MARVEL SUPER HEROES SECRET WARS

by Alex Irvine

  As Rogue approached, a metal spheroid rose from Galactus’ machine and flew toward her. Its surface was dimpled with circular apertures that projected red cones of force similar to Cyclops’ gaze. The first of these shots stopped Rogue in mid-flight. She rebounded and attempted to circumvent the spheroid, but it knocked her out of the air with another force beam and continued on its course toward the X-Men. Yet another beam lanced up to strike Storm and send her into a momentary free fall before she gathered her equilibrium.

  “Erik!” Xavier called. Yes, Magneto thought. It is close enough now.

  He reached out and seized the spheroid, holding it where it was with the latent energy of its own magnetism. He could not prevent its projector lenses from operating, however. Force beams hammered down among the X-Men, one knocking Xavier to the ground as Wolverine and Nightcrawler barely dodged another. It fired at Magneto as well, and he was narrowly able to redirect the beam around him only by intensifying the electromagnetic waves emanating from the ground at his feet.

  Nightcrawler vanished and reappeared clinging to the spheroid and hammering uselessly at its surface, trying to keep his body positioned so its projectors could not knock him off. “Get offa there, elf!” Wolverine shouted. “You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

  Nightcrawler rejoined them with his familiar BAMF and immediately dodged another force beam.

  There is no time! Xavier called to all of them. He was struggling to his feet again. We cannot waste our energies on this device. We must engage Galactus directly!

  “Scott Summers,” Magneto said. “Perhaps we might begin a counteroffensive?”

  Cyclops’ optic blast scored a direct hit. Crimson energy washed around the spheroid but did not appear to damage it. Magneto seized it again and held it, attempting to crush it into itself. But even his powers had their limits. Galactus had created a metallic object that Magneto could not destroy.

  Humility was an unfamiliar feeling to Magneto. He disliked it.

  “Wolverine, prepare,” he said. “I will draw it down, and your claws must do the rest.”

  “Quit talkin’ and start doin’,” Wolverine said.

  The spheroid resisted him, but Magneto steadily pulled it closer. Soon it would be within range of Wolverine’s claws.

  The spheroid hummed and clicked. Its force projectors spun and swiveled into a new configuration. Magneto felt something change in the magnetic field linking him to the spheroid. It was reconstituting its very substance, changing from a drone to a—

  Fire and light exploded around them.

  JAMES RHODES

  Rhodey had played Iron Man a couple of times before. A few days here, a week or two there. Stark’s understudy, that’s what he was as far as S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers were concerned. He wasn’t a genius, he didn’t have the mutant gene, he couldn’t do magic or tap into reservoirs of energy from another dimension. He was just a guy. Sometimes he was the guy in the Iron Man suit. Like now. Only now, on Battleworld, it was different.

  Nobody had told Rhodey they were disappointed to find out it wasn’t Tony in the armor, but he could tell. They saw him as Tony’s pal—the military straight arrow who once in a while subbed for his genius-billionaire-playboy-philantropist friend, and then knew when to step back out of the spotlight and let the real heroes take the glory.

  That was before, though. That was on Earth. Here, on Battleworld, they were doing just fine without Tony Stark.

  Rhodey wanted them all to remember that when they got home. Being Iron Man wasn’t about being able to build the suit. It was about being the hero once the suit was on. Tony Stark didn’t have a monopoly on that.

  Then the ground shook, and Rhodey heard an explosion. The big show was coming. His time was coming, too.

  James Rhodes was Iron Man.

  FORTY-THREE

  REED RICHARDS was the first to spot the explosion. Ten miles away, a mushroom cloud rose and ballooned over Galactus’ machine and the devastated mountaintop, parting the rainclouds recently drawn together by Storm’s powers.

  “That’s some kaboom,” Ben Grimm said. Reed turned to Ben and noted he was again the Thing. Ben had resumed his stony orange form during the trip from the (former) Doombase to the village below Galactus’ mountain. It was unclear to Reed how much control Ben had over the process, if any. He suspected that Ben’s transformations were somehow related to the nature of Battleworld. Xavier could walk, Hawkeye had—

  “Guys!” Spider-Man shouted. “Look!”

