Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Abigail Brand, Director of S.W.O.R.D., walks up to a figure in uniform, staring out the transparisteel viewing deck of Excalibur – the spacebound headquarters of the agency she commands.

The figure in question is a recent addition to the space station’s roster: Admiral Ellen Sanda, newly appointed by the World Security Council to consult on Project ATLAS – an initiative immediately derived from the capture of the alien vessel known as the Chimeran Hammer, which should eventually lead to Earth fielding a small but formidable number of space-worthy warships. Admiral Sanda herself has been handpicked to helm the fleet’s theoretical flagship – something of an amusing notion, she thinks, given construction on the superstructure has scarcely begun and the most optimistic projections put its completion at an estimated three years in the future, and more realistically, five to seven years.

Still, she supposes, it’s the thought that counts. Between the Chitauri invasion of New York and Vilgax’s failed attempt at tearing the Omnitrix from Ben’s wrist, Earth needs the reassurance that such a fleet would bring. Fury may prefer to rely on espionage, spec-ops strike teams, and straight-up superheroes, but in her less-than-humble opinion, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers alone are just not gonna cut it if some alien warlord and their whole damn navy up and decides Earth is ripe for the taking.

Vilgax brought a single (if formidable) warship; what happens if Thanos decides to do away with sneaky wormhole plans and brings the full might of the Black Order to the solar system?

“Enjoying the view, Admiral?” –Abigail asks, leaning on her cane.

Admiral Sanda scoffs. “Getting used to it, more like.” –she confesses, giving half a step away from the viewport. “I’m no Moon landing truther, but it’s one thing to see the images NASA shows you of space and another thing entirely to witness the vastness of the cosmos for yourself.”

“Y’know, ironically, some of those Moon landing conspiracy theorists are a little closer to the truth than most rational individuals would believe.” –Abigail shrugs. “None of the Apollo 11 mission was faked, of course, but the SSR did have to tightly control where they were meant to land, lest they stumble on the handful of concealed, derelict alien structures that dot Luna’s surface.”

To her credit, Admiral Sanda barely pales a little. “And there it is: the price of accepting this posting. I’ll add it to the list of things I wish I didn’t need to know.” –she grouses. “A list I’m sure will only get longer and longer.”

Abigail chuckles. “That’s the job, Admiral.”

The door to the viewing deck slides open, and Hala limps in. The rogue Kree Accuser is stone-faced, as usual, but Abigail can tell that she’s doing her best to conceal her skepticism and mistrust for the WSC appointee; anyone else might mistake it for jealousy, as Admiral Sanda will effectively be replacing Hala’s position after Vilgax smashed through the former Kree blockade whenever Project ATLAS finally delivers, but Abigail knows better; Hala doesn’t care for such petty rivalries, she just wants the Earth to have the best defenders possible, and Hala doubts that a former US Navy Admiral, no matter how respected or decorated, has what it takes to protect the planet on such a different stage.

Admiral Sanda hasn’t met Hala yet, but she’s been briefed on her presence and former role on behalf of the Kree Empire. Still, her eyes widen a bit – Hala must be the first alien she’s ever seen in person. “You’re the Kree Accuser, correct?” –she prompts.

Hala narrows her eyes, but nods. “For the time being, yes. I’ve not heard from the homeworld regarding my many breaches of protocol in defense of your planet, so I remain Hala the Accuser.”

“This is Admiral Ellen Sanda.” –Abigail introduces, though Hala’s obviously aware. “I just had her brought up from the Garrison so she can get a little bit acquainted with the more secretive side of our organization.”

“Yes, most humans tend to be a bit surprised when they find out there’s a secret superweapon floating over their heads.” –Hala reposes. She gives a rare, sardonic smile. “We’ve been accused of building a ‘Death Star’ several times.”

Admiral Sanda stares blankly at the Kree. “Y’know, from Star Wars?” –Abigail offers.

“Ah. Apologies, I never saw those films.” –Sanda says, somewhat at a loss.

Abigail winces. “I wouldn’t admit that out loud in this station if I were you. You’re liable to get abducted for a marathon, rank and protocol be damned.”

The Admiral’s visage turns harsh. “I’ll assume that’s a joke; this place is supposed to be Earth’s first line of defense, not a science fiction club.”

“Oh, it was a joke, of course.” –Abigail clarifies, firmly gripping her cane. “But the spirit of it is close to the real heart of S.W.O.R.D.; we’re not a nation’s military, or a poorly overseen international spy agency – we’re explorers, first and foremost, and every single one of us is here because of our love for the cosmos, and our desire to show its many, many inhabitants that humanity is worthy of joining galactic society.” –she states. “That our art, our sciences, and inventions – and yes, even our silly sci-fi movies – make us unique, and a valuable addition to the galactic stage.”

