August - Year 5
	#3

The Grieve picked his way through the devastated laboratory as though he’d done it all his life. In a way, he had. Barely half a day ago, over a dozen Kree scientists from the genetics caste were brutally killed by a terrorist faction known as the Cult of Ki-Ree. The power of the Grieve is that he gains the memories of all Kree upon the moment of their death. Curiously, in the case of those scientists, the transfer was delayed.

“Skreel, I’m picking up a multitude of energy readings here,” Grieve spoke aloud, communicating to his teammate via the transmitter in his helmet. “Plasma from the blasters, which is to be expected, but everything else doesn’t make sense. Electricity, varying signatures of radiation, numerous traces of teleportation and psionic energy, even eldritch energies.”

“Doesn’t all that fit,” Skreel responds from his seat at the computer monitoring station at the Corps Compound, far outside of the city of Kree-Lar. “I mean, they teleported in and out, and you already know that some of them use magiks.”

“It’s not the energies themselves, its the number of them.” Grieve looks over the area, computer read-outs flashing across his helmet. “I don’t know how to explain it, but everything’s lumped together, and half of these traces are where they shouldn’t be. It goes beyond mere demolition. These guys wanted to leave a long and confused trail, and it’s working. It’ll take me hours to shift through everything.”

“Maybe I can help. I do have one hell of a set-up here at my fingertips.”

Grieve pauses for a minute, looking over pieces of the shattered equipment. “Maybe you can. Tap into the mainframe and tell me exactly what field of study this laboratory was for.”

“Sure thing. Just give me a sec.” Several minutes of typing go by, and Grieve faintly hears Skreel mutter “I might as well play the Supremor at skorps * while I’m at it”.

*(skorps = something similar to chess)

Finally, Skreel raises his voice. “Research mostly, particularly in genetic mutations in fetuses and the possibility of modifications.”

“Is that so?” Grieve mutters. “If that’s the case, then I should find some sort of physical evidence of it. Genetic samples of Kree and various other races, deceased fetuses, models, notes; none of that is here. Either the Cult wiped this place, or somebody did it after the fact. Since I know for a fact that the Cult didn’t do it, that means it occurred afterwards. Access the security monitors and find out who was first on the scene.”

There’s a pause of faint static as Skreel does what he’s told. “An Accuser and about five soldiers arrived first. They drove off the Cult and captured three, then contacted the Corps per their orders. They left when we showed up, and they didn’t do anything to disturb the sc-wait a minute....”

Another short pause before Grieve hears Skreel’s voice. “I noticed a small abnormality, and just went through it second by second. Well, between one second and the next, the scene completely changes. Everything is upset, and some things even vanish. Grieve, this happened before Jaxur and the others arrived, and when the soldiers weren’t looking. Somebody sure wiped the place, and he was fast.”

Grieve only whispers one word. “Var-Dann. I can’t see him doing this on his own. He was following orders from somebody, but the question is who. Skreel, do a memory scan of the lab’s files over the last few days. We need to know what was being worked on.”

Silence.

Grieve frowns. “Skreel? Come in, damn you!”

“Huh?” Skreel’s voice jolts back. “Yeah, I’m here. I’ve got nothing Grieve. The memory banks were wiped completely.” At the Compound, a finger pressed the Delete key, and the text-filled screen goes blank. “Sorry, but whoever it is that’s behind this covered things well.”

Grieve sighs in frustration. “Okay, listen to me carefully. Monitor all transmission within Hala, and keep me up to date on anything relating to this incident. Also, withhold a report to the Accusers until I get back to you. I don’t care if the Emperor himself gives an order, you are not to inform him of this cover-up. For now, this stays inside the Corps. Is that clear?”

“I understand.” Fingers danced across the console, transmitting the orders to someone else. “Just get back to me soon. I’d rather not risk disobeying the Emperor.”

Grieve frowns again, his brow furrowing as he leans over a computer console in the lab. “I’ll do my best. Grieve out.”

As Grieve cut the connection, he linked his suit to the computer, and began to search through the short-term memory banks.

