June - Year 5
	#1

The Heart Hall of the Ancients. Almost as old as the Kree, this is the chamber where all decisions that affect the people are made. The tribes signed the treaties of unity in this room. The Science Tribes instigated the Slaughter of the Ancients in this room. The Science Tribes later kneeled to High Priest Ki-Ree in this room, naming him their emperor.

Encircling this room is a massive, narrow table, wrapping around the inside of the Heart Hall. Designed to hold over a thousand Ancients, this stone table was once filled to overflowing. Now, only twelve Ancients are seated, as it was in the beginning.

Shoulder to shoulder, these Ancients wait for an audience with their emperor.

“He’s late again.”

“No doubt he’ll claim that he had to deal with something important.”

“His definition of important is far too broad.”

“Most likely he met with a harem girl. Most young men deem that important.”

“Not this man. While his priorities may not match ours, they are priorities nonetheless.”

“I tire of your babbling, Ork-Kney. This child was never meant to rule and you know it.”

“Agreed Pla-Cent. He is far too forceful when a gentle hand is required, and too gentle when force is required.”

“It is early yet. We must have patience.”

“Until what? Until he destroys what is left of our people?”

“Don’t forget that he helped save our people.”

“Ki-Ree and the son of Mar-Vell saved our people. He guarded mounds of corpses.”

“Only sensible decision he’s made has been to form the Corps.”

“Foolish to include the followers of Supremor, however.”

“Why he didn’t force Mar-Vell’s son to remain, I’ll never know.”

“And why hasn’t he taken action against the Dire Wraiths, I ask you!”

“Treaties with Earth-“

“Did you hear what he gave them for specks of metal!”

“Insists on holding onto the empire, yet he transports as many as possible here on Hala.”

“Something must be done, and soon.”

Across from them, at the far end of the Hall, massive stone doors swing open, heralding a small guard of Kree soldiers. The Ancients notice that their uniforms are no longer the standard white and green, but rather a newly stylized white and blue, a black, ringed planet signifying Hala on their chests. They are the Watchers of the Ancients, the elite bodyguards of the Emperor and the Council.

Striding behind the Watchers, dressed in the ceremonial garb of the Kree Emperor, comes Mas-Kedd. Unlike human rulers, he does not wear a crown upon his brow, for the Kree do not value wisdom. Instead, Mas-Kedd wears as his sign of station the armor of a warrior. Heavy steel gauntlets over his hands, studded at the knuckles with tiny spikes that were finely worked so as never to go dull. Protecting his chest is a light yet resilient chestplate, ribbed on the inside so as to better withstand blunt attacks. To rule the Kree, it is not wisdom that matters, but rather the strength of your hands and the courage of your heart.

His long purple cape flowing behind him, Mas-Kedd takes his place upon the great glass throne across from the Council. Back straight, arms rested, Mas-Kedd nods at his supposed equals.

“Ancients. You have requested my presence, and so I am here. Address your grievances to me, and I will deal with them to the best of my ability.” An Ancient phrase. One nearly as old as the Council itself, though certainly as old as the title of Emperor.

One by one, the Ancients stand, each prepared to ask a question. As the eldest, Ork-Kney has the privilege of speaking first.

“Emperor, we within the Council have various concerns about your recent actions, the most recent of which has been your actions on the planet Earth. By our records, you have overseen the restoration of the former colony site on their moon, encouraging the growth of it, while at the same time discouraging the restoration of all worlds held within the empire. What we wish to ask is this: why?”

Mas-Kedd does not wait to consider the question. He gives his prepared answer immediately. “As I have often stated, the body can only survive if the heart is strong. It is for this reason that I have limited all but the military to Hala, and even then only a small percentage of the military is off-planet. In the case of Earth, however, I must remind you all of an ancient saying. One that I am sure you are all aware. ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.’”

Pausing a moment, Mas-Kedd continues. “Earth has interfered in our affairs quite extensively in their recent history. They are both a potential ally and a certain threat. Thus, we must keep our eye on them, to take advantage of any alliance, and to prepare for when the nature of their threat to us is revealed.”

Apparently satisfied, Ork-Kney sits down, his turn over. The Ancient seated next to him, the well-respected scientist. Ted-Sion, now speaks.

