The Peak, High Earth Orbit
The sight of Earth from orbit had never failed to amaze the early astronauts, many of whom found their ways of thinking changed forever by the sight of their world below them. There was hardly a person who went out into space who did not remember when they first had a glimpse of their homeworld below them, blue and green, wrapped in wisps of clouds, startlingly small. From space, the Earth was described as beautiful, alive, fragile.
Fragile is damn right. And nobody down there realizes just how fragile their lives are.
SHIELD was well-known by the global community, first and foremost for creating the Avengers Initiative that had resulted in the launch of the world's best-known superhero team. It was far less well-known that SHIELD had a counterpart that was responsible for interstellar affairs- SWORD, the Sentient World Observation and Response Department. Someone tried really hard to make that work.
"Director, we are getting dissturbing reportss from our agentss in Sshi'ar sspace." Sydren walked over to Director Brand, passing her the information.
"Give me the overview." Abigail Brand ordered crisply, taking a sip of her coffee. Wretched as it was, it was still hot and strong. She had a feeling she'd need more of them by the time the day was over.
"The Sshi'ar believe that the avatar of their Phoenix Goddess iss on Earth." Sydren replied. "They are ssending a fleet to Earth to invesstigate. Including the Imperial flagsship itsself."
"Jesus Christ." Brand swore, taking in a breath. "How long do we have?"
"Two weekss, approximately. No more than ssixteen dayss." Brand could swear that Sydren was looking slightly pale. "We need to find thiss female and give her to them."
"I don't want to give anything to those sanctimonious jackasses." Brand sighed harshly. "But you're right. We have no choice. I'll contact SHIELD and get them to transfer their files. We're looking for females with psionic powers. Probably young. We'll check our files, but I have a feeling we're looking at an Earth woman. The sooner we find her, the better. Hopefully whoever it is likes being a living goddess to an interstellar hegemon."
"It could be worsse, I ssupposse." Sydren replied dryly. "What do we do if the Sshi'ar decide to conquer uss anyway?"
"Pray that there is a God out there, because nobody weaker than her would stand a chance against them." Brand replied. "And put some more goddamn coffee on. It's going to be a very, very long night."
X-Mansion Grounds:
When Kate had finally gone to bed, probably never to return- Logan had found himself not particularly able to sleep, so he'd gone out into the grounds. He didn't hunt, exactly, but he liked to follow the animals around, see what they were up to. He had to admit that Charley kept pretty impressive grounds, a lot of it being near-wild land. There were herds of deer, foxes, muskrats and even, occasionally, a black bear or two. It wasn't the wild forests he was used to back home, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing.
It was then that he sniffed something, something, or rather, someone he had hoped he'd never, ever smell again. Sabretooth. His claws instinctively and immediately popped as well over a century of encounters with the man came to mind, the rivers of blood that stood between them, and a the same time, according to Creed, connected them as well. Logan growled and tore off in Creed's direction, using the brush and trees for as much cover as he could. Creed would know he was coming, but not necessarily exactly from which direction.
He thought about calling the other X-Men, but this was his fight. Victor had no business with any of them. If for some reason, he did, then Logan would call them. But he wanted the man's blood himself. They wouldn't understand, couldn't understand. And I don't want them to. The last thing he wanted was for the Boy Scout or far worse, Kitty- halfpint, to see him fight Creed. They deserved better than that. Creed was Logan's own devil.
"I can smell you, boy. Come on out." Victor crowed, laughing as if he'd already won the battle to follow. "Nice house you live in now. Real nice. Bet there's lots of nice, tasty people in there. Maybe after I deal with you, I'll pay them a visit. Drag out one of those mutant girls. Someone nice and tender." His laughter sounded positively diabolical, though Logan knew, from ghastly and painful experience, that the threats weren't entirely empty.
Logan rushed out as fast as he could, claws at the ready to gut the man where he stood, but Victor simply laughed, grabbing him and throwing him aside, into a nearby oak tree. "The good life's softened you, boy."
Logan peeled himself away from the tree and growled, the damage done from the impact already healing up. "Wondering the same about you. Nice suit, asshole."