Far off in the cold reaches of space, several star systems from Hala and the mystery brewing there, bright sunlight glittered dully on the chunks of pure vibranium that floated within the asteroid belt. Now, the sunlight was blocked, and seven long shadows crept over the asteroids. At the edge of the asteroid cluster, seven figures descended towards it.

Captain At-Las

Dr. Minerva

Shatterax

Korath the Pursuer

Ultimus

Captain Var-Dann

Jaxur the Accuser

Seven Kree soldiers. Seven members of the elite Kree military squad known as the Kree Corps.

“Keep a close watch,” Jaxur cautioned. His massive Accuser armor, as well as his Cosmi-Rod, served a variety of functions. For the moment, the life support was what he depended on. “At-Las, Minerva, Korath, Ultimus. You have the most maneuverability out here, so fan out and let us know what you find.”

At-Las just gives Jaxur a cold look before he spouts out orders. “Ultimus and Minerva to the left, Korath and I will go to the right. You three can keep moving forward. If you see anything, call the rest and sit tight. Let’s go.”

“Not bad, At-Las,” Jaxur stated. “But maybe it’d be best if-” But At-Las and the others had already moved either not hearing or ignoring him. Since they each have a radio transmitter in their helmets, odds are on the latter.

Fuming, Jaxur turns to Shatterax and Var-Dann. Shatterax is a cyborg, encased in an advanced armor that was directly linked to his central nervous system. Var-Dann, however, wore the standard Kree spacesuit. The woven crystal fabric converted sunlight to allow for the thrusters, generation of heat, and conversion of the exhaled breath into nitrogen. The suit was even capable of keeping the body hydrated, allowing for one to float in space for weeks.

“All right,” Jaxur states. “We’ll continue into the asteroid belt and see what we can find. Try to keep your ears open. If they find anything, they’ll need immediate back-up.”

Var-Dann snorts derisively. “Immediate. One thing I can’t do. Here in zero gravity, I’m as fast as you are. Problem is, I’m not used to moving so slowly, so my reaction time suffers.”

To drive the point home, Var-Dann lunges towards Jaxur, who instinctively dodges with ease. Before Var-Dann can properly maneuver, Shatterax had already moved in took hold of him.

“He’s right,” Shatterax’s electronic voice hums. “He’s a liability in space.”

Var-Dann shakes free. “You’re damn right I am! Su-Ree should have come in my place.”

Jaxur raises his hand to silence the both of them. “I agree with both of you, but it’s too late to change things. Var-Dann, just see this as a chance to practice moving like a normal Kree. Now, let’s stop bitching about bad decisions that we had no control over, and focus on kicking some terrorist ass.”

Shatterax nods his insect-like armored head. “My sensors register an energy anomaly to the right and down of us. Korath should be detecting it as well, and should be contacting us at any-”

Captain At-Las’ voice barked three words though the transmitters. “We found something.”

Silently nodding to each other, Jaxur, Var-Dann, and Shatterax activated their thrusters and set off towards At-Las and Korath. A moment later, Minerva pulls in from far behind to join them, while Ultimus zooms past without a word.

The four Corpsmen had navigated the asteroid field for several short minutes before Shatterax stopped abruptly. “The anomaly is just past the next two vibranium meteors. Ultimus is several hundred meters below, gathering up vast amounts of cosmic energy. At-Las and Korath, judging by their energy trails, had separated, moved past the anomaly from either side, and met up again roughly fifty meters behind it.”

“At-Las is getting impatient,” Minerva cuts in. “He wants the four of us to move in first, to take the attention of whatever’s at the ‘anomaly’.

Shatterax cuts in quickly. “Two Kree metahumans in standard suits, possibly the two miners that failed to report. There are also half a dozen humanoids in high powered armor resembling those used by the Star Stealth.”

Minerva continues. “When they’re distracted by us, At-Las and Korath will hit them from behind. Ultimus will then slash through them from below. The combined assault should decimate them.”

Jaxur sneaks a glance at Var-Dann. “You ready for this, Captain? You fought alongside the Star Stealth before, haven’t you?”

“I’m hardly in a position to make a difference here,” Var-Dann snarls, “for good or ill. Besides, whoever wears the armor of the Star Stealth today, they are traitors. They deserve nothing short of death!”