“Emperor, I have no grievances at the moment. Instead I am pleased to inform you that the breeding labs are operating smoothly. Seventy-eight percent of all artificial inseminations were successful, and a study of the genetic matches proved exceptional. The first of the next Kree generation will be born within the year, with a projected birth rate of 98 percent. Before the year ends the Kree population will have doubled, though of course half the population will not be of age.”

“Ninety percent of 78 percent? It would seem that you have exceeded your own expectations of 90 percent of 65 percent, Ancient. You and your staff are to be commended. The proper adjustments shall be made to education and housing.”

Ted-Sion begins to sit down, but Mas-Kedd holds up his hand. “A question, Ancient. Have you been able to ascertain how many of the brood will mutate, and the nature of the mutation?”

“Like I said, Emperor, the genetic matches proved to exceptional in all cases. While it is still to early to properly study the genetic makeup of the embryos, we have estimated that between 37 and 45 percent will develop mutations. Unfortunately, this is not a certainty, and even when we can discover for certain, it will be impossible to learn the nature of the mutations until they actually manifest.”

“Thank you Ancient. You may be seated. And again, I commend you on your work.”

Pleased, Ted-Sion sits.

Calmly, Mas-Keed listens to the reports and question asked by the Ancients.

“The cloaking program utilized by the Supremor’s fleet has been successfully fitted into one or your own ships Emperor. We can guarantee that all vessels in the fleet will be outfitted with both the cloak and the absorption field within two months.”

“The rebuilding of Hala is nearly complete, though I must inform you that the work would have been finished long ago if not for your deadline on the Corps Compound.”

“Unfortunately, Empress S’bil has not yet answered our pleas for a diplomatic conference.”

“The borders are quiet at the moment, Emperor. It would seem that the Shi’ar have lost virtually all interest in the universe outside their own borders.”

“The military is not a billionth of its current strength. The recent wars have taken their toll, and troop morale is nothing of what it was in the days of the Skrull Wars. Even with the creation of the Kree Corps and the services of Star Gate, it is doubtful if we could defend against attacks from even the weakest of our old enemies.”

“Its about your attempts to reawaken the worship of Kee-Ree, Emperor. His name is unknown throughout most of the populace, and the return of magic is still too new and frightening.”

Dealing with this latest query, Mas-Kedd makes as though to rise. “If there is nothing else, there is a matter of dire import-“

“Another matter of importance, ‘Emperor’? Nevertheless, I shall be heard. I will not be denied!”

Sighing, Mas-Kedd sits back down and nods at the final Ancient. “What is it Pla-Cent. And please, be quick about it.”

Pla-Cent, the fiery young Ancient, snarls. “I’ll take all the time I wish. It is my right! It is also the right of the Ancients, and of the people you serve, to know what kind of deals you make with the Terrans behind our backs! Granting them the use of an outpost on the moon colony! Providing them with resources and riches known only to the Kree! And all for what, ‘my lord’? All for adamantium and vibranium. All for a few measly pounds of adamantium and vibranium!”

Mas-Kedd barely pays attention as Pla-Cent spends the next ten minutes lecturing the other Ancients on the properties of these metals and what foolishness it is to give up so much for so little. Finally, Mas-Kedd decides that enough is enough.

“Is this the extent of your complaints, Pla-Cent? A trading deal that you feel was one-sided?”

Pla-Cent opens his mouth to respond, but Mas-Kedd continues.

“Ancient, Quw-Cient, those materials were brought to your scientists for study. Would you be so kind as to inform the Council what you told me in private.”

Quw-Cient, a small man by Kree standards, slowly rises, uncomfortable at being the center of attention. “Well, um, we’ve done extensive studies on both substances, and we’ve reached several conclusions. We were able to discern, for instance, that adamantium is a synthetic material-“

“One moment, Ancient.” Mas-Kedd fixes his stare on Pla-Cent. “A synthetic metal, meaning that it is not natural and is therefore artificial. Continue Quw-Cient.”

“Eh, as I was saying, adamantium is synthetic. After a further study of the metal, my scientists and I believe that we have successfully identified the components that make up adamantium, and are already in the process of synthesizing it ourselves.”