Victor chuckled faintly. "Boss likes his men to look good. Unlike you, I actually clean up nicely." He uprooted a younger tree and swung it out at Logan, who managed to cut it in two with his claws before going back on the offensive, slashing out at Victor, scoring a hit along one of his arms.
"You got first blood, boy. Not bad for a little runt like you." Victor grabbed both of his arms with lightning speed and slammed him into another tree, shattering it with the force of the impact, splinters of wood digging deep into Logan's back. Victor's foot then pressed him down into the stump, grinding the splinters in deeper. Logan growled, gathering his own feet underneath Victor's stomach and kicking him hard, just hard enough to get him to let go.
Victor growled and slashed at Logan, who managed to block it with his arm, though the claws cut deep, nearly down to the bone. My claws might be better, but his are damn sharp. Logan thrust with his claws towards Victor's belly but a strong hand stopped him and soon Logan felt himself flying through the air, hurtling directly into a barbed wire fence, the blades of it sticking into his flesh. Reaching out with his claws, he cut free just as Victor was about to pounce on him. Logan managed to roll away as Victor landed heavily on the ground next to him.
Logan immediately jumped on Victor himself, plunging one set of his claws deep into Victor's shoulder, making the larger man roar in pain and the second ready to pierce into his heart, but Victor grabbed him quickly and pulled him off, even though that would've widened the wound considerably. Logan felt strong hands wrapping around his head, pushing him down into the wire, the barbs cutting into his throat now, his blood dribbling liberally onto the ground as the relentless pressure started cutting off his air supply. He slashed backwards, wildly, with his claws, finally scoring a hit on one of Victor's arms, making him draw back with a growl of pain and allowing Logan to shakily get to his feet again.
It wasn't fast enough, Logan was still a little shaky from the lack of breath to effectively counter the claws that sliced across his belly, biting deep. It was all he could do to hold his guts in, blood pouring out onto the ground.
"Like I said. You're getting soft." Victor's claws struck again, this time at his throat, before a foot tipped him over. "You should've called your friends, boy. But no you had to be a big goddamn hero. Just like your friend, Scott."
Scott? What?
Victor continued to gloat, but Logan didn't hear anything else, as his vision blurred and faded into black.
Foundlings Orphanage, Nebraska:
Scott opened his eyes, not to the familiar shades of red that he'd seen his whole life, but to a brilliant range of colours that hurt his eyes, assaulted them with unfamiliar shades of green, blue and other colours. My powers. They've shut off my powers. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again cautiously. He was bolted into what looked like a hospital bed. He flexed his muscles, tried to squeeze through them, break them.
Jean.
The thought hit him like a thunderbolt and he redoubled his efforts, straining, trying to kick his legs, screaming in rage and desperation, in pain and determination, until he was too exhausted to continue and he slumped back, bathed in sweat. He willed himself to breathe slowly in measured inhalations, rather than gasp as he wanted to. He stared straight ahead, looking to see if there was a door or a window.
"If you're out there, whoever you are, you will regret this. My friends will find me, they will hunt you down and you will pay for what you've done."
"Threats, already, Scott? I'm disappointed." A smooth, refined British voice spoke as the door opened and a tall, pale man walked in, dressed in a lab coat that was somehow less pale than he was. All in all, he looked uncannily like a vampire, black hair contrasting with the colourless skin. A neatly trimmed goatee and faintly glowing, red eyes completed the ensemble. As Scott watched, however, the features faded into the familiar form of Dr. Milbury. "Is that any way to greet your old friend?"
"... no. You're lying." Scott strained again at his restraints.
"Oh, I'm a veritable master of deception, but this time? I'm being quite honest." Essex replied, though this time he spoke in the amiable Midwestern accent of Dr. Milbury. "I kept you here, Scott, I found you, took you in when no one else would. Because I saw your potential. And look at what you've become." Essex walked up to him, tilting Scott's face so he was forced to look him in the eye. "So disappointing, really. But your genes? Ah, those are as useful as I remember them. I had hoped, perhaps, you and Jean would breed of your own volition, but as it happened, I had to accelerate events.