  Reed turned around, expecting to see Spider-Man pointing to some threat outside the ship, but instead he was zipping tiny threads of webbing all over the place back in the passenger compartment. “I can shoot webs again! Man, this suit!”

  Add that to the list, Reed thought. It appeared Spider-Man’s new suit had incorporated the functionality of his web-shooters. How had the machine known to include that? Clearly by reading Spider-Man’s mind. Yet it had not given him exactly what he asked for.

  Instead it had given him something…better? Different, at least. Battleworld’s idea of what Spider-Man should want to be.

  Reed was curious how many other members of the team were experiencing small differences in their powers. The one person he could safely say had not had his wishes granted was the Hulk, who had spent the entire trip from the base sitting apart from the rest of the group. Reed had spoken to him briefly as they were leaving to assist the X-Men, and he knew the Hulk was having trouble grappling with the erosion of his mental faculties. “I don’t want to be a dumb monster again,” he’d said. “But I don’t have the same kind of rage I used to have, either. I’m not as strong and not as smart. Pretty soon I’ll just be a big green idiot…like you all thought I was all along.”

  “I didn’t,” Reed said. “I always suspected there was more depth to the Hulk.”

  “Maybe there was,” the Hulk said. “But there won’t be for too much longer.”

  Reed had left him alone then. Through the years he’d known both Banner and the Hulk, he’d learned not to press conversations with either of them. They reacted badly under pressure but often came to the correct conclusions of their own accord.

  Thor sat with the Hulk now. Reed couldn’t hear what they were saying. Next to him, Ben was piloting the ship. “I’m so glad to be the Thing again I could kiss the next person I see,” he said. “Let’s get to the clobberin’ part of the agenda.”

  “Not to rain on your parade, Ben, but I always thought you wanted to be a regular man again,” Reed said.

  “You know what I figured out, Stretch?” Ben said. “If Alicia loves me when I’m made out of orange rocks, then the rest of the world can take a long walk off a short pier. I am what I am. Plus, I ain’t no good to the team if I’m just Ben. There’s an upside to being the Thing. I guess I knew that before, but it’s more obvious now.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Reed said. He stowed that away, too, in his file of Battleworld phenomena.

  They dove down into the valley harboring Zsaji’s village and confronted the sobering sight of utter devastation. The explosion had been centered about halfway up the shoulder of the mountain, it appeared. Rubble was strewn throughout the valley, house-sized stones flung hundreds of yards and entire cliff faces collapsed into scree. Above, on the mountaintop, snaking tendrils of biospheric energy converged on Galactus’ machine, reaching from a dozen points on Battleworld’s surface.

  “Suddenly our odds don’t look too good,” Ben commented.

  The ship veered sharply to one side as one of the biospheric tendrils coiled near it. Alarms chirped. “I’m gonna set her down,” Ben said. “This ain’t a good place to be flying.”

  It isn’t a good place to be fighting, either, Reed thought. The X-Men had disappeared, not a single body or shred of clothing left behind. Reed suspected the worst; with a heavy heart, he was reminded that the rest of them had little chance of faring better.

  They gathered just outside the ship, a few hundred yards downslope from the
plateau supporting Galactus and his machine. Red and crackling, Battleworld’s biospheric energy drained from the planet in the direction of the machine. Reed did not know how long it took Galactus to consume a planet. He also did not know whether Battleworld would take longer because of its unique nature.

  The one thing that was apparent to all of them was that they didn’t have much time to work out every detail. Frustrated, Reed searched for a weakness in the Beyonder’s plan. Why had he involved Galactus? The same rules could not possibly apply to him as the two groups of humans. He would not be swayed by the Beyonder’s promises. He was not mortal, vulnerable to ambition or regret or jealousy. Had Galactus’ inclusion been a mistake? Was the Beyonder simply insane, immune to rational considerations of his motives? How could the Beyonder appeal to a cosmic being?