“Thank you Quw-Cient.” Mas-Kedd looks back at Pla-Cent. “I traded for a small sample of adamantium. With that sample, we are now in the midst of synthesizing large quantities of the metal. What of the vibranium, Quw-Cient?”

At the question, the Ancient’s eyes light up. “Now that, that was a find indeed, Emperor. Our studies have shown that it is capable of absorbing and diffusing vibrations used against it, and even emits low-level vibrations of its own. As both a building material and as a source of energy, vibranium is indeed valuable.”

Mas-Kedd gives Pla-Cent a smile that does not reach his eyes. “Was there anything else, Ancient?”

Quw-Cient looks down at several notes in front of him. “Yes, Emperor. It has of course been common knowledge that vibranium was not nature to Earth, that it was in fact a meteor that crashed to Earth long ago. Knowing this, my scientists have been sending sound-waves of a precise frequency out into space, in an attempt to come across deposits of vibranium.”

“And have you, Ancient.”

Quw-Cient looks up at his emperor, his eyes wide with excitement. “Y-yes, we have. Several days ago we came across a small asteroid belt rich with vibranium within the empire itself.”

“Thank you, Quw-Cient.” Mas-Kedd addresses Pla-Cent. “Are you satisfied, Ancient? I acquired a small sample of adamantium so that it could be studied and synthesized. I acquired a small sample of vibranium so that it could be studied and identified, enabling us to find it on uninhabited planets or asteroid belts. I ask again, Ancient, are you satisfied?”

Pla-Cent looks up at his emperor, the anger and hate evident in his eyes. “In this matter, yes. However, there are other matters to which I demand answers. For instance, why is it that you have allowed the Dire Wraiths to maintain control over a planet formerly inhabited-“

“Enough!” Mas-Kedd commands, his presence drawn to its full effect. “You demand to know why we haven’t attacked the Dire Wraiths, Pla-Cent? You demand to know why we, a race that has been through near genocide and civil war, haven’t used our barely capable military to attack a planet-full of powerful and magical shape-shifters? The answer is quite simple, Ancient. I have allowed it because I wanted to prepare. Prepare the military. Prepare the gene-labs for study. Prepare the Kree Corps, who will be leading the assault.

“In other words, Ancient, I have allowed it because I was waiting for this morning, upon which I ordered a fleet of newly prepared star-ships to lay waste to all but a small area of the planet. After this assault, the Kree Corps will be teleported to the area, whereupon they will slaughter every Dire Wraith that they find.”

The Kree Corps. Recently formed, they are meant to be the elite, the special forces of the Kree Military. Made up of mutated Kree, they may very well live up to their expectations.

Decreeing that the Corps would require a base of operations, through which to train and prepare for the trials ahead, Emperor Mas-Kedd built a small, isolated military base deep within the wastes of Hala. Set up with the best in training, surveillance, cloaking and combat equipment, this base has become the home of the Kree Corps.

Deep within the base, the Kree Corps prepare for their mission against the Dire Wraiths. One member in particular prepares as only he can.

If the members of Kree Corps are the best of the Kree, then it could be said that the Grieve is the best of the best. Cursed with the memories of all Kree that died since the Nega Bomb, Grieve is also blessed with knowledge and fighting skills equaled by no other. Skills long forgotten, and knowledge that may never again be realized.

Within the vast training area of the base, Grieve goes through the motions, utilizing his weapon and body in various maneuvers. His nimble fingers dancing rapidly along the staff, Grieve spins it out in front of him, much like a shield. Quicker than the eye can follow, Grieve interrupts the spin, sending the butt of the staff outwards in a precise jab, then continuing the spin as if he had done nothing.

Every once in a while, Grieve will duck and respond with a quick, barely noticeable swing of the staff. Then his feet move, and the dance begins. Leaping about lightly, Grieve holds the staff with both hands on balance points, releasing numerous jabs, swings, and an occasional block. Also the hands and feet move, never standing at the same spot for more than an instant, nor gripping the staff in any one spot for more than an instant. With the grace of a honed warrior, Grieve dances with his invisible opponent.

Watching Grieve from the small observation booth above the training ground, Su-Ree and Skreel are amazed.