Speaking of which, I have genetic material to extract from you." A needle slid into Scott's arm and he could feel it bore right into his bones. "You'll be happy to know that I have every intention of letting you go, once I have what I need. It amuses me to see what you'll do next. No doubt you'll attempt to rescue your precious Jean Grey. I assure you, she is dead, her mind completely erased. But she will live on, I assure you, at least in a certain sense."
Essex's features melted from that of Dr. Milbury into what Scott could only assume was his natural form. Essex smiled coldly. "Congratulations, Mr. Summers. You're about to become a father."
Hellfire Club Headquarters, New York City:
"As many of you know, Shaw Industries was attacked by Purifiers, only a few days ago." Sebastian looked down at the members of his Inner Circle, in turn. Essex was not present, but the others all were, including Pierce, whom he was quite certain was a traitor to the cause. As for Emma and Warren, he knew they were plotting, but that their designs wouldn't come to fruition immediately. He could afford to string them along, for now. "The Hellfire Club's vital interests cannot be threatened by these lunatics. The order that we rely on to expand our influence is threatened by their actions. We cannot allow them to continue. We all have resources we can use to make their supply and funding chains more precarious. We also have means of attacking them more directly."
Donald remained silent, though Sebastian could smell the fear rising off of him. Pierce was nothing but a rank bully in the end, all bluster and sadism when dealing with the weak, but with no guts to stand up to anyone with strength. The others seemed to be listening intently. This, at least, was an issue that he expected Emma would agree with him on.
"We are at a critical point in our mission. We are on the verge of establishing a durable order in which we can operate unfettered. It is the right and I believe, the sacred duty of the Hellfire Club to expand its power and direct the business of the world as we see fit. It is the obligation of the strong to rule the weak. We all know what happens when rulers are as weak as their subjects. Chaos. Anarchy. All very, very bad for business. What I, as your Black King and Lord Paramount, need from you is your cooperation. Yes, we have ranks, but we're all aristocrats here. We share common interests. Anyone who does not, has no place here among the Inner Circle." His eyes settled for a moment on Pierce's.
"Let me put it into plain terms. Purity International has declared war on the Hellfire Club, attempting to assassinate me personally and disrupt our operations generally. They cannot be permitted to exist. Let us erase them from the Earth, together. Only then can we truly get back to business as usual."
X-Mansion:
"It's the eye of the tiiiger, it's the thriiill of the fight, risin' up to the chaaallenge of all riiivals …" Kitty sang as she went down the stairs in search of coffee, not really knowing that she was broadcasting Survivor's famous hit to anyone who happened to be awake at that hour. Which was usually not many people. And fewer would be down in the kitchen at this time. Usually it was only Hank or Scott, and she was pretty sure she knew where Hank was. And good for him.
"Hey Scott! What's cr- oh. No Scott." Kitty stopped for a moment. "Huh." She looked over at the coffee machine. No pots made, either. He hasn't been down here. That's really weird. Scott's always down here at this time. He's usually eating a bowl of plain Wheaties and drinking his horrible sludge coffee, reading the New York Times.
Kitty. Relax. Maybe he just slept in. We did kind of save the world yesterday. The only reason you're up is because you're so high on afterglow that you couldn't sleep anyway. Kitty reached down into the pocket of her pajama pants and pulled out her phone, and decided she was going to text him. I'm giving him a half hour. If he doesn't reply, I'm checking his room. It's weird for Scott not to be up right now.
A loud thud brought her back to reality as she ran over to see what it was. When she turned the corner to the door, she gasped.
"Logan!" It was clear that the wounds he'd suffered were healing but they were ghastly. Thick mats of congealed blood and … other things covered his belly and a wound on his throat had still only half-healed along with myriad other deep scratches and the remnants of smaller cuts. "Hank!" Kitty cried out as loud as she could. She took Logan carefully and phased them down into the infirmary.