  What could Galactus want?

  He shoved the question into the back of his mind. It was time to fight. If Galactus could be distracted long enough for a conversation, Reed would put the question to him then.

  As a group, they charged up the mountain. Small satellites shot from Galactus’ machine, deflecting the heroes’ attacks and slowing their approach. The weapons seemed to be wholly defensive, as the beams they projected did little actual damage. “These devices could be what caused that last explosion, so treat them carefully!” Reed called out. “Avoid them if you can! Spectrum, decoy them with your speed!”

  She did, moving fast enough to draw their attention but not so fast that they abandoned tracking her in favor of slower targets. Taking advantage of the opening she had created, Rhodey dipped and swerved through the picket line of satellites. He handled the Iron Man armor quite well, Reed thought—and of course Reed himself had improved the flight-control system while he was repairing the suit back at Doom’s base. The others were having more trouble making progress without attacking the satellites directly, but Spectrum’s diversion was proving effective, and Reed was able to stretch around most of the targeted blasts. Slowly they closed the distance to the mountaintop.

  Rhodey was the first to reach striking distance of the machine. He arced around to the side opposite where Galactus stood. Reed saw the flash of repulsor beams and a larger explosion as he damaged part of the machine.

  “Yeah!” Ben yelled. “We got a chance!”

  “We can win this battle! Press while we can!” Captain America shouted, rallying the team forward. The satellites all flew in pursuit of Rhodes, responding either to the damage he had caused or an undetected command from Galactus himself—who as yet had given no visible sign of noticing their presence.

  We can win, Reed thought. Yes.

  And then insight struck. “Wait!” he said. “That’s the answer! Stop! All of you, stop!”

  “Stop? Now? We’re about to break through!” Captain America responded.

  “Yes, I know,” he said impatiently. “But we cannot. This is part of the Beyonder’s game. This is the heart of it. It all centers on Galactus! We have to let him consume Battleworld,” Reed said.

  “This isn’t really the time for comedy,” Spider-Man said. “And I ought to know.”

  “It’s not a joke, Spider-Man,” Reed said. “Think about it. If you are Galactus, what defines your existence?”

  “I think we can all tell the answer to that, Stretcho,” said Ben. “We’re lookin’ at it.”

  “Exactly. Galactus is a slave to his hunger. He is driven to consume planets not because he wishes to, but because he must. Follow that through—what must be Galactus’ fondest desire, then?”

  He saw the realization break over their faces. The satellites held their positions nearby, waiting for the heroes to attempt another attack.

  Spectrum was the first to put their collective understanding into words. “If Galactus wins the game, he’ll ask the Beyonder to take away his hunger.”

  “Yes,” Reed said.

  “Well, you know, we’re probably all going to die if Galactus eats Battleworld,” said Johnny Storm. “Thought I should get that part of it out in the open.”

  “Johnny, that’s why we’re here. We’ve been chosen as a test to see if we will make the right decision. Billions of lives will be saved if Galactus can free himself of his hunger. Perhaps trillions. Is that not worth any sacrifice?”

  But even as he spoke the words, Reed thought of Sue. And Franklin.

  Rhodey’s voice crackled through the Iron Man mask. “And what if the Beyonder doesn’t pay up?”

  “Then Galactus will be so powerful from consuming Battleworld that he will destroy the Beyonder,” Reed said slowly. He did not like advocating this plan. But he would not shrink from it. “One thing we do know about Galactus is that he honors bargains, and that he despises those who do not,” Reed said. “Earth wouldn’t exist if that weren’t true.”

  “So we all came out here to die,” Hawkeye said. “Figures.”

  “I already died once,” said the Wasp. “The rest of you have some catching up to do.”

  Spider-Man groaned. “Like I said, people. Not the time for comedy.”

  “It’s the only way forward,” Reed said. “The only thing that makes sense.”

  Before any of them could respond, a wave of invisible force swept over the team, forcing them back. All of them except Reed. He stood alone. “Richards,” Thor said. “It seems Galactus has taken notice.”

