Un bebé mordelón

The neon lights of the black market on the moon of Stygia-4 flickered with a greasy, artificial glow. Saint Walker adjusted the shimmering veils of his disguise, feeling the unfamiliar weight of silk and beads against his pale skin. As a Blue Lantern, he was accustomed to the simplicity of his uniform, but the mission to track a shipment of stolen power batteries required him to blend into the shadows of the galaxy’s most decadent corners.

Disguised as a dancer in a high-end den of iniquity, Walker moved with a grace that was natural to his species, though his heart remained heavy with the vulgarity surrounding him. He ignored the whistles and the crude comments from the drunken patrons, his glowing eyes scanning the room for his target.

However, his focus shattered when he passed the open kitchen of a nearby vendor. A massive, leathery egg—the size of a boulder—sat atop a searing grill. The chef, a multi-limbed creature with a cruel grin, raised a heavy cleaver, intending to crack the shell for a wealthy patron’s breakfast.

Suddenly, a loud *crack* echoed through the steam. The egg didn't shatter under the knife; it burst from within. A small, scaly hand tipped with tiny, razor-sharp claws punched through the shell, followed by a pair of glowing yellow eyes and a tiny, ferocious roar.

It was a Vengarian hatchling. The same species as Arkillo.

"Valuable meat, but a fighter!" the chef grunted, raising his blade again. "I’ll have to kill it quickly."

Walker didn't think. He didn't consult the Guardians or wait for backup. He moved like a streak of white light, his hand catching the chef’s wrist with surprising strength.

"This life is not yours to take," Walker said, his voice calm but vibrating with an underlying power. He reached into the folds of his dancer’s silks and pulled out a heavy pouch of credits he had been given for the undercover operation. "I am buying the hatchling. All of it."

The chef blinked, looked at the gold, and stepped back. "He’s yours, dancer. Good luck. Those things eat their parents by sunset."

Walker didn't stay to argue. He scooped the snapping, snarling bundle of scales into his silk robes and fled the market, his Blue Lantern ring flaring to life the moment he hit the atmosphere.

***

Odym was a paradise of sapphire skies and golden suns, a stark contrast to the grime of the black market. As Saint Walker touched down on the grassy plains near the central temple, he was greeted by Brother Warth and Sister Sercy.

Warth, the massive, elephantine Lantern, trumpeted softly in surprise as he saw Walker’s unusual attire. "Brother Walker? You have returned... and you appear to have embraced a very colorful aesthetic."

Sister Sercy smiled delicately, her blue skin glowing in the sunlight. "The mission was successful, I hope? But what is that moving beneath your silks?"

Walker looked down at his chest, where a small, angry head with prominent tusks was currently trying to chew through his decorative beads. "The mission is secondary. I have brought a life that was destined for the flame. I intend to raise him here, in the light of Hope."

Warth leaned down, his large trunk sniffing the air near the baby. The hatchling immediately lunged, trying to bite Warth’s trunk. The large Lantern stumbled back with a jovial laugh.

"He has the spirit of a supernova!" Warth exclaimed. "But Brother, he is a Vengarian. They are a species of great territorial aggression. Can he truly find peace on Odym?"

"Hope is not just for the peaceful, Brother Warth," Walker replied, gently stroking the baby’s head. To his surprise, the hatchling stopped snarling and leaned into the touch, letting out a sound that was half-growl, half-purr. "He will learn. But I believe he needs someone who understands his nature. I must call him."

Sercy tilted her head. "You mean Arkillo?"

Walker nodded, a faint blush touching his pale cheeks. "He is the only one who can teach the boy what it means to be a warrior of honor, rather than a beast of burden."

***

Arkillo arrived on Odym like a falling meteor. His yellow uniform hummed with the energy of Fear, and his massive, muscular frame cast a long shadow over the blue flowers. He looked around with his usual scowl, his claws twitching.

"Walker!" Arkillo roared, his voice like grinding stones. "You summoned me across three sectors. This had better be a matter of galactic security or a fight worth my time."

Saint Walker stepped forward, holding a wriggling bundle. "It is a matter of legacy, my friend."