“Wow, he’s moving almost as fast as Var-Dann,” The Kree/Skrull hybrid exclaims, his green-tinged eyes trying to follow the movements.

“Impossible,” Su-Ree answers matter-of-factly. “Var-Dann could do all those motions before we could blink. Of course, he’d have to actually do those maneuvers. But from Grieve’s speed and skill, I’d have to say that he’s mastered those maneuvers.”

“But how?” Skreel asks. “I’ve never seen a weapon like that before, and never had the guys Grieve requested it from. They were weapon masters, and he had to describe it to them!”

Su-Ree looks up at Skreel like he was a fool. Before she can answer his question, she hears a great crash behind them. With a scream, she ducks to the floor, a very distinct thud sounding above her.

Lifting her head up, her eyes widen. Sticking out of the ceiling, barely an inch from Skreel’s frightened face, is the weapon that Grieve was training with. Though it resembles a staff, it most certainly isn’t. Blades of various lengths run up and down the haft, while the butts are adorned with small metal balls covered in short spikes.

“A simple below-hand throw, meant to cripple scouting aircraft,” Grieve calls out from below them. “Next time I won’t miss.”

“S-sure thing, Grieve,” Skreel splutters. “Uh, Su-Ree, I think you’d better move.” Skreel backs up against the wall of the observation booth.

Su-Ree looks up at Skreel, puzzled. Then she sees the weapon shift…

Barely in time, Su-Ree rolls out of the way, the weapon crashing down where she had lain.

Struggling to rise, Su-Ree hears a thump, and looks to see Grieve climb into the observation booth. Giving no notice to her or to Skreel, Grieve picks up the weapon-she doesn’t see how, with all those blades on the haft-and walks to the sliding doorway.

Before exiting, Grieve turns, looking at each with hard eyes. “The signal has been given. Report for debriefing in five minutes.” Grieve steps through the sliding doorway, and into the hall. ________________________________________________________________________

Striding through the hall, lightly twirling the weapon, Grieve heads for the debriefing room. Mas-Kedd has sent the signal at last. The Kree Corps will meet combat for the first time.

“Grieve! Hold it right there!”

Halting, Grieve slowly turns to face Captain At-Las, former supporter of the accursed Supremor. As usual, At-Las is outfitted in the standard Kree military uniform, complete with the crested helmet. Grieve, with his white uniform speckled with blue, is a sharp contrast.

At-Las approaches Grieve, towering over him. “What was that noise in the training area? The observation booth was totaled.”

Looking up at At-Las, Grieve somehow conveys the impression that it is he towering over At-Las. Smiling grimly, he answers. “My weapon slipped. It’s been known to happen, especially with spectators gawking and yapping, breaking a man’s concentration.”

At-Las looks Grieve’s weapon up and down with disgust. “Slipped, eh? I can see that happening, a primitive weapon like that.” At-Las fingers the blaster at his belt.

Grieve glances at the blaster before meeting At-Las’ gaze. “I suppose I should lower myself to a blaster? Perhaps wait in the bushes and kill my opponent before they know what happened? I am no coward, At-Las. I have more confidence in my skills than that.”

His sneer curling angrily into a snarl, At-Las stepped closer until he was face-to-face with Grieve. “Listen here you little pisser, another remark like that and I’ll kill you without a second thought. You may have done well against thugs in diapers and humans, but I’m the greatest Kree warrior ever.”

Unfazed, Grieve looks hard into At-Las’ eyes. “Keep telling yourself that, Captain. Every time you do, the more you disgrace the memories of the Kree, and the more I want to humiliate you.”

His mouth open in a silent scream of rage, At-Las slides his hand to his blaster. Likewise, Grieve slightly adjusts his grip on his weapon.

“Hey! Come on, you two! It’s time for the debriefing!” Jaxur calls from down the hall.

Sparing a gaze at the Accuser, At-Las sneers at Grieve before walking away. “Another time then, relic.”

Silently watching At-Las stride away, Grieve fingers his weapon, whispering to himself. “Someday, traitor, I will show you what it takes to master the kraft.”

In the large room, they are gathered. There is no table, no chairs. There is only a monitor on one wall and the door across from it. The Kree Corps are soldiers, and soldiers don’t need to be coddled before they kill.

