Justice League of America - Batman: The Stone King (2 page)

Are you sure that's best?
Superman queried.

Positive,
Batman thought curtly.
Whatever we do, that dam is coming down
–
and time is running out.

Batman blanked off his mind, shutting out any further protest Superman might make.

Of all the dozens of members of the Justice League, from the underwater monarch Aquaman to the mighty Steel, Batman was the least natural team player. His years of service as Gotham City's Dark Knight had turned him into the perfect lone hero. But often, in
a
team situation, he came across as arrogant and high-handed–especially when he insisted things be done exactly as he wanted, not caring if it rubbed his teammates the wrong way.

J'onn J'onzz glided down to join Batman on his crag, the red and green of the Martian's costume glinting in the fading sunlight. The whole dam had been cleared; Jim Gordon and the others now stood a good hundred yards back from any danger.

The two heroes watched in silence as Wonder Woman and Superman began their colossal task. Operating at superspeed, their movement so fast it was only a blur, they ripped into the valley bottom below the dam with their bare hands. Both possessed super-strength and invulnerability; their hands were superior to any tool.

Within seconds, the first fifty yards of a wide channel, thirty feet deep, had been scoured out, leaving massive piles of infill on the channel sides. It was like watching a videotape in fast-forward, the duo working at such a rate that only the constantly growing levees were evidence of their presence.

And all the while, Green Lantern fixed his willpower on the dam, vibrant green energy pouring from his ring to hold back the waters of the man-made lake.

At last, Manhunter spoke. "How do you know we cannot save the dam?"

"Trust me," Batman replied, glad that his colleague was using speech instead of telepathy. Though he would never admit it to the others, hearing their voices inside his head always unsettled him, made him feel as if his mind was being probed–despite knowing that Manhunter would never do such a thing. "I've done the research."

They had a lot in common, these two, not least the fact that both their backgrounds were shrouded in grief and pain. As an eight-year-old child, Bruce Wayne had watched his parents mercilessly gunned down before his horrified eyes. That traumatic event had changed his life forever, eventually leading him to don the costume and mask of Gotham's most feared crime fighter.

Similarly, J'onn J'onzz had watched helplessly as his entire society died. An ancient way of life that had lasted for millennia on the Red Planet had sunk into terminal decay and decline. Nothing–and no one– had survived except him. Like Batman, the pain of what he had lost would be locked in his heart forever.

Manhunter threw his companion a sidelong glance.

"We all know you are not in the habit of making mistakes," he acknowledged. "But sometimes, we would appreciate being taken more fully into your confidence. After all, the Justice League is a team."

Batman nodded slightly to signify he understood. Having worked alone for so long, it was easy to forget how sensitive teamwork could be.

Evacuation complete!
They heard the thought an instant before they saw the red streak that told them the Flash was returning from his duties.

Wally West had been doused in a mysterious chemical formula that changed the entire molecular structure of his body, giving him the ability to move thousands of times faster than normal. Only he could have covered the dozens of square miles in the valley in little more than minutes.

I even had time to move all the livestock!
The very air seemed to ripple as Flash slowed from superspeed to zero, drawing to a halt alongside the duo on the crag.

"Don't stop now," Batman told him, though his eyes never lifted from Green Lantern. "Check that the hydroelectric plant employees are all clear. There's a complex of tunnels and offices under the turbine rooms–might still be people in there."

Flash was gone as silently as he'd arrived.

Manhunter threw Batman a quizzical glance. "How do you know–"

"I memorized the plans when the dam was built. You never know when information will be useful."

The Martian nodded to himself. He should have known, really. Batman was a perfectionist. He never left anything to chance. In his business, with no superpowers to protect him, Batman was in constant danger in a way few of the other Leaguers ever were. Superman might have been vulnerable to the cosmic mineral kryptonite, and Manhunter was weakened by fire, but they didn't encounter those dangers very often. Batman walked with death at his shoulder every night of his life. For this reason alone, J'onn wouldn't have been surprised if Batman had committed to memory the ground plans for every building in Gotham.