“They’ll get it soon enough,” Jaxur agrees. “Shatterax and I will take the point. Minerva, stay back from the fighting and use your empathic skills to keep us one step ahead of them. The same goes for you Var-Dann. If any of them get past us, blast him.”

“You’ve tried At-Las’ patience,” Minerva exclaims. “He and Korath are attacking!”

“What!” Jaxur exclaims in kind. Minerva reaches forwards and touches Jaxur’s helmet. He immediately sees an image of At-Las and Korath moving towards a glowing chunk of ice surrounded my massive armored forms. Near the glowing ice, the two with standard suits float limply, clearly unconscious.

At-Las wears the standard spacesuit, designed to protect against most weak attacks, and carries a high-powered energy rifle that could blast through his suit like paper. His rifle blasts barely unfazed the armored figures, however. Fortunately, Korath can deal out significantly more damage. His space armor is basically his normal armor with add-ons to allow for space combat. His power batons are held in compartments on the underside of his forearms, bathing his arms in glowing energy. Korath’s energy blasts, backed by the converted solar energy, manages to stagger the armored figures, slowing their advance.

“Damn!” Jaxur cries. “They don’t have the power to hold against that kind of armor. Shatterax, we move now!”

“It is time,” Shatterax states simply. Built-in weapons all over his body charge as the massive cyborg kicks in his thrusters and hurtles towards the massive asteroid separating them from the battle. The moment before he collides, Shatterax unleashes a powerful eye-blast, shattering the asteroid into dust.

Normally, the noise would startle one or more of the armored forms, and they would turn to see Shatterax bearing down on them. However, there is no sound is the airless void of space, so the action goes unnoticed.

Silently, Shatterax bears down on the armored forms. Jaxur soars close behind, his Cosmi-Rod raised high and glowing with cosmic energy.

“Var-Dann! Minerva! Grab the two by the anomaly!” Jaxur yells through the comm-link as he nears their armored opponents.

Captain At-Las, desperately blasting and avoiding return fire, looks and manages not to give away the fact that two of the most powerful Corpsmen are about to join in the fight. “You took too long.”

“It’s better this way,” Jaxur returns. “You and Korath can’t do much, while Shatterax and I...” Jaxur swings his Cosmi-Rod down, slamming one opponent in the shoulder. Next to him, Shatterax blasts two with an blast from each hand. They slam into nearby asteroids mildly incapacitated.

The armored Kree that Jaxur struck swings around, crashing it’s arm against Jaxur’s head. Rolling with the blow, Jaxur brings his Cosmi-Rod up, nailing his opponent on the underside of his helmet and sending him hurtling upwards. As two others move towards Jaxur, he calls up his Cone of Invulnerability just in time for their blasts to ricochet off it.

“Shatterax, try and tap into their communicators. Ultimus, get up her and help us end this.” The Cosmi-Rod in Jaxur’s hands glows with power, and a wave of energy is unleashed towards the two armored figures. As their suits of salvaged armor melt and harden into useless slag, Jaxur hears their screams through the newly acquired access to their transmission frequency.

Beneath his helmet, Jaxur smiles. It is right that traitors should feel the wrath of the Accusers of the Kree Empire!

Through his transmitter, Jaxur hears an unfamiliar voice, and knows that its the last armored traitor in decent shape.

“The Corps is here Gondar, but they’re killing us like we’re nothing! We may not be able to keep them back!.”

High above, Shatterax has chased Jaxur’s first opponent and locked him within a capture globe. Of the two Shatterax blasted, one floats without conscious, while Korath batters at the other with energy-charged fists.

As Jaxur soars towards the last one with his Cosmi-Rod crackling, he hears the voice of Gondar issue one last command.

“You know what you must do. All lives are meaningless save for the Eternal Ones.”

Below, Ultimus is has already unleashed a massive burst of cosmic energy. Jaxur follows suit, a jet of lightning arching forth from his Cosmi-Rod.

And yet, before either attack hits, their target quietly whispers, “All lives are meaningless save for the Eternal Ones,” and fires a blast straight towards the glowing chunk of ice. He is incinerated instantly in instant later, destroyed by the combined power of two Corpsmen. But his aim is true.