Standing to the side of the monitor, near the corner, the silvery-blue Stargate silently watches. He barely ever pays attention, isn’t even considered a member of the Corps. He is merely the transport, and thus only needs to know where to go.

Korath the Pursuer sneaks a curious glance at the strange Kree, shaking his head and mumbling something to the cyborg next to him. Shatterax nods in agreement.

Dr. Minerva rushes to hug At-Las as he enters. Together, they walk behind Korath and Shatterax, their arms around one another. Watching the four from his own corner, Ultimus idly wonders why he had ever agreed to fight alongside them.

Observing the mysterious Ultimus, Skreel makes a lighthearted joke to the people around him. Su-Ree ignores him, while Var-Dann gives him a hard look.

Jaxur the Accuser stands next the monitor, prepared to begin the debriefing as soon as Grieve arrives.

The doorway sliding open, Grieve walks in, giving a nod of recognition to everybody. His unusual weapon is held firmly, as though an extension of himself. Nodding to Jaxur, he states, “We’re all here, Accuser. Let’s begin.”

Jaxur nods. “Yeah, okay. Corps, we’ve just been given our first assignment.” Pressing a stud on his gauntlet, the monitor hums to life. A projection of a planet comes into view. “This is Yeciw VI, a former colony of the Kree, now infested with the Dire Wraiths.”

Su-Ree speaks up. “That where Skreel and I battled Hybrid. It’s about time we went back there.”

“The Emperor and the Ancients agree,” Jaxur states. “The order was given this morning. A small fleet of starships has already begun to bombard the planet, wiping out virtually all life. Only a small gathering of Dire Wraiths remain there, isolated stranded there. We are to go in and slaughter them to the last one.”

“Why?”

Everyone looks around, startled, wondering whom it was that spoke out. Grieve steps forward. “Why are we being sent?”

Jaxur seems surprised by the question. “Well, um, Grieve, I’m afraid I don’t understand-“

“Why are we being sent to kill a few Dire Wraiths that could be killed as easily as all the others?” Grieve’s voice grows impatient, agitated.

Everybody looks around at each other, puzzled. They’d all been thinking along the same lines, but why question it? Snorting derisively, At-Las voices their thoughts. “What’s the matter, Grieve? You getting scared and looking for a way out? It’s a chance to kill some shape shifting scum, and I’m all for it.”

Grieve looks coldly at At-Las. “You would be. Should Skreel start sleeping with one why open?” At-Las takes a step forward, his fists clenched. But his expression isn’t defensive or denial, and Skreel notices.

Grieve turns back to Jaxur. “Mas-Kedd formed the Corps to defend the Kree. He wouldn’t risk us needlessly on a mission where we aren’t necessary. What’s his reason for sending us Jaxur?”

Jaxur just shrugs. “Like you said Grieve, he wouldn’t send us needlessly. Whatever his reasons are, they weren’t sent with the order. You can take it up with him later, but for now just grin and bear it.”

Grieve crossed his arms, silent throughout the remainder of the debriefing. But he didn’t grin once.

Jaxur continued by explaining exactly what the Dire Wraiths are, and the danger they pose. “Dire Wraiths are an off-shoot of the Skrulls. They can shape shift, and possess a form of telepathy to better impersonate someone. Female Dire Wraiths practice magic, while the males are predominately scientists. There shouldn’t be that many, so just consider this a clean-up exercise. Everybody ready?”

One-by-one, they nod. Grieve fingers one of the blades on his weapon, and At-Las is gripping his blaster. Ultimate Weapon in hand, Jaxur turns to Stargate and nods.

The altered Kree steps forward, surrounding in a soft blue light.

Grieve will never get used to teleportation. Since the first time it’s happened, he’s taken up a queer little habit. The instant before teleportation, he always blinks.

His eyelids close over his eyes as the soft light washes over him, hiding the sight of the sterile debriefing room. An instant later, his eyes are open to totally different surroundings. A blackened landscape of blasted earth and scorched stone, an area where nothing could survive.

Taking in their surroundings, the Corps quickly breaks into formation, stepping into a circle, backs together. They look out at the darkness surrounding them, searching for any sign of attack.

Blaster drawn, At-Las barks out the first command. “Everybody scatter! Let’s hunt down this Wraiths and end it quickly.”