  They all looked. Galactus turned toward them. “I don’t like this,” Spider-Woman said. “Nope. Don’t like it at all.”

  A moment later, Reed was gone.

  FORTY-FOUR

  REED knew at once he was on Galactus’ ship. It was an indescribable marvel, filled with technological wonders he might have spent his life unraveling—yet at the moment he didn’t care. He had one goal: to get home—or if he could not get home, to make sure his family survived.

  Something shifted around him; he now found himself in an immense space, standing on a platform at the far end of which sat Galactus’ throne. Held in a stasis field off to one side, hovering in midair and so large he could not see its end, was the machine Galactus was using to draw out Battleworld’s biospheric energies.

  “Reed Richards,” Galactus said. “Welcome to my home.”

  “I am honored,” Reed said.

  “Perhaps you wish to view your home.”

  “Very much so,” Reed said.

  An image appeared before him: Sue, with young Franklin. Reed was struck by how ordinary the image was. A woman and child, living their lives. It hit him hard, because he rarely thought of what he and Sue had sacrificed to become half of the Fantastic Four.

  But it was worth it, he thought. They had done true good in the world, and they were obligated to use their powers to protect those who had none.

  “Yes,” Galactus said.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re reading my mind, I suppose,” Reed said.

  “I am no judge of what should or should not surprise you. Hear me, for I will be brief. You are a force for life, Reed Richards. I am an instrument of death. We are as we are. The universe requires us both.”

  After a long, silent pause, Reed said, “You were, in fact, brief.”

  “There is no more to say. Return, and choose.”

  *

  Just as seamlessly as he had been drawn away, Reed found himself standing again among his comrades. Only now there were more of them: The X-Men were climbing out of a hole in the side of the mountain. “Reed Richards,” Magneto said. “We were just hearing the tale of your disappearance—and that of Galactus and his machine.”

  “Looks like you have a tale of your own,” Reed said, smiling in relief. “How’d you survive that explosion? We saw it from the other side of the mountains.”

  “A shield of my creation,” Magneto said. “Though it took us some time to recover, and then it was necessary to dig out from under the significant portion of the mountain that collapsed upon us.”

  “So now everyone’s had a mountain fall on them,” Spider-Man said. “Battlewor
ld’s real scrupulous about being even-handed with its misery.”

  Magneto ignored him. “Did you converse with Galactus?”

  “I did,” Reed said.

  “And?”

  “I don’t know. He said I was a champion of life, and that he was an instrument of death. That’s not much of an instruction manual for what comes next.”

  “It makes sense to me,” Captain America said. “We don’t get to be champions of life if we stand around letting everyone on Battleworld die.”

  “What if it means billions of others live?” Reed asked. “Are we so much more important?”

  “I don’t buy it,” Rhodey said. “If Galactus really wanted to win, he’d smoke all of us and then take the fight to the Beyonder. He’s not doing that, so there’s something else going on.”

  “Agreed,” said Spectrum. “He’s got another plan. This is just a snack to get his energy up.”

  “The only other option would be to go after the Beyonder,” the Hulk said.

  “That’s right,” Spectrum said. “That’s what Doom wanted to do. Looks to me like Galactus thinks it’s a good idea, too.”

  “So what do we do, sit around and wait to see which of them gets there first?” Hawkeye asked. “That doesn’t sound like us being champions of life.”

  “Look, for all we know the fight’s happening right now,” Wolverine said. “I mean, Galactus isn’t even on the mountain anymore.”

  “Then we can sit tight until he’s back and hash this out then,” Rogue suggested.

  “Whatever happens,” Captain America said, “I want to say I’m proud to see us all back together. The X-Men—and you too, Magneto—did us a big favor covering while we went to rescue She-Hulk. We can’t let Battleworld divide us again.”

  “And we shall not,” Xavier said. “Before, I thought it necessary to separate our groups so we could maintain the autonomy of each, rather than subjugating one to the other. Now it seems we have each learned lessons about how we might have benefited from remaining united. I was mistaken.”