Betsy stared at her, then the Cube. “But the flaw ...”
“There is no time, Elisabeth!” Roma shouted. “You must go— now!”
She was right. There was no more time. No time to think of an alternative solution; no time to contemplate what calling upon the Cube’s powers would do to her.
There was only time for a brief glance at Warren. She wanted to say so much to him, but all she could do was mouth “I love you” as she listened to the song of the Cube, tapped into its energies—
And then she was hurtling across infinity.
Leonard Jackson sat on the grass, watching the world come to an end.
In the space of only a few hours, he’d lost everything, including his beliefs—and, soon enough, his planet. He’d been abandoned by his master without a second thought, left behind so the death’s-headed Controller could chase after some fairy tale castle in the sky. And with him had gone the Cosmic Cube—the only glue that had been holding together the pieces of his mad dreams. As for the others who’d fled the castle with him, Magneto was down in the valley, tearing apart the concentration camp in search of his daughter, and the X-Men had simply vanished.
He was alone now, more alone than he’d ever been in his entire life, with no one to mourn him when he’d gone. No one to ever know he’d existed at all, actually. He’d never make his mark on history now, he reflected—he’d just be another nameless statistic, lost among the billions of people who were going to die as the overlapping Earths vied for the position of dominant reality.
He’d been such a fool, thinking he was helping to change the world for the better when he’d only been making it worse. And as he sat there, watching the worlds tear themselves apart, he wished there was only something he could do to fix all this—better yet, to have prevented it from ever happening . ..
And that was when, as if on cue, the attractive Asian woman in the blue latex outfit suddenly appeared beside him.
This was it, then. The moment she had been dreading ever since von Doom had offered her the Cube, what seemed like a million years ago now. The moment when she would have to make the ultimate sacrifice, if she were to stabilize the realities.
Betsy looked around. She had no idea where she’d landed, but it was more than likely someplace close to where the Cube had last been stored. And since the Red Skull had been the last person carrying it around, she figured it could only be the German countryside.
She experienced a severe bout of vertigo as the ground rumbled, and she came to the startling realization she was looking at three different Earths. They were layered one on top of the other, like some mad three-dimensional picture seen without the special glasses.
“All right,” she muttered, trying to psyche herself up for the task. “Let’s get this over with . . .”
She closed her eyes, and opened her psychic senses to the Cube. It sang to her, as it had on von Doom’s world, promising power beyond imagining. Why save the world, it seemed to whisper to her, when she could make one of her own? Why settle for a hero’s sacrifice when she could be worshipped as a goddess?
She fought the temptation. There was too much at stake; too many people counting on her to do what was right. The Cube wanted her to draw upon its cosmic energies? Then so be it.
She concentrated, and made a wish—for worlds to return to their rightful places, for the fabric of time and space to be repaired, for the chaos to end.
And then it felt like her soul had been ripped from her body.
The Cube seized her in an iron grip, reached deep inside her, and began drawing out every ounce of energy she possessed. It became hard to breathe, and now the feeling of vertigo she’d experienced before became constant. She was growing weaker, even as a powerful light began to surround her. She could feel something happening, but it was taking so long . . .
“Let me do it.”
Betsy started, and turned to face the young man in the Nazi uniform who was suddenly standing beside her. For a moment, she wondered how he’d been able to get so close without her being aware of his presence, but then she focused on the fact that he was holding out his hand. He wanted her to give him the Cube.
“No,” she said. “You’re one of... the Skull’s men... I’d sooner . . . give it to . . . Magneto . ..”
“You don’t understand,” he insisted. “I want to do this. I have to do this. I allowed all this to happen. I should have done something about it sooner, but... but I thought... I thought I was doing something good. I didn’t know it would be like this! I didn’t know about the deaths, or the experiments, or what the camps were really like—it was all just stuff in history books, y’know? It wasn’t real. But this...” He ran a trembling hand through his hair, and shivered. “I just didn’t know ...”
“And what is . . . your wish, if I gave you ... the Cube?” she asked.