Arkillo froze. He looked down at the tiny, scaly creature in Walker’s arms. The baby looked up at the towering Sinestro Corps member, bared its tiny fangs, and let out a high-pitched screech.

"A hatchling?" Arkillo’s voice dropped an octave, losing its edge. "Where did you find a Vengarian on this side of the sector? Our kind... we are not many."

"He was to be a meal on Stygia-4," Walker explained softly. "I could not let that happen. I want him to grow up here, but he needs a mentor. He needs to see what he can become."

Arkillo reached out a massive, scarred hand. The baby immediately grabbed Arkillo’s finger and tried to snap it off. Arkillo gave a rare, booming laugh. "He has a good grip! Strong bones."

For the next few hours, the peace of Odym was thoroughly disrupted. The baby, whom Walker had started calling 'Kilo' in honor of his friend, was a whirlwind of chaos. He chewed on Brother Warth’s ceremonial robes, knocked over Sister Sercy’s meditation crystals, and tried to hunt the local wildlife.

Every time Arkillo tried to pick him up to show him a proper combat stance, the baby would scramble away, running back to Saint Walker and hiding behind the blue-clad Lantern’s legs.

"Come here, whelp!" Arkillo barked, though there was no malice in it. "You are a Vengarian! Stand tall! Learn to strike!"

The baby poked his head out from behind Walker’s legs and blew a raspberry at the hulking yellow giant. Then, he looked up at Walker with wide, glowing eyes and tugged on his hand.

"Mama!" the baby chirped clearly.

The silence that followed was absolute. Brother Warth turned away, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Sister Sercy covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Arkillo stood frozen, his jaw dropping. "What did he just call you?"

Walker turned a deep shade of indigo, his usual composure failing him. "Kilo, no... I am... I am Saint Walker. I am a male of my species. I am not your mother."

"Mama!" the baby insisted, reaching up to be held.

Walker sighed, his heart melting despite the linguistic error. He picked the child up, and the hatchling immediately snuggled into the crook of his neck, falling fast asleep.

"It seems," Sercy whispered, "that he has chosen his primary caregiver."

Arkillo crossed his massive arms, huffing a cloud of hot air. "This is ridiculous. He is a predator. He should be calling me 'General' or 'Master.' Why does he cling to you, little Blue?"

Walker looked at Arkillo, his expression turning soft and earnest. "Perhaps because the first thing he felt in this world wasn't the heat of the grill or the edge of a blade, but the warmth of hope. He associates me with safety."

Arkillo grunted, looking at the sleeping child. He reached out, his large, rough thumb gently brushing the baby’s scales. "He’s small. Too small to be away from Vengar. But... he is strong."

"He will need your strength, Arkillo," Walker said, stepping closer. "And your protection. I can teach him to be kind, but you must teach him to be brave."

Arkillo looked from the baby to Walker. The fierce warrior of the Sinestro Corps felt a strange tightening in his chest—a sensation he usually associated with battle, but this was different. Looking at the serene Blue Lantern and the tiny version of himself, Arkillo felt a flicker of something he rarely acknowledged.

"I will stay," Arkillo muttered, looking away to hide the softening of his features. "Only to ensure he doesn't turn into a soft-hearted weakling under your influence."

"Of course," Walker smiled, knowing the truth. "Your dedication to his training is appreciated."

"Mama!" the baby mumbled in his sleep, clutching Walker’s blue ring-hand.

Warth finally let out a loud trumpet of joy. "It seems we are a family now! A very strange, very colorful family."

"Don't call us that, elephant!" Arkillo snapped, though he didn't move away.

As the suns of Odym began to set, casting a long, golden-blue glow over the landscape, the unlikely group sat together on the grass. The baby Vengarian slept soundly, tucked between the gentlest soul in the universe and the fiercest warrior in the stars.

Walker looked at Arkillo, seeing the way the yellow light of his ring softened in the presence of the blue. "Everything will be alright, Arkillo."

Arkillo didn't argue. For once, in the presence of the Blue Lantern, he didn't feel the need to stoke the fires of fear. He simply sat guard, a silent protector over the child and the man who had seen hope in a place where there was only hunger.

"I know, Walker," Arkillo whispered so quietly only the wind could hear. "I know."