"... someone's grabbed Scott … attacked me … Creed …" Logan managed to force out of a still-badly damaged throat. "We gotta find the Boy Scout …"
"We will." Kitty reached over to the alarm button on the wall of the infirmary and pressed it. Hopefully the alarm would wake the other X-Men and get them ready. "Can you help me to get you in one of these beds? I'm sorry, but you're kinda … heavy to lift by yourself."
"Wassa matter, halfpint? Not workin' out enough?" Logan teased softly as he did his best to help her get him up in a bed. "I'll be good in a few hours. Took a helluva beating, though."
"I'm not the one who wears two hundred pounds of adamantium on his hairy butt." Kitty countered, looking down at him once she'd helped him onto the bed. "You sure you're going to be okay? Don't lie to me. I hate being lied to."
"I've suffered worse, trust me." Logan winced. Sometimes the healing hurt as bad as the original injury did.
Kitty then gave Logan a knowing look. "Why didn't you call for help?"
Logan took a painful, ragged breath. "Was my fight, not anyone else's."
"If you weren't … half-gutted and, Logan." Her lip quivered a little, whether it was more in sadness or anger, it was difficult to tell. "You could have died. You can't just go off and do this stuff by yourself."
Logan forced himself to sit up so he could look at her even in the eye. "There are some devils a man's gotta face himself, halfpint. You don't understand, and believe me, you don't want to understand. You should go with the other X-Men. Find the boy scout, bring him back."
"... this conversation isn't over, Logan." Kitty glared at him. "I'm not losing you over some stupid grudge."
"Couldn't get rid of me if you tried, halfpint." Logan managed a small smile before slumping back down, feeling his guts and various other body parts healing.
X-Men War Room:
"The last communications that Scott had with the outside world can be traced here, to this footbridge, not far from the school grounds. It is a reasonable deduction that his kidnapping happened there, or somewhere nearby." Hank looked around at the room. "The time that the message was received was 2:14 am. I venture that the kidnapping occurred between 2:30 and 3 am. Scott almost always wears his communicator, but it appears to have been deactivated or otherwise removed."
Ororo nodded. "We start by investigating the site. Professor, if you would use Cerebro to search Scott's mutant signature. Hank, see if you can figure out what was said in the conversation Scott had. Something must have seemed urgent, and personal, to get him out of bed and off the grounds at that time of night."
"I know I'm knew to all this, but I know a thing or two about kidnappings from back home. Stormy, you should take me out there. I'll find something." Remy spoke up. "I figure, I go with Logan in a few when he heals up. I look around, he smells around, we find something. Jus' my suggestion."
Ororo nodded. "Very well. The rest of us need to be at readiness to move as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the further away or the greater danger Scott might be in."
"You don't think it could have anything to do with Magneto?" Bobby ventured. "I mean, he's definitely got a motivation for lashing out at us after everything."
"I do not think so." Xavier answered. "This isn't Magneto's style. His vengeance would more likely be some sort of grand gesture. He'd aim to attack the whole team at once, or create a situation in which we would be lured to our defeat. I would not rule out the possibility that one of his followers did this, however."
"There may be some Brotherhood members who escaped in the chaos in Washington, or other sympathizers drawn by the chaos." Hank ventured. "Or perhaps one of the myriad anti-mutant factions who have formed in the midst of recent events."
"It wasn't any of `em." Logan said as he staggered into the room, looking half-dead, blood still seeping through his dressings. "There was a man named Victor Creed. Talked about a Boss, I dunno who that is, but the sort of man who can order Creed around- we gotta find the boy scout, and fast."
Footbridge, near the X-Mansion Grounds:
"Hm, Scotty have himself a real nice car." Remy looked around it. "Didn't run into any thieves, I can tell you. No one looking for money leave something like this behind."
"Not everyone's you, Cajun." Logan growled in reply, sniffing around. More damn familiar scents. And something I can't quite put my nose on. Wait. I'd know that smell anywhere. Jean. "And we've got a bigger problem. Jean was here too."
"... wait, are you sure? Jean?" Bobby's eyes opened wide. "But she was gone, had left a note and everything. I was sure she'd moved back in with her parents."
