucker's pillow and pressed it over her face. "I know. Ugh. I feel like we aren't doing anything productive."

"Well, we're preparing for when we have to fight that eyeball dude again. That's productive. Also: magic."

"Mmf," said Sam. "Have you seen Jazz this morning?"

"Not yet. Thinking about training?"

"Yeah, I want to see if I can throw some stuff at you guys."

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Jazz could now easily maintain an even dozen of glowing phantasmal hands. She had also picked up a talent for summoning yellow fire to her hands. She hadn't yet determined what else she could do with it. Throwing it didn't seem to be an option. It clung to her skin.

But, at least in the area of combat effectiveness, Jazz thought she had a leg up on Sam and Tucker.

Sam's camera powers were good for information-gathering purposes, and she had hopes for her plant powers, but, at the moment, they were limited to making plants grow. Which, even with ghostly plants, had limited utility. She couldn't control them. Not like Undergrowth did.

Meanwhile, with Tucker, it seemed that the magic the Egyptians were teaching him was subtle more than flashy. Most of the things he had told Jazz and Sam about had long-term effects. Curses. Blessings. Enchantments. Incantations set in stone.

But Jazz's ghostly hands were a more immediate threat.

Jazz wasn't sure how she felt about that. She would have been more comfortable if her small degree of liminality lent itself more to, say, empathic powers, or telepathy. Those, she felt, would have better mirrored her personality and interests.

But she wouldn't deny that her spectral hands were useful. Very useful. Likely more useful than telepathy would have been, if she were honest with herself, and less morally questionable.

Their practice sessions on one of Libra's lawns had, so far, mainly consisted Tucker and Sam teaming up against Jazz. Two against one.

They had tried to get Valerie to join in, but she had refused. None of the other students had really developed their abilities to the point where they could participate. Even if they had, well, mused Jazz, as she sidestepped a punch thrown by Sam, they practiced more than just ghost powers.

One of her hands grasped Sam's ankle and pulled her off her feet. On the other side of the lawn, Tucker struggled against a team of hands trying to fend them off with small bursts of electricity that leapt from the top of his new staff.

She let herself smile a little. She wouldn't be really be happy until Danny was here, and the trial was over, but this was a good distraction.

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Even Sojourn couldn't open portals to just anywhere. It took time and power to go from place to place.

He took a break on Mars. The red and blue sky hung over him, calming. If anyone had been there to see, he would have stood out against the rust-colored soil, with his white robe and green skin.

But there wasn't.

… Or was there? He tracked movement across one of the hills in the distance.

Now, he knew he hadn't been gone for long enough for life to develop on this planet. Perhaps a ghost had come through a natural portal and been stranded?

He flew to where he had seen the movement and looked around.

Without warning, a girl popped up from behind a small hillock, a few meters away. Her skin was shiny grey, with small red freckles sprinkled across her features.

"Who are you?" she demanded in a tongue favored by the Neverborn, her voice pitched high.

"I am Sojourn, little one," he said. "What are you called?"

The girl scowled. "You can't be Sojourn! He's been missing forever."

"Missing is hardly the right term," said Sojourn. "I've known exactly where I've been the whole time."

"I'm Sojourner," said the girl. "Are you really an Ancient?"

"I'm not an Ancient anymore," he said. "I resigned."

"Oh," said the girl. "Why are you here?"

"I'm just resting a bit, before moving on. I can take you back to Earth if you like."

The girl shook her head forcefully. "No. I can't go to Earth yet! I've barely scratched the surface here. My report isn't ready!"

"You want to stay here, all by yourself?"

"I'm exploring," said Sojourner.

Sojourn smiled. "I can understand that. Perhaps I'll see you again." With a wave of his hand, he opened a portal.

"Maybe," said Sojourner.

Sojourn stepped through.

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The front steps of Libra and its beautifully carved doors came into view as Danny, Ellie, and Clockwork talked. Their topic was, of course, the clones, and how to stabilize them.

"Clockwork," said Pandora, sharply.

"What?" said Clockwork.

"Is that Sojourn? In front of the doors?"