"I will assist Flash," J'onn stated, and soared away from the crag.

Even across the distance that separated them, Batman could see the growing strain on Green Lantern's face. His alien ring seemed to possess almost infinite power, but the application of that power depended entirely on the will of the ring wearer. Lantern was holding back an unbelievable volume of water, and the effort was beginning to take its toll.

Batman slipped open a pouch on his Utility Belt and pulled out a pair of miniature binoculars. Taking his eyes off Green Lantern for the first time, he trained the 50X binoculars down the valley, tracking the massive spoil-pile that marked out Superman and Wonder Woman's progress. They had almost reached the outskirts of the city, a feat of power akin to building the Great Wall of China in a morning.

Marveling at the sheer strength that allowed them to excavate this engineering wonder with their bare hands. Batman snapped the binoculars shut and replaced them in their pouch.
These beings can shift planets in their orbit,
he'd thought more than once in his many years as a League member.
What am I doing working with them?

Manhunter and the Flash reappeared silently by his side. The site was clear. It was time.

This is it, Lantern,
Batman thought.
Let the dam go!

The energy field faded and vanished, and Green Lantern shot high into the air under the power of his ring.

For an endless second, nothing happened. No water spouted from the holes. The cracks in the dam face seemed frozen, checked in their relentless expansion.

Then, with a roar like some maddened behemoth, the waters broke free. There was a thunderous snap, like a giant whip cracking, and, almost in slow motion, the whole dam face crumbled into little more than a sandpile.

A mighty cataract of seething, roiling water poured from the collapsing dam, carrying thousands of tons of concrete with it. A wall of water fifty feet high swept into the craggy valley side, gouging out a half-mile section. The wave crashed over the hydroelectric plant with the intensity of a tsunami, smashing down walls and buildings as if they were toy bricks.

As Batman had realized, there was no way the tail-race and riverbed could cope with the sudden inundation. The angry waters churned as they plunged into the channel dug by Wonder Woman and Superman, spilling over the sides in massive waves, scouring away the earth and soil of the valley sides, ripping out century-old trees, carrying away rocks as big as houses.

But the channel held, funneling the waters until a ten-foot-high wave raced down it at almost a hundred miles an hour.

Minutes later, Superman and Wonder Woman hovered in the air over the city harbor, watching as the waters of Lake Gotham swept through and plunged headlong into the sea. If any ships were put in danger, they wanted to be on hand.

"Excellent." Wonder Woman nodded her satisfaction. The setting sun glinted off her tiara and the amulets she wore on her wrists, making her look every inch the Amazon Princess that she was. "There's no damage caused except the digging of the channel itself, and we can fill that in once the waters recede."

She soared higher in the air, beckoning for Superman to follow. "Let' s join the others."

Seconds later, they stood with their companions on the crag, looking down on the scene of destruction. More than half the dam had disappeared, carried off by the raging flow. The surging waters had settled slightly, but it would take days for the man-made lake to drain off completely.

"So . . . why wouldn't you let us fuse the dam?" Superman asked Batman.

"There were suspicions when the dam was built," Batman told them all. "Substandard materials. For every rip you fused, a dozen others would have opened."

Batman turned away, then thought better of it as he recollected J'onn J'onzz's subtle reminder that they were a team. "I wasn't withholding information from anyone," the vigilante continued. "There just wasn't time to explain. All in all, we did a good job."

"Maybe better than you think," the Flash grinned. "We might even be rewarded for services to archaeology. Look down there–"

He pointed to the valley side just below the dam, where the broiling water had swept away thousands of tons of soil and vegetation.

Revealed there, in the last bright rays of the setting sun, stood a hundred-foot-tall truncated stone pyramid. It seemed out of place–so alien and enigmatic. Shafts of mellow purple light played for a moment across its stonework. Then the sun was gone, and the pyramid remained shrouded in darkness.

Gotham County, October 19

"Incredible!"

