Several Justice League heroes had made the long trip out to the edge of the solar system and back, running check after check. The verdict was clear: the Ebon Trade Alliance was exactly what it claimed to be—a commercial fleet, peaceful and unarmed.
When the news reached the public, the reaction was electric. Earth is finally entering the cosmic age.
Fifteen enormous warships escorted a small planetoid—a converted asteroid serving as a mobile marketplace—as the convoy made its slow approach through the solar system.
Every day, people were tracking their progress online. They were at Saturn yesterday—are they past Jupiter now? What did aliens look like? Were they as awkward as in the movies, or did they resemble humans? Did they wear clothes? What did they eat? The questions were endless.
In the weeks that followed, the government's handling of the situation was, by any objective measure, impressive. Calm, coordinated, and decisive. Moira Queen's approval ratings shot upward like a rocket. Most citizens had no idea the whole thing was theater—from the outside, the government's response looked so flawless it could have been written into a textbook on crisis management.
Media crews flooded to Mars. They witnessed, with their own eyes, Moira Queen, representing Earth, shaking hands with the leader of the Trade Alliance.
Worth noting: the alien leader bore a striking resemblance to a gorilla. Of course, anyone with a brain knew the similarity was purely cosmetic—the creature was gracious, warm, and delivered several charming jokes. No Earth gorilla had ever displayed a fraction of that intelligence.
What Moira knew, and no one else could, was that this particular "gorilla" was her daughter's subordinate. She faced him without a trace of nerves, projecting dignity and grace in front of the cameras—the image of a great civilization's leader, composed and courteous.
Grodd, for his part, knew this woman was his boss's mother, and that his job today was to perform. He kept himself humble, deferential, and impeccably polite—a performance that earned him genuine goodwill from most of the press.
Even Superman, who had snuck into the media pool under a reporter's credentials, found himself warming to the gorilla-like alien. An alien with that kind of inner peace? Truly, the universe contains wonders I haven't imagined.
Clark had been feeling ground down lately—day after day of eating, sleeping, and fighting extraterrestrials, until it started to feel like the entire galaxy was filled with nothing but hostiles. Grodd, improbably, had relit something in him. There were good people out there. Even in space.
None of the League members picked up on anything suspicious. Thea's familiarity with the power rings far surpassed Hal Jordan's, and the Green Lantern ring's scan confirmed that Grodd registered as a perfectly authentic "extraterrestrial."
Some people in the U.S. military had encountered Grodd before, during experiments conducted alongside the Reverse-Flash. But to the average human, it was hard to tell one gorilla face from another—and besides, the Grodd they'd seen had been younger and smaller. Even if he'd maintained his original size, given Americans' legendary inability to distinguish one face from another in unfamiliar species, they never would have made the connection.
Grodd brought a small landing craft down to Earth and delivered a speech at the United Nations headquarters on the theme of cosmic peace. It was exactly what the current moment called for. Both sides' representatives quickly hammered out a series of trade agreements.
The Ebon Trade Alliance established three exchange points on Earth—one in Asia, one in the Americas, one in Europe. Enormous quantities of alien goods, technology, equipment, and weapons began flowing into human view. In exchange, the Alliance asked for minerals, steel, and fuel.
Nestled in the embrace of old trees, a quiet estate that had stood for generations was shattered this afternoon by the sound of one car after another braking hard in the driveway. The small animals that lived in the surrounding woods had no idea what had descended on this usually peaceful place. They retreated to their tree hollows and watched the steady stream of humans with wide, frightened eyes.
"Big brother, check out my new holographic watch—too cool, right? Fully brainwave-controlled. I'm telling you, Earth tech would need twenty years to reach this level." A young man was showing off his new device to the person beside him.
He wasn't alone. Throughout the estate, people were trading notes and comparisons. Alien technology had poured into their world, and as always, the wealthy were the first to benefit.
Still buying a yacht? How pedestrian. I've already got a magnetic airship.
Your dress was hand-cut by an international design master? Mine lets me fly. Can yours do that?
The younger generation clustered together, showing off their acquisitions, drinking in the admiring and envious looks of those around them—and falling deeper into it with every passing minute, completely intoxicated.
While the young ones bragged and postured, the elders closed the doors and discussed the future behind them.
"We have information from the Ebon Trade Alliance," said the silver-haired patriarch, surveying the senior members of the branch families. "They're planning to put ten fifth-level civilization warships up for sale. Your thoughts?"
Families that had persisted for centuries inevitably accumulated enough internal complications to fill a library. To avoid the worst of it—showing up to meetings armed—most branches lived at opposite ends of the world and pretended not to know each other most of the time.
When something significant happened, they gathered. When nothing did, they acted like strangers. That was the only formula that kept the peace. But the arrival of the Ebon Trade Alliance had upended many of those fixed traditions. The situation demanded that they stand together under the same family banner and decide their future.
"The family must move forward. Standing still is dying."
"I think we should wait and watch—the situation isn't clear yet."
"Wait? Have you looked at the star charts the Ebon Trade Alliance provided? There are only a handful of viable targets near the solar system. While we sit around watching, what do you think the other families are doing?"
The old men had barely exchanged three sentences before they were already snapping at each other.
The patriarch sat without moving, letting them exhaust themselves. When they finally went quiet, he spoke slowly. "We might afford to wait. Our heirs cannot. The family policy of operating from the shadows—controlling things from behind the curtain—does not satisfy them anymore. They want applause. They want recognition. They want people kneeling before them. And the current arrangement gives them none of that."
A silence settled over the elders. Every branch had the same problem. The older generation calculated every move from seventeen different angles; the younger generation had been born with silver spoons, and asking them to sit on mountains of wealth while remaining invisible was asking for trouble.
The choice was becoming increasingly clear: stay on Earth as invisible billionaires, or go out into the stars and rule. For the heirs, the answer wasn't difficult at all.
The elders could suppress one or two. They couldn't suppress an entire generation of successors standing together. Their only option was to compromise—because you couldn't execute all your potential heirs.
"The DuPont family has already made the first move," the patriarch said. "Word is they're assembling significant resources—they may even move before the military to acquire one of those warships. Keep in mind that on the cosmic scale, Earth is barely a third-level civilization. Those ships are fifth-level." He exhaled quietly. The technology was simply too extraordinary. He was losing sleep over it.
"Our stockpiles aren't as deep as theirs. Could we negotiate exchanges with the other families—trade currency for materials?"
The instincts of wolves, the whole lot of them. The moment they smelled something valuable, none of them wanted to let go. If another family had it, they had to have it too.
"The Queen family has always been rooted in steel. Under the late Robert Queen, it was steel and manufacturing all the way. Since that young woman took over, she's been aggressively consolidating energy companies as well. Between the two of them—mother and daughter—they're sitting on staggering reserves. What's their position on all of this?" asked one elder with sharp, calculating eyes.