"My nose doesn't lie, Drake. Jean was here. Her, and Creed, two other scumbags I know, and someone else. Boy Scout got led into a trap. Jean might have been the bait. What else is gonna get someone like Scott to go out here without contacting anyone else in the middle of the night?" Logan growled. He knew that, because he probably would've done the same. I accepted that she'd chosen Scott a long time ago. Tried not to think about it too much when it became open again. Past just won't stay buried. Damn it all. Just when I was movin' on.
"So … who the hell is behind this? I mean that dude who attacked you, I got the impression he as a big strong dude with claws. What about the other … scumbags?" Bobby asked, clearly in thought.
"One's a woman- technically. Kind of like that girl in the Brotherhood with the shockwaves, but meaner. Way meaner. The other guy, weapons expert. Has a certain talent for changing them." Logan continued to sniff around. "Scott was bundled into a vehicle. You can see tracks here."
"Could those people kidnap Jean? I mean, we saw what she can do if she's pissed enough. She beat the super psychic guy who works with Magneto. Easily." Bobby emphasized. "I mean, not like it's gonna stop us, but we're clearly dealing with someone who can neutralize Jean."
"Or turn her over to the other side." Remy thought out loud, though as soon as he finished the words, Logan's hands were on his throat.
"You so much as suggest one bad thing about Jeannie again, Cajun, and you're gonna get real up close and personal with these." Logan popped his claws, waving them not far from his face.
Remy's eyes opened wide for a moment and then narrowed, looking at Logan. "Maybe you should stop thinking with petite Logan? How many powerful psychics are there out there? Maybe someone's controlling her mind. Maybe someone find something they use against her. You don't know!"
"Logan." Bobby said, in a quiet but firm tone. "Look, Remy's a douchey ballsack, but he's … he's got a point. If Jean were in her right mind, she would've helped Scott and, probably, they would've escaped."
"Yeah." Logan sighed, suddenly looking defeated. His claws retracted into his wrists and he let Remy go.
X-Mansion, Subbasements:
Hank McCoy had been hunched over the equipment for a few hours now, with Kitty working close at hand, trying to get back an auditory record of the call. So far, he'd been having little success on his end. Hank looked over at Kitty, who was similarly hard at work, listening intently at the tiny snatches of audio that had been recovered, trying to figure something out. Kitty looked back at him and shook her head.
"This is going to take forever to reconstruct." Kitty sighed. "Maybe we should try just … reconstructing a segment of it. Hopefully catch at least the voice of the other person and match it to a database."
Hank nodded. "Perhaps not the last twenty seconds or so, but the twenty seconds before it. It's worth a try. We may be able to get something useful from it."
They then started working together on patching together the data, until hopefully, they could get a complete record of what was said. After another thirty minutes or so of work, they were able to play it back in its entirety. Their eyes opened wide.
"Oh my stars and garters." Hank murmured quietly. "That's Jean."
"She … doesn't sound under duress or anything, either." Kitty listened again, raising her eyebrow. "Actually, it sounds like … she wanted to get back together with him?"
"That is either Jean Grey or a shapeshifter who is familiar with her voice." Hank replied quietly. "And that … does seem like it. But that doesn't match the suggested violence. Or Logan's encounter. This is very, very disturbing."
Penthouse, New York City:
Daddy said that soon, I would be introduced to the Hellfire Club. That I would become one of their Queens and rule over half the world.
Madelyne Pryor looked forward to the day when that would happen, when she could come out into the light of the public, as a figure to be feared, loved, worshipped, rather than hidden away as she had been much her life. Soon, all of her training and preparation would come into use. She knew her mission, plain enough. She was to charm the Black King, Sebastian Shaw- not a difficult task, she suspected, due to the man's notorious weakness for beautiful women, and undermine the position of the current Black Queen, a woman whom her father seemed to truly despise.
Such a promising future would seem to lend itself to a sweet sleep with dreams of glory and power, of her ascendance into the world aristocracy of the Hellfire Club. But she found whenever she slept, she had strange dreams of rage and fire, of something trapped deep inside her longing to escape. Of a great and burning bird that yearned to find its home again, somewhere far beyond the stars.