The glowing ice is struck, and shatters at the blow. When he’d passed it before, Jaxur thought he’d recognized the outline of a man within the ice. Now, as fragments of ice hurtle outwards, Jaxur sees that it wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. Where the ice once floated, there now floats a man.

A man bathed in cosmic fire.

A man that moves in conscious life in an atmosphere where nothing can live.

A man that looks towards Jaxur with eyes of green fire.

Green fire that even now arches towards Jaxur, as though with a life of it’s own.

Then, for Jaxur, the world is green and hot, the black and cold. As the darkness and the cold invades his mind, Korath’s voice follows him into oblivion.

“By Hala! That thing just fried Jaxur! Look out Ultimus! Argh!!!!!!”

Grieve strode through the halls of the Palace of the Ancients. He fingered his belt, aware of the memory chip held within, and angry at the information the chip contained. As Grieve turned down the corridor that would lead to the Heart Hall, pangs of doubt crept through his mind.

If only he hadn’t left the kraft at the Compound. With the ultimate weapon in his hands, the remainder of the great history of the Kree, he knows that he could accomplish anything.

For what Grieve planned, he would need all the help he could find.

Grieve came in sight of the doors that would lead into the Heart Hall. His step only hesitated for a moment at the sight of Chancellor Sal-Vor and a trio of the Watchers of the Ancients. Gathering up his courage, soaking in the knowledge of a dead people, Grieve boldly continues forward.

“Stand aside Sal-Vor.” Grieve states proudly. “I have business with the Emperor.”

The Chancellor remains standing before the massive double doors, but the Watchers move towards Grieve. “I am sorry, noble Corpsman, but the Emperor is meeting with the Ancients. As you well know, it is punishable by death to interrupt.”

Grieve barely notices the Watchers as continues towards Sal-Vor. “And you should know, able administrator, that whatever it is they are arguing about does not compare to the news I hold. I will interrupt, and Hala be damned of the consequences!”

The Watchers of the Ancients move as one, their technique flawless and they strike at Grieve from three directions. The Watchers were once experts of all forms of combat, each one capable of slaying a War Skrull with their bare hands. When wielding their blaster swords, as these Watchers are now, even a Sentry would not have stood a chance.

But for all that these Watchers may be compared to their predecessors, Grieve is more. He is the best of them. He is the men that trained them. He is the best of the Accusers, and the men that trained them. He is a champion of the Blood Sport, and once fought Nightmare of the fabled Justice Alliance to a stand-still. The Grieve is all this and more, because these men are dead, and their skills are his skills.

These pale imitations of the once legendary Watchers of the Ancients fall before they realize their error.

Seconds later, Chancellor Sal-Vor stares in shock as Grieve continues towards him. The unconscious Watchers of the Ancients lie unmoving, their shattered weapons lying beside their broken hands. “Im-impossible! Those are among the greatest fighters in the Empire.”

“Before the Nega Bomb, there were better,” Grieve coldly replies. “Let. Me. Pass.”

Sal-Vor had never moved so quickly in his entire life.

Grieve strode past the overweight Chancellor, threw the massive double doors open, and entered the Heart Hall of the Ancients.

High above Grieve, on the massive balcony that encircled the Hall, the Ancients argued, unaware that one has dared to interrupt.

“These attacks are only another sign of the Empire’s weakness! How long will the vibranium mines be delayed! Every day we wait, we risk the chance of another race invading and taking what is ours!”

“Who, Pla-Cent? The Shi’ar cannot, Earth is to far away, the Skrulls have their own problems, and the Dire Wraiths are almost extinct! If we must delay the extraction of a paltry resource in order to destroy some upstart traitors, then so be it.”

“I agree with Jean-Dam. This bizarre Cult must be disposed of before they can further hinder our genetic researching.”

“I am still uneasy about this research, Ted-Sion. The Nega Bomb catalyst has already done most of the work. Perhaps it is best that we allow nature to take its course?”

“The last time that happened, Mal-Har, we hit a dead-end. For all the Supreme One’s faults, his actions have allowed for our people to grow far past anyone’s imaginations!”