“Perhaps.” –Sanda says, unconvinced. “But this inspiring notion of yours will be entirely irrelevant if we don’t do our part in keeping the planet safe.”

“On that, we agree.” –Hala says, giving Abigail a pointed look.

Abigail resists the urge to sigh – what else could she expect from a pair of career military women, human or otherwise? – nodding along instead. “There’s certainly room for both lines of thinking in S.W.O.R.D.” –she allows, leaving no room for further argument. Abigail gestures out of the room with her cane. “Shall we get on with the tour, then?”

Much like its mythical namesake, Excalibur is roughly shaped like a sword; the domed command bridge is situated where a pommel would be, with various living quarters and hangar bays below it making up the ‘hilt’, followed by the crossguard-like stabilizers and thrusters, leading to the most powerful weapon in humanity’s arsenal – a nearly half a mile long particle cannon capable of accelerating charged ions to a fraction of the speed of light, delivering an equivalent payload in excess of 70 megatons of TNT, half again as powerful as the biggest nuclear weapon ever fielded on Earth, and fully capable of destroying or disabling modern alien warships – even dreadnoughts and battleships.

If this thing hit New York, the destruction would spread as far as New Jersey.

Fortunately, Excalibur’s BFG is pointed strictly away from the planet. A number of safeguards keep the space station from ever aiming anywhere within 15° of Earth’s circumference, to the point that Excalibur will self-destruct on the spot if it’s somehow still forced into such a firing arc. Many in S.W.O.R.D. and the World Security Council argued against such safeguards – and perhaps they were somewhat proven right recently, given Excalibur could do nothing against Vilgax’s warship once it blitzed through the Kree blockade – but Abigail wouldn’t budge an inch. She considers it an essential precaution – it’s already bad enough that there are still thousands of active nuclear warheads all over the world over twenty years after the end of the Cold War; there’s no need to add this particular loaded gun into the mix.

Admiral Sanda seems to agree, to her credit. She examines the station’s schematics, and asks rather astute questions about its defensive capabilities – automated point defense turrets and manned gun emplacements meant for smaller spacecraft, complemented by a small but growing flight of Ares-class starfighters, the pilots for which are still in training planetside at the Garrison. They go over the station’s duty rosters, and the Admiral asks to be given a comprehensive report on the capabilities of the Kree soldiers who volunteered to stay at Excalibur under Hala’s command.

Hala is describing Kree weapons and armor when the call comes, marked IMMEDIATE – just below ‘Earth is about to be destroyed’ urgency. The bridge’s comms team puts the message on their holoprojector, and none other than Carol Danvers appears, looking no older than the first time Abigail met her.

“Captain Marvel.” –Abigail acknowledges, somewhat surprised – Carol spends most of her time away from Sol, and only really returns to her home planet to catch up with her family, never letting anyone know she’s coming and going. She’s about to introduce her to Admiral Sanda when the cosmic heroine cuts her off.

“No time to stand in ceremony, Abigail.” –Carol says. “You have a ship incoming, arriving sometime in the next fifteen to thirty minutes.”

Abigail nods, narrowing her eyes. She snaps her fingers twice, and the bridge crew immediately starts checking their deep space telemetry and implementing the appropriate procedures to ready the station for any potential combat. “Give me the details.”

“A little over an hour ago, there was a successful coup d’état in the Nova member planet Akiridion-V – completely blindsided both the Nova Corps and the ruling family, House Tarron. Nova Corpsmen planetside report that the Akiridion King and Queen were killed at the palace, but their two young children and a loyal commander were able to escape the Akiridion homeworld. The usurpers were unable to plot their warp vectors, so they aren’t in pursuit, but they managed to damage the spacecraft enough that you should expect a crash-landing.” –Carol reports.

Admiral Sanda frowns. “If the usurpers weren’t able to track them, how do you know they’re coming here?”

“The Nova Corps have partial control over their portion of the galaxy’s Warp Network.” –Abigail supplies. “They can’t open new Warp Nodes or close existing ones, but they can track most traffic and optimize warp vectors for the Nova fleet. Gives them a huge edge in space combat.”

“Look at you, sharing privileged government information all willy-nilly.” –Carol snorts, amused. “I approve.”

Abigail shrugs. “Like you said, no time to mess around.” –she drawls. “Can you get me access to those warp vectors?”

Carol nods, tapping a few times on her vambrace computer. “It’s done. Nova Prime can be mad at me all she wants – those kids need help, and they’re gonna get it while we can give it.”

Hala frowns. “Why would Nova Prime be enraged by your actions?”

“General Val Morando, the driving force behind the coup, has threatened to turn the might of the Akiridion fleets against the Nova Corps if any Nova officials bring aid to the fleeing Royals. Considering we’re gonna need those fleets, sooner or later, Nova Prime put out a general order for the Corps to stay out of this ‘internal matter’.” –Carol says, face full of disgust. “I’m not technically part of the Nova Corps, but I have enough pull with them that there isn’t really a difference – not in Irani Rael’s eyes, and certainly not in Morando’s. I can’t take him out, and I can’t protect the kids.” –she explains.