“My ... ?” He paused. “To fix what I helped to break. To put an end to the hate and the pain and the suffering that went on, while I stood by and watched, and did nothing. To make things right again.” He held out his hand again. “Please ... let me take it.”
She thought about saying no, thought about refusing him. But then she looked into his eyes, telepathically touched his mind, and saw the goodness in the heart of this scared, confused, misguided young man. A nobility of character that the Red Skull had refused to see, equating compassion and understanding with signs of weakness.
“You’ll... die,” she gasped. “It will only work . .. if it... absorbs your life ...”
His hand never wavered. “That’s okay. I always wondered what’d it be like to die a hero.”
Gently, she placed the Cube in his hand, and immediately her legs began to wobble. The Cube had put a considerable drain on her own life. He helped her sit on the grass, then stepped back.
“Thank you ...” she began.
“Leonard,” he replied. “Leonard Jackson.”
“Thank you, Leonard,” she said, and smiled. “Thank you.”
He smiled, too, and clasped the device to his chest, fingers laced around its sides. The light grew brighter, and waves of energy began to flow from the Cube, some spreading across the land, others rising high into the night skies, until they shone from horizon to horizon like an aurora borealis. The wind intensified, whipping to near-hurricane like speeds, and Betsy had to flatten herself on the ground to keep from being blown away.
And still the light grew stronger. It was difficult to look right at it, and Betsy was forced to shade her eyes with her hand to see what was going on around her.
The ground was shaking, and she had trouble focusing her vision— it still appeared as though there were three versions of the same castle wavering in front of her. But then, slowly, the structure began to stabilize, shifting from three images, to two, then to one.
“It’s working,” she whispered. “He’s doing it..
She turned toward Leonard. The light had taken on a ball-like shape around him—a cocoon of cosmic energy. And somewhere within its depths, a good man was dying, allowing the Cube to drain away his life so that three worlds—and a multitude of interlocked dimensions— would have a chance to survive.
Remember me, she suddenly heard him say in her thoughts.
I will, Leonard, she promised. I will. Always.
The ball of light rose high into the air. It hovered miles above the land; then, without warning, it exploded, filling the night sky with the brightness of a miniature sun. Betsy gasped and turned away—
And when it faded, both Leonard Jackson and the Cosmic Cube were gone.
The winds subsided; the ground turned on its side for the last time before drifting back to sleep. And as the Earth returned to normal, Betsy rolled onto her back and looked up. The night was ablaze with stars—so many it was almost hard to believe the sky could hold them all.
And somewhere beyond them, she knew, waited a man she’d gone to hell and back to be with, whose love for her was as powerful as the cosmic forces that had threaten
ed to tear them apart. A man she so desperately wanted to be with right now—and soon would be, thanks to a selfless young man . . . and the simple wish he’d made.
23
THE TRIP back to the Starlight Citadel went much smoother this time, now that the reality-cancer was in remission, and the crystal . containing the life-force of Dimension 616 had been recovered from beneath the grillwork in the throne room, where Sat-yr-nin had dropped it. Betsy materialized in one of the debarkation suites—possibly the same one she kept popping into, although they all looked alike to her—a short time after the crisis was averted, and wasted no time in falling into Warren’s welcoming arms.
But a proper welcome would have to wait, he explained. Roma had wasted no time in assembling a hearing in the throne room, judgment to be immediately passed on the two remaining parties responsible for almost destroying an infinitude of realities: Doctor Doom and Magneto.
Taking Warren’s hand, Betsy set off at a quick sprint for the sanctum. She wanted a front row seat for this .. .
“Victor von Doom,” Roma said.
Alecto and one of his men stepped forward, pushing the boisterous dictator before them. Without his stolen powers, or the makeshift weapons that had been stripped from his armor, he didn’t present as much of a problem to the security staff.