Jenny Ayles stood on the top of the pyramid, a flat platform about thirty feet square, her head turning slowly to take in the panoramic views. Night was falling, and the surrounding Gotham Hills seemed to glow deep purple in the fading light. The planet Venus shone brightly just above the horizon, and the first stars were already twinkling softly in the rapidly darkening sky.

"This view can't have changed all that much since the pyramid was first built."

Beside her, Jenny's companion nodded agreement. "Nearly five thousand years," Peter Glaston murmured. "More than a hundred and fifty human generations." He glanced up, raising his right hand to point to the brightest star. "Of course, the land might be the same, but the night sky was very different. Polaris wasn't the Pole Star then. It was one of the stars in the constellation Taurus, I think."

"And tonight we'll find out if the ancients recorded what they saw in the architecture of their pyramid," a skeptical voice broke in from behind them. "Right, Peter?"

Jenny and Peter started. They hadn't realized Robert Mills, professor of archaeology at Gotham University and leader of their little expedition, was standing so dose. Instantly, Peter became defensive at the faintly mocking tone in the older man's voice.

"You might find it far-fetched, Professor," Peter said evenly, his lanky frame turning to acknowledge Mills's presence, "but you can't deny it is a possibility. And you've always taught us to investigate
every
aspect of an artifact."

Mills didn't reply. Casting his eyes to the side, Peter could see the renowned archaeologist's handsome face as he appraised the night sky, now filled with a thousand glittering stars. The aquiline nose and prematurely silver-gray hair gave Mills a distinguished, almost aristocratic look that men envied and women admired.

"I mean, look what they discovered about Stonehenge," Peter went on, irritated with himself for being so sensitive to Mills's unspoken criticism.

It had been rumored for centuries that the massive stones that made up England's most famous neolithic monument were somehow connected to the night sky. But confirmation had to wait for the creation of computer software that could accurately plot the changes in the night sky due to Earth's tilt against the solar plane. Now, archaeologists were turning up established and potential stellar alignments at ancient sites all over the world.

"A possibility, yes. But not a probability," Professor Mills said smoothly. "We mustn't allow preconceptions to color anything we might find."

Peter took a deep breath. Sensing he had more to say, Jenny grasped his arm and squeezed it lightly, a gentle hint that he'd said enough already. Peter was the professor's star student, and they'd always argued in friendly, if heated, fashion. But their relationship had deteriorated seriously since the previous year.

Jenny sighed. Peter and Robert had good cause to dislike each other, and she had given them that cause. With increasing frequency, she found herself trying to act as a buffer between them. Somehow, it was easier than facing up to what had happened and sorting it out like intelligent adults.

"We should join the others," Jenny found herself saying. "They'll be cursing us for slacking while they do all the work."

She took a step away, tugging on Peter's arm for him to follow. Obstinately, he didn't budge, and Jenny's heart sank.

"One of the reasons our profession advances so slowly," Peter said, choosing his words carefully, "is that certain
older
archaeologists refuse to approach their work with an open mind."

Robert Mills smiled, his expression invisible to the others in the darkness that swathed the landscape.

"I'll check with Lorann and the guys," he said amicably, as if unaware of the accusation and insult in Peter's words. Flicking on the heavy-duty flashlight he held in one hand, the professor walked away across the pyramid's flattened top.

It was almost a month since the Gotham Dam had burst and its swirling waters divulged the mysterious structure. What the expedition had established was astonishing. Radiocarbon dating of vegetable fibers found in the structure's foundations pointed to its having been built approximately forty-five hundred years ago–the only such pyramid ever discovered in America. Unlike the Great Pyramids at Giza, this one had been built in steps, in the same fashion as the pyramids of Central and South America, or the ziggurats of ancient Babylon. Europe's largest Stone Age structure, Silbury Hill in England, had been similarly constructed. Ten feet of rock, ten feet of chalk with soil infill–the process repeated until the pyramid stood a hundred feet high, ending in a flat, rocky platform about thirty feet square.