Remember who you are.
Remember what you are.
Remember.
I know who I damn well am! I am Madelyne Pryor, the daughter of Nathaniel Essex, soon to be Black Queen of the Hellfire Club.
That is not your true name.
You were born as someone else.
You will rise as something else altogether.
Remember.
Madelyne positively roared with anger, grabbing her wine glass and hurling it against the wall. "I know who I am, damn you! Get out of my head!" She clutched the counter, trying to steady herself as the room began to shake around her. "I know who I am." She began repeating to herself as a mantra. At first the voice sounded foreign, softer, warmer, but as she repeated it, it took on the cool edge of her own voice. I know who I am.
Neutral Space, heading towards Earth:
Remember. Lilandra thought, trying to project the thought into the Avatar's mind. I can only pray that she does. She is our only hope. The thought that someone had perverted the Avatar, the living vessel of her Goddess, made her blood burn. When I am Majestrix, whoever did this will pay. They would suffer, as only an enemy and heresiarch should. But first, Lilandra would have to reach Earth and do whatever she could to help the Avatar. Goddess give me strength. I will need all of it.
Removing the psi-projector which allowed her mind to traverse the spaceways, Lilandra whispered a simple prayer before getting up and walking down the length of the Starjammer to the bridge, where Captain Summers and the main officers of his crew were. Those few who were brave enough to follow me when D'Ken emerged triumphant at the Gathering of the Blood. She would never forget their courage, and all of them would be richly rewarded when she ruled. Lilandra took her seat, looking out at the expanse of space.
"How are we progressing, Captain?" Lilandra asked. She wished she were trained in stellar cartography, so she could recognize their location from the pattern of the stars, but that was an arcane art that required psychic talents different from hers and many years of training. As one of the Royal Blood, she had other responsibilities.
"Good enough." Captain Christopher Summers answered. "We should beat the Imperial fleet by a few days. It always takes time for them to get ready, and they'll be leaving from the Throneworld. With luck, we can find her and do … whatever we need to do before D'Ken arrives. And hope she does not choose him."
Lilandra sighed softly. She knew that the Captain was not truly one of the faithful, though like all fo the crew of the ship, he'd said the oath which promised his soul to the Goddess. I can only hope he finds the light. I will not kill or enslave those who do not believe. It accomplishes nothing. The Light will shine, regardless.
"Be careful of how thou speakest of the Goddess and her avatar, Captain." Commander Raza warned, though Lilandra knew he had resigned himself to the need to be commanded, temporarily, by an unbeliever. "She is held in reverence by trillions."
"I have all the respect in the world for the Shi'ar faith." Captain Summers answered. "But we have far more important things to do than argue theology. Goddess, super powerful cosmic being, whatever. We have to find her and help her out, before D'Ken and the Imperial Fleet finds her and blows up my homeworld in the process." His face tightened and his hands balled into fists as he thought about D'Ken, and what he'd done to his wife. "And maybe, just maybe along the way, that bastard will get what's coming to him. With … respect, Majestrix Lilandra."
"There are many things we disagree about, Captain, but the desire for my brother to get what he deserves is not one of them. He is mad, cruel and dangerous. He disgraces our faith, he insults our ancestors, he soils the name of the Shi'ar. She will understand. The Goddess will give us the justice we seek." Lilandra declared.
"That will be a sweet day, Majestrix, but we've got to survive, first." Captain Summers looked over at Hepzibah. "Madmoiselle, if you would, take us into hyperdrive. We've got a race to win."
Lilandra took a breath. "I will attempt to contact someone on the planetary surface and explain our intentions to them. Someone, perhaps, who is close to the Goddess's Avatar."
"As good of a plan as any, really, Majestrix." Captain Summers shrugged. "Can you use the projector while we're in hyperdrive?"
"It is risky, but possible. I may be moving, but I'm searching a relatively fixed point." Lilandra replied.