The navigation officer sends her the data, which projects the FTL path that the Akiridion spacecraft is taking, which will deliver them on their doorstep in less than twenty minutes. Abigail puts on a grim scowl; it’s not nearly enough time to set up a ‘welcoming party’ to take in the damaged craft safely, or even to intercept and rescue them with a boarding party – without a precise exit point, and detailed telemetry on their ship’s flight path out of warp, it’s much too risky an operation.

Ironically, the safest way for everyone involved to handle this situation is to just...let them crash-land in a safe location; their vessel is really just a very fancy escape pod, and according to its specs, it’s definitely rated to (relatively) comfortably survive the fall through Earth’s atmosphere and smack dab into its surface.

They just need to ensure they land in the right place.

“Scramble two fighters and send them to circle the predicted exit point.” –Abigail orders. “Make sure their tractor beams are primed.”

“Got a plan already?” –Carol asks, raising an eyebrow. “Tractor beams won’t be able to stop a ship going that fast.”

“No, they won’t.” –she acknowledges. “But they only need to slow it down. I’m sure you’ve heard that the Omnitrix was recently picked up by a human teen?”

Abigail notes that Admiral Sanda shifts uncomfortably beside her – probably one of a growing list of people who are, to put it mildly, not very happy that she’s allowed Ben to keep the Omnitrix for good. Carol snorts. “Yeah, Max told me. His grandkid, right? Small universe.”

“He’s good, Carol.” –Abigail reassures her. “Hard to imagine anyone else could wield it better. Other than Max, maybe.”

Carol hums. “If you say so.” –she says, skeptical. “Thinking of putting him on babysitting duty?”

Abigail snorts. “Let’s just say he has experience with interstellar bounty hunters and crazy alien warlords...”

Considering they’re fighting a mad scientist riding and controlling a huge, mutated lizard, Arcadia’s mall is holding up surprisingly well.

“Tremble before the mutated marvels of Doctor Aloysius J. Animo!” –the gray haired, oddly green-ish skinned old man yells, commanding his mount to smash a nearby display of the mall’s layout with its spiked tail.

“You really couldn’t think of a better place to take over than the mall?” –Diamondhead grumbles, the sound of shifting crystal filling the place as he squares up with the supervillain. “They’re already kinda dying out, y’know?”

The distraction is working – he glances at the shoe store behind Animo and spots Julie leading a couple of terrified workers to safety. “Indeed they are, my shape-shifting foe.” –Animo acknowledges. “This place is now a bounty of second-hand equipment and emptied out real estate! A perfect location to set up a base of operations from which my mutant minions may take over the world!”

The giant horned lizard – at least, that’s what Ben thinks it was before the mutation – pounces on him, so he shifts to XLR8 and easily sidesteps the attack and the tail swing that follows it. “You’re not real big on future-proofing your evil plans, huh?” –he asks, sarcastically. “Think you’ll have your death ray up and running before S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers get here?”

Animo shakes his head, seemingly disappointed. “Tsk, tsk. Nothing so crass as a death ray, child. No, I will build a powerful signal amplifier that will project my mutation wave across the entire globe! Picture, hordes of ants the size of St. Bernards marching on every nation’s capital! The shadow of a massive hawk passing over the countryside, evoking the mythical Roc! A four-hundred foot tall marine iguana, ravaging the Japanese shoreline!”

XLR8 becomes Four Arms. “You got something against Japan, Doc, or are you just trying to get sued by the Toho Company?” –he teases, grabbing a nearby stand – one of those aromatherapy ones no one ever stops by – and launching it at the giant lizard and its rider.

Animo jumps off his mount in time to avoid the hit, which sends the mutant lizard stumbling back. It hisses at him, and Animo’s weird, Loki-like headgear pulses green – a command, Ben thinks, for the beast to attack. The reptile nearly closes its eyes, and a pressurized stream of steaming, crimson fluid shoots at him from its tear ducts, which he barely manages to jump out of the way of.

With a green flash, he swaps back to Diamondhead. “Did you just have your mutant lizard shoot blood at me?” –he balks.

“A macabre projectile, is it not?” –Animo preens. “A horned lizard’s last line of defense – you’ll be happy to know, hero, that my mutation has safely turned this last-ditch effort into a main avenue of attack!”

The reptile blasts him again, so he shapes an angular crystal barrier that diverts the streams to either side of him. “I guess it’s cool, I just... this can’t be sanitary, right?” –Diamondhead shakes his head. He forms a series of sharpened tips from his fingers, and shoots them near Animo – not intending to kill him, of course, just trying to separate him from the ultimately innocent animal.