Von Doom came to a halt before the Supreme Guardian. There was still quite a bit of damage left to be repaired in the throne room, but Roma had been adamant about dealing with the cause of the multidimensional tragedy in her sanctum. Betsy imagined it had a great deal to do with Roma proving to herself that no one was just going to barge into her home and expect her to accept the situation.
“Victor von Doom,” Roma stated, “you are accused of the disruption of the space/time continuum, the near-destruction of three planetary systems, and the loss of countless lives, across a dozen or more dimensional planes. You have expressed no remorse for your actions. As Supreme Guardian, I therefore consider you a danger to all life.” Her eyes began glowing brightly. “In conclusion, for your crimes against the omniverse, as well as your heinous assault on a celestial being, I sentence you to—”
“Your Majesty?”
The light dimmed, and Roma turned in surprise to look at the X-Men, who were standing quietly off to one side. Her gaze fell on their leader. “You wish to speak, Charles Xavier?”
“If I may.”
Roma fell silent for a few moments. She rested her chin between thumb and forefinger and frowned, obviously taking some time to contemplate the request.
“This is highly irregular, m’lady .. .” Satumyne cautioned.
“These are highly irregular circumstances, Satumyne,” the Guardian replied. “Very well, Professor.”
Xavier nudged his hovering wheelchair forward. “Your Majesty, as unusual a request as this may be, I ask that you not execute the prisoner.”
The throne room was filled with startled cries, and loud gasps of surprise. Even von Doom seemed surprised. Roma gestured for silence, then nodded for Xavier to continue.
“I realize the chaos he unleashed with his device, and the agony he has caused you personally, Your Majesty, but surely an enlightened being such as yourself is above the need for revenge?”
A wisp of a smile played at the comers of Roma’s mouth. “You have never met my father, Charles Xavier.”
“Mitras wept!” Satumyne exclaimed angrily. “M’lady, we shouldn’t be standing here discussing the fate of this tin-plated egomaniac! He should be executed immediately, his atoms scattered across the vortex, and the matter brought to a swift end!”
"Someone feels the need for revenge . . .” Ororo commented. “Yes,” Betsy replied. “But can anyone really blame her? I’d be enraged too, if somebody attacked me in my own bedroom, drugged me, and stuffed me in a freezer.”
“Speakin’ of human popsicles,” Rogue said, “did they put Sat-yr-nin back on ice?”
Warren nodded. “Yeah. And Stanton, too. Roma’s leaving it to Satumyne to come up with a suitable punishment for him.”
“I could almost feel sorry for the poor man,” Nightcrawler said. He paused, then shook his head. “Well, no—not really.”
Betsy turned her attention back to the proceedings.
“Satumyne does have a point, Charles Xavier,” Roma conceded. “While he lives, Von Doom will remain a constant threat to the omniverse. His kind never learn from their mistakes; they only create new ones.”
“You dare speak of Doom that way?” the tyrant shouted. “Alien witch! I should have destroyed you from the outset—”
“Silence!" Roma ordered, her voice rumbling like thunder across the chamber. Much to everyone’s surprise, von Doom actually did as he was told, and ceased his protestations. A wise move, Betsy thought. The Guardian turned back to the professor, and gestured toward the dictator. “You see that of which I speak, Charles Xavier.”
“Then grant me a boon, Your Majesty, for all my students and I have accomplished this day. If von Doom’s knowledge of the Cube, and the citadel, put the omniverse at risk, then simply remove that knowledge from his mind. Render him incapable of creating another such device.”
“The best way of doing that would just be to kill him . . .” Satumyne mumbled.
“It could be done . ..” Roma considered. “But he will only return to creating havoc on your world if he is sent back.”
Xavier nodded. “A necessary evil, Your Majesty, if it means sparing his life. Von Doom may indeed continue his insufferable attempts at world domination, but there have been and always will be noble men and women to stand in opposition to him. To counter his evil acts with those of great good. To balance the darkness with the light.”
Roma sat back on her throne, deep in thought.