“Belay that order!” Grieve barks out before anyone has a chance to move. He glares at At-Las. “These aren’t animals, they’re dangerous killers that are used to hiding out in the open. If we split up they’ll take us out one-by-one until there’s nothing left.”

At-Las is livid, but several of the others nod. Korath asks, “What do you suggest?”

Grieve looks out at the darkened area around them. “They’re shape shifters, so we have to be sure what we’re going to kill before we kill it. Su-Ree, cast an enchantment over our eyes so we can see past features.”

“We have sensors Grieve,” Jaxur states.

“True, but we need to be totally prepared. Do it Su-Ree.”

Closing her eyes, Su-Ree gestures with her hands, her feet moving in a dance. Soon her voice joins in the casting, a beautiful high song that is impossible to understand, but deeply moving. After a moment that was too brief on the ears, she stops and opens her eyes.

“It’s done. You can see the magical auras around the females. It’s the best I can do.”

“It’ll be enough,” Shatterax drones.

“This is how it will go,” Grieve states. “We move together until we get an idea of where the Wraiths are, then we split up accordingly. What you find dies. No holding back.” Slowly spinning his weapon in front of him, Grieve stares out at the darkness. “Ultimus, take flight and provide us with some light. Minerva, report the instant you sense anything. At-Las, react the moment Minerva senses anything. Let’s go.”

At-Las mutters something about poor leadership, while Ultimus rises above them. The Corps starts forward, but several pause when they see that Grieve still hasn’t moved. He seemed to be waiting for something; watching for something.

High above their heads, Ultimus released a blinding blast of incandescent light. Crying out in pain, At-Las, Minerva, Su-Ree, Skreel, Jaxur, and Var-Dann shielded their eyes from the brilliance. Korath and Shatterax were unaffected, due to their cybernetics, while Grieve had his back turned, and just didn’t seem to notice the light.

Thus, only those three and Ultimus saw what the light had unhidden, while Minerva became aware of the danger via her empathic powers. They were surrounding by over a hundred Dire Wraiths, all wielding blasters.

Swinging his weapon, Grieve leaped forward. “Stay together and hit ‘em hard! At-Las, concentrate on your link with Minerva! Korath! Shatterax! Buy the others time. Hit the ones in the rear Ultimus! Crush ‘em Corps!”

Smashing his weapon into the skull of one Dire Wraith, Grieve use the momentum to lift himself up, sending his feet careening into several other Wraiths. Whirling his weapon, Grieve smashed into the hordes, scattering the Dire Wraiths and killing those that won’t scatter.

Shaking the spots out of his eyes, At-Las leveled his pistol towards the danger Minerva sensed and fired. A scream of pain and the smell of burnt flesh told him that he’d struck home. Stepping in front of Minerva, At-Las continued blasting.

Blaster fire bouncing off his armor, Shatterax tore into the hordes, relying on his enhanced strength to keep them off balance. Behind him, Korath swung his batons, sending out crests of energy that drove the Dire Wraiths back and cleaved more than a few apart.

Far in the back of the hordes, explosions and screams of agony told everyone that Ultimus was doing his part. Hovering above like an angel, he hurled crackling death down upon the Dire Wraiths.

His vision returning, Jaxur hurls aside the Dire Wraiths coming at him. Whipping his Cosmi-Rod about, the Accuser sends out waves of cold and heat at the Dire Wraiths. Screaming in agony, many of the Wraiths burst into flames, while others freeze into statues of ice, shattering at the slightest contact. Crashing his Cosmi-Rod to the ground, Jaxur issues forth powerful tremors, shattering these statues and scattering the Dire Wraiths.

Su-Ree and Skreel try to stay back from the fighting, protecting each other to keep the Dire Wraiths back. Morphing his arms into blades, Skreel slices at any Wraith that gets past Su-Ree’s eldritch blasts.

His vision cleared, At-Las continues to blast away at the Dire Wraiths, doing his best to avoid getting shot himself. “These must all be males, Minerva. I don’t see a single magic aura around any of them!”

“Perhaps they are lying in wait, preparing their spell,” Minerva shouts blasting from behind At-Las.