Grieve has chosen his moment to make himself known, and it is now. He steps forward, his loud voice carrying high into the Hall. “You speak of research, Ancient of Genetics? Does that include artificially manipulating the genes of unborn Kree? Does that include combining Kree DNA with those of other races, particularly those we call foe!”

For a moment, Ted-Sion is flabbergasted, both at this interruption and these accusations. Fortunately, before he can respond in his defense, Ancient of Trade Pla-Cent explodes.

“How dare you interrupt a meeting between the Ancients! This borderlines on treason, Corpsman! You and your accusations are forfeit for such an offense!”

Grieve looks up and fixes his steely gaze on the young Ancient. “My life, Ancient, is forfeit only if you have the balls to try and take it. As for my accusations, they hold more merit than whatever arguments you hold.”

As Pla-Cent goes red-faced with rage, Grieve presses a switch on his belt. A beam of light shoots from the center of his belt and forms into a hologram in the center of the all. “What you see here is the research that was being carried out at the attacked lab,” Grieve says. “Most of you should recognize the standard genes as Kree. However, you may not recognizes the DNA strands be grafted in. To what race do those strands belong, Ancient Ted-Sion?”

Ted-Sion’s pink skin is now totally white, and there is a thick bead of sweat on his brow. He licks his dry and cracked lips nervously, and opens his mouth to answer that those strands belong to Dire Wraiths.

But before he can answer....

“That is enough.”

The powerful, commanding voice rings throughout the Hall. Grieve, as well as the twelve Ancients look towards the owner of that voice. Emperor Mas-Kedd, silent all this time, has spoken.

The Emperor fixes his gaze at Grieve. “Your accusations, Corpsman, be they true or false, carry no weight. In order to safeguard the future of the Kree, difficult decisions must be made. It is not your place to call us down for these decisions.”

“It is not my place,” Grieve responds. “But it is my place to make the Ancients aware of such decisions made behind their backs! It is my place to inform the people of a cover-up to hide the fact that such decisions had been made. That is my place, Emperor, and whatever my actions, these facts carry weight, no matter what you say!”

Seated on his throne, Emperor Mas-Kedd looks down on Grieve, saddened that he has been forced to say what he is about to say. “Corpsman Grieve, for interrupting a meeting of the Ancients, I name you traitor. For seeking to degrade the good name of an Ancient, I name you traitor. For calling down the decisions made by the Ancients, and most especially your Emperor, I name you traitor.”

All around the Heart Hall, double doors open, spilling forth tens of Watchers of the Ancients. As they near Grieve cautiously, Mas-Kedd continues. “You shall be confined to the dungeons, and executed at first light.”

Grieve looks up at Mas-Kedd, boring into his Emperor’s very soul with those cold, dead eyes. Finally, Grieve raises his hand, and places them behind his head. “My only regret, Emperor, is in ever agreeing to serve you.”

The Watchers grab Grieve roughly and push him out of the Heart Hall. Once the doors close, the assembled Ancients explode.

“All goes according to plan Gondar. I have successfully taken control of the Corps Compound. Stargate is locked in stasis, and I’ve tapped into its programming.”

“Excellent,” Gondar the Accuser’s voice responds. “And you’re teammate?”

“No longer a problem. In addition, I’ve tapped recent reports at the Palace. Grieve interrupted a meeting of the Ancients, just as the Eternal One expected.”

“All we needed to do was show him the illusion of a conspiracy, and the fool did the rest. With Grieve out of the way, and the rest of the Corps in no position to act, it is time for the Cult to make their move.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Gondar.” Su-Ree holds up a piece of amber and observes it as she speaks over the communicator. “When you’re ready, I’ll program Stargate to beam you into the palace. It’s high time that we free the Eternal One, Ki-Ree.”

Su-Ree peers into the piece of amber, at the small, unmoving form of Skreel, and she smiles.

Next Issue: With the Kree Corps scattered and crumbling, the Cult of Kee-Ree make their move against the Palace of the Ancients. Did Jaxur, Korath, and Ultimus survive the initial attack of the anomaly, or are the rest of the team in deep trouble? This much is promised: A Corpsman dies!

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