“Very well, Charles Xavier, it shall be done as you have requested. Knowledge of the Cosmic Cube and the Starlight Citadel will be erased from the prisoner’s mind, and he will be returned to your Earth. What becomes of him beyond that point will be entirely up to you—and your X-Men.”
“No!” von Doom roared. “You cannot do this! You will not do this!”
“Remove the prisoner!” Satumyne ordered. She didn’t bother to hide the icy smile that lit her as von Doom was led away.
“Mark this day well, Guardian!” the tyrant shouted. “The day you made an eternal enemy of Victor von Doom! Let your minions do their worst—Doom will yet prevail! And then he will return—and destroy you all!”
His vows for revenge were still ringing in the air when he and his handlers exited the throne room and turned a comer.
“Nice li’l speech he had there on the way out,” Rogue said with a smile.
“I’m glad t’see he’s takin’ de verdict so well,” Gambit commented.
Roma turned to the next cause for concern. “Erik Magnus Lensherr.”
Magneto stepped forward, carrying his helmet in his hand. He walked ahead of his guards, and bowed sharply when he stopped before the Guardian. Then he held his head up—proudly, almost defiantly, Betsy thought. Ready to face his punishment.
“You, also, have caused serious injury to the fabric of space/time through your selfish actions.” Roma paused. “However, Professor Xavier has already told me of your intention to surrender the Cube, and how you were prevented from doing so through the intervention of the Red Skull.”
Standing near Betsy, Wolverine grunted. “There he goes again, with that bleedin’ heart routine. First Doom gets off ’cause o’ him, now Magnus?” He snarled. “We’re gonna have t’have a little talk, me an’ him, when we get back home.”
“What’s wrong, Logan?” Cyclops asked. “Disappointed you didn’t get another chance to lock horns with Magneto?”
“This ain’t the time or place fer grudge matches, Summers,” Wolverine replied. His eyes narrowed. “But it’s like I told that dirtbag: I know him. It ain’t gonna take ’im long t’start makin’ trouble fer us again—you can bet on it. An’ when that happens, I’ll be cornin’ fer him .
. .”
Across the aisle, Lensherr raised an eyebrow, and looked with surprise at his one-time friend. “Charles?”
“Your reasons for possessing the Cube were noble ones, Erik— although dangerously misguided in their execution,” Xavier said. ‘“No one is fit to be trusted with power. Any man who has lived at all knows the follies and wickedness he’s capable of. If he does not know it, he is not fit to govern others. And if he does know it, he knows also that neither he nor any man ought to be allowed to decide a single human fate.’ ” He smiled when he realized Magnus couldn’t place the source of the quote. “Sir Charles Percy Snow.”
Lensherr chuckled. “ ‘Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?’ ”
“Robert Browning,” Betsy whispered to Warren.
“I knew that,” he said. She glanced at him, and raised an eyebrow. “Classical education, remember?”
Xavier sighed and shook his head. “Erik, we really should talk about this...”
“Another time, Charles,” Lensherr said. “We will always have time to sit and discuss our dreams. And what to do about them.” He looked back to Roma, and bowed courteously. “Your Majesty.” And then, turning on his heel, he strode from the room, followed closely by his guards.
“And what of the Red Skull, m’lady?” Satumyne asked.
“For now, I am content to leave him where he is,” Roma said.
Betsy was surprised. “In the vortex? But isn’t that. .. well, dangerous?”
“Have no fear, Elisabeth. Contact with the Cube, and others like it, has charged his body with just enough cosmic energy that no harm will come to him. He will simply drift wherever the temporal currents take him.”
“Actually,” Betsy said, “I was concerned more for the vortex ...”
“Excuse me ...”
The voice was deep and sonorous, reaching all parts of the throne room so that everyone heard it. The assemblage turned to gaze at the main doorway, the portal still swaying on broken hinges, from when von Doom had forced his way in. Standing there was a man well over six feet tall, with an enormous bush of brown curls that looked more like a party wig than natural hair. He was dressed in a baggy gray suit and matching overcoat, and a wide-brimmed brown hat rested at a rakish angle on the back of his head.
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