“Yeah, maybe,” At-Las mutters. But then he notices something out of the corner of his eye. “Or maybe they’re here among us!” He shouts, blasting at the creature surrounded in an aura.

Crying out in pain, Jaxur feels the blast nail him from behind. “Damn that hurts! Good thing my armor held. Now where the hell is that damn coward…” Turning, Jaxur snarls at the creature that shot him. A creature surrounded in an aura.

“Let’s see you fight face-to-face, you damn Dire Wraith bitch!” Jaxur leaps forward, Cosmi-Rod raised.

At-Las flies forward at his enemy. “I see ya, ugly! Now it’s time to kill you!”

At-Las and Jaxur collide in mid-air, both grappling for the Cosmi-Rod. Both surrounded in auras of magic; auras that each can see thanks to Su-Ree’s spell.

Whirling his weapon, Grieve repels the blaster fire and destroys the blaster in the Dire Wraith’s hand. Swinging his weapon up, Grieve catches the creature on the chin, squishing the Dire Wraith like silly putty. Hearing battle behind him, Grieve turns, fearful that the Wraiths managed to get past their defensive perimeter.

What he sees are At-Las and Jaxur fighting, surrounding in auras. He sees the auras around the entire team.

“No!” Grieve cries, fighting to reach his teammates. Minerva stands over the two grappling Kree, desperately trying to tell each what the other is. No doubt she’s even trying to contact At-Las through their link. But the hot blood of battle is too strong, and her words fall on deaf ears.

Behind her, a Dire Wraith grabs Minerva by the hair, hauling her to the ground. Minerva desperately fights free, but the Wraith merely shifts to a large creature of greater strength. The blue-skinned doctor can only watch in horror as the creature’s tendrils near her skull.

Slammed by an outside force, the Dire Wraith over Minerva topples to the side, dead. Standing over her, Grieve grasps Minerva’s arm and helps her up. “Doctor, keep trying to reach At-Las, but keep an eye out. Korath and Shatterax haven’t noticed yet, possibly thanks to their reliance on cybernetics, and Ultimus is too focused on the Dire Wraiths farther away.”

Minerva nods. “I’ll try and get them to see reason, but the hatred is just too much. It’s like they’re taking whatever reason they can to fight.”

Grieve nods. “Just do what you can to keep them from killing each other. I’ll get Su-Ree to remove the spell.” Leaving Minerva near At-Las and Jaxur, Grieve slams into a small grouping of Dire Wraiths.

Swinging his weapon through the spongy flesh of the shape shifters, Grieve desperately searches for signs of Skreel and Su-Ree. Finally, spotting her eldritch blasts, Grieve makes his way in that direction. Several Dire Wraiths blasts at him, but Grieve easily blocks them with his weapon. Swinging wide, he catches several of the Wraiths in the skulls, sending them crumbling. Jabbing at the last one, Grieve catches it in the gut with a spiked ball. Grunting with exertion, Grieve lifts the Dire Wraith up and over him, slamming the carcass into a small grouping behind him

In the meantime, Minerva is doing her best, but to no avail. The Cosmi-Rod discarded nearby, Jaxur and At-Las slug it out old style. Though evenly matched strength-wise, At-Las has the edge in experience and agility. Only Jaxur’s Accuser armor keeps him going. Taking At-Las’ punches without flinching, Jaxur backhands At-Las, hurtling him aside.

Twisting in mid-air, At-Las flies into Jaxur, sending them both to the ground.

Wait a minute, how’d this Dire Wraith fly- Jaxur’s thoughts are interrupted as At-Las goes for his throat squeezing tightly. Jaxur desperately fights the grip, but already he feels dizzy, his vision darkening…

“At-Las! No!” Minerva screams, sending waves of emotion through their empathic link. His grip weakens only slightly, but it’s enough for Jaxur to jab At-Las in the chin, breaking the grip and knocking him off. Leaping onto At-Las, the struggle continues.

Driving one end of his weapon into the Dire Wraith’s back, Grieve smiles grimly at the sound of the spine snapping. Letting the body drop to the ground, Grieve jabs his weapon out to one side, kicking out at the other side. Two more Wraiths drop.