"I can't tell you otherwise, Majestrix." Captain Summers sighed, though he clearly didn't like the idea much. "Please be careful. You're our only hope for sanity in this galaxy."
Lilandra got up neatly and looked at him for a moment. "And that is where you are wrong. I am not the only hope for the future. The Goddess is." And with that, she turned and went towards the psi-projector again, hoping to find someone who could help her.
Cerebro, X-Mansion:
Charles Xavier was having no luck in finding either Jean Grey or Scott Summers, despite an exhaustive search on Cerebro for either of them. His brow dripping with sweat, he was just about ready to remove the apparatus when he suddenly heard a psychic voice coming to him through Cerebro.
Help. I need your help.
Charles narrowed his eyes and concentrated, trying to find the source of the transmission with Cerebro, but it was too far away. It didn't sound like either Jean or Scott, but perhaps whomever this is was connected somehow, or was simply another person who needed help.
Who is this?
I am the Majestrix Lilandra Neramani of the Shi'ar Imperium. I need to find a young woman of your world. Her name is Jean Grey.
How do you know Jean?
I do not know who she is, in truth. I only know what she is, what she is to my people.
What is that?
The Avatar of the Phoenix Goddess, the Light of the Universe. We must find her. She needs our help. Someone has taken her and twisted her thoughts. I fear for what may happen as a consequence of it.
Tell me everything that you know. You must understand, that I have little stake in your Goddess, but much and more in Jean Grey herself.
The first thing you must know is that the fate of your world depends on us finding her.
Shi'ar Throneworld:
"Everything is in readiness, Majesty." Gladiator knelt respectfully before his Emperor, as did the other members of his Imperial Guard, composed of the most powerful and respected warriors of the Shi'ar Imperium, gathered together, possessed of absolute loyalty to whomever held the Phoenix Throne. Gladiator himself had power as great as virtually any being in the cosmos, but was sworn only to ever use his might in the service of the Shi'ar Imperium and its ruler.
D'Ken nodded sternly. "Very good. We shall depart forthwith then. No doubt my rebellious sister and her band of pirates is headed towards this planet as well. We must move swiftly. If we do, we may be able to secure the Goddess and eliminate the most serious opposition to my rule, all at once. What say you about being the executioner of my treacherous sister, Gladiator?" D'Ken sneered down at him.
Gladiator swallowed, glad it was respectful to keep his eyes averted from his Majesty. It was well-known he had been fond of Lilandra since she was a young girl. He had hoped she would accept D'Ken's rule and take some position in his court. Where she could be safe, where he could guard her rather than hunt her. But he had sworn a holy oath to uphold the laws of the Imperium and the will of its ruler. "I would do my duty, Majesty. Without hesitation."
"Of course you would. You are, as ever, a faithful creature." D'Ken chuckled faintly. "Hopefully Araki has seen to it that my favorites among the harem have been taken on the flagship as well. It is not meet that a Majesty's bed should be empty, even on a voyage of conquest such as this is."
"I have not spoken to him, Majesty. No doubt he has faithfully executed your command, just as I would." Gladiator replied.
"No doubt." D'Ken sneered. "I do hope the Goddess wills it that this Terra should burn. It's been too long since I have seen a Starcracker in operation."
Gladiator had to suppress a shudder at that. He too, had seen the dreaded Starcracker in operation, a weapon which could make any star go into a supernova, destroying entire systems in a single blast. It was a power that he regarded as truly hideous, and yet, terror of it had kept the other powers of the galaxy from banding together to resist the spread of Shi'ar enlightenment throughout the galaxy. It would be a better galaxy with no need to use such weapons, but we are not fortunate enough to live there. It is better that we have that power than that others do.
"What do you think the Goddess would desire, Gladiator?" D'Ken asked, his eyebrow raised.
"I do not presume to know the will of my rulers or my Goddess, Majesty. I live to execute it." Gladiator replied piously.
"Of course not." D'Ken sneered, clearly unhappy with the response. But even he hesitated to sanction the commander of his Imperial Guard. "We will begin our voyage to Terra tonight. If the locals are wise, they will swiftly hand over the Goddess to me."