Fighting through the dead or the dying, Grieve finally gets Su-Ree in sight. “Su-Ree! Grieve cries out, deftly disarming another Wraith and crushing its skull. “There aren’t any females here! Drop the spell.”

Looking up in Grieve’s direction, Su-Ree let’s out a snarl, raising her hand and throwing a blast of eldritch energy his way. Damn, Grieve thinks. She thinks I’m a Dire Wraith too. I’ll have to take her out.

Dropping the weapon, Grieve rolls under the blast. Reaching Su-Ree, Grieve leaps up, nailing her in the jaw with a powerful uppercut. With a cry, Su-Ree falls back, unconscious.

“No!” Skreel cries, turning to face Grieve. “You bastard! I’m gonna guy you like a fish-“

“Shut up Skreel,” Grieve barks. “Su-Ree’s spell was doing more harm than good. We were able to see the magic of her enchantment around each other. Didn’t you see an aura around her?”

Skreel pauses, stunned. “W-well yeah, but I figured it was because she was a sorceress and-“

“At-Las and Jaxur were ready to kill each other, and there’s no telling what would have happened if Ultimus looked down and saw a bunch of glowing Kree.” Grieve looks down at Su-Ree, thankful that the aura is gone. “Pick her up and keep her safe. The fight looks about over, but we’ll need to check the dead for decoys.”

Grieve gazes out at the field of dead around him. Over a hundred Dire Wraiths slaughtered. No, not slaughtered. It had been a hard-fought battle. These Dire Wraiths died fighting, unlike the thousands that were razed by the fleet.

Korath and Shatterax stand in the midst of dozens of Wraiths, neither breathing heavily. Var-Dann, whom Grieve hadn’t even noticed the entire fight, leaned against a three, looking at all the dead curiously. No doubt he’d been responsible for more than a few of the bodies here.

Above them, Ultimus was cleaning up, aiming carefully for any surviving Dire Wraiths. Every now and then a scream would ring out, until only silence remained.

Lowering himself to the ground, Ultimus nodded. “It’s over.”

Grieve is inclined to agree, but they need to be sure. “Korath, Shatterax, scan the area for life signs. Besides us.”

“No need,” Var-Dann states, blurring in front of Grieve. “I just checked them all for life signs. The few that were still alive aren’t anymore.”

Grieve points to Jaxur and At-Las, slumped against each other, exhausted. “As for you two; don’t rely so much on Su-Ree. A little common sense helps too. Jaxur, what now?”

Struggling to his feet, Jaxur leans on his Cosmi-Rod for support. It’s obvious that he’s embarrassed by his actions. “Um, if I remember the orders correctly, we just need to wait for a ship from the fleet to land. Stargate’ll be here to pick us up when that happens.”

As if on cue, Stargate appears in a flash of blue light. He a cold, emotionless voice, he addressed the Corps.

“Correct Accuser. You will notice that the ship has just entered the planet’s orbit. It is now time to go.”

Before anybody can react, Stargate bathes them all in blue light, and they vanish. Instantly they reappear in the debriefing room, Stargate nowhere to be seen.

Korath looks around, confused. “Did I miss something, do did that freak just kick us out?”

Grieve shakes his head, gripping his weapon. “You missed nothing, Korath. The Emperor did not want us to greet that vessel.” Blood trickles down the haft, the blades sinking into Grieve’s skin. “Mas-Kedd is hiding something, and not just from us I can assure you.”

Still gripping his weapon, Grieve strides past Shatterax and Ultimus towards the door. As the door opens for him, Jaxur calls out to him.

“Grieve, wait.” Grieve pauses and looks over his shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…what is that thing?”

Grieve looks down at the bloody staff in his hands. “An ancient weapon. It is nearly as old as the Kree; designed specifically for the Kree. Heavy and clumsy, it requires great strength and dexterity to wield properly. In the days when the Kree were divided and isolated on Hala, children were trained in its use from birth. Once, all Kree warriors were masters in its use.”

Grieve looks up from the weapon to his fellow Corpsmen. Raising the staff over his head, he names it. “This is the kraft.”

Next Issue: What is Emperor Mas-Kedd hiding? The answer will be made known amidst blood and death, as the Corps is called in to combat terrorists. Who are the Cult of Ki-Ree, and what do they want?