Animo dives out of the way, so he turns back into XLR8 and tackles him before he can fully get back up, sending the elderly man careening into a nearby pond. He feels a little bit bad about it – the good doctor looks no younger than sixty – but whatever turned his skin that sickly yellow-green must’ve given him some extra durability, because Animo recovers rather quickly and commands his lizard to pounce. Ben sheds the Kineceleran form and turns into Goop, morphing themself into a make-shift harness around the beast’s forelegs and torso, heedless of the deadly spines that cover most of its body, willing the small gravity engine that keeps them coherent to pull back and restrain the reptile.

Animo dusts himself off. “Fascinating...just how many alien forms do you carry within you, Tennyson?” –he muses, extending a sort of needle looking apparatus from his arm brace. “And would you be willing to part with a few?”

Goop succeeds in pulling the horned lizard onto its back, detaching part of their body to keep the monster immobilized, then swapping back to XLR8 and running behind the mad scientist in the blink of an eye. He becomes Diamondhead, shifting his hands to resemble LEGO ones and encircling Animo’s arms and torso, fusing the gap between the two and detaching the makeshift restraint device from his arms.

Diamondhead kicks him down to the ground as gently as he can manage, and prepares to pry the mutation device away from Animo when half a dozen local police officers burst into the scene, led by Detective Scott. “Arcadia police, everybody on the ground!” –he barks out.

“Officer.” –Diamondhead drawls, not at all concerned. Probably says something interesting about him that, barely a few weeks into having the Omnitrix, he’s already completely lost any fear or respect for guns and authority. “Caught the bad guy for you already.”

Detective Scott, raises an eyebrow, glancing down at the struggling scientist. “Nice job.” –he says, sarcastically, levelling the handgun at his chest. “Turn yourself in, and we’ll be able to hold everyone responsible for the damages to the mall accountable.”

The Petrosapien superhero crosses his arms. “Not really how this works, sir.” –he says, mildly amused.

“This ain’t New York, kid.” –the man warns. “We don’t have a bizarre mandate to tolerate vigilantes.”

“I take it you were ready and able to take down Doctor Animo all on your own, then?” –Diamondhead asks, sarcastically.

The detective huffs. “If we weren’t, that’s our problem to solve.” –he says.

“Sorry, officer. Not about to stand by while I’ve got these powers and you’ve got guys like this one to deal with.” –Diamondhead shrugs. He morphs into XLR8 with a flash, and collects every gun before any of the policemen can react, leaving the weapons all bound by a zip tie through the trigger and hanging just out of reach from a nearby light fixture. “Cut me some slack, alright? I just saved you guys a literal bloodbath.” –he says, gesturing at the still steaming pool of lizard blood.

Detective Scott stares at his forcibly emptied hands in disbelief and sighs. “Do you even realize how much paperwork you’ve just given us?” –he asks, shoulders slumping down. “Look – I get it kid, you’re trying to do a noble thing here, but...well, it’s still very illegal.”

“I think it worked out alright when we took Vilgax down – I’m sure we’ll figure day to day crime out.” –XLR8 says. The Kineceleran morph spots Julie hiding out overhead, on the roof of the mall, so he gives the officers a mock salute. “Same deal next crime?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, instead grabbing Animo and fleeing the scene, joining Julie atop the building. Julie stares at the bound supervillain. “You’re not leaving him with the cops?” –she wonders.

“Nah. They don’t have the facilities.” –XLR8 mutters.

“They also don’t have anywhere to keep a giant, mutated lizard.” –Julie points out.

He shrugs. “The mutation wears off if you’re not in range, right Animo?”

The mad scientist grumbles. “...my device does require proximity to sustain the transformation.” –he admits. “A design flaw I could’ve corrected...!”

“...if it weren’t for us meddling kids, right?” –XLR8 says. Animo doesn’t look like he appreciates the pop culture reference.

Julie hums. “Still, I feel bad about leaving the poor little guy behind.”

“I mean, unless we keep him as a pet...”

“Horned lizards do not make good pets, young man.” –Animo says, sternly. “They have very strict dietary requirements and do not thrive in captivity.”

XLR8 snorts. “See? Better to leave the poor guy alone, doctor’s orders. Plus, you already have Ship.”

The Mechamorph in question pops their semi-liquid head out of her artificial shoulder. “Thanks for the advice, old man.” –Julie says, sardonically.

The elderly man huffs. “I am nothing if not dedicated to my craft.”

“Considering your ‘craft’ also involves subjecting innocent animals to forcible mutations that render them into half-feral, dinosaur-sized monsters, you’re definitely still going to super-jail.” –Julie drawls.

Animo grumbles, struggling against his bonds. Ben morphs into Diamondhead, forming a thin blade from his index finger to carefully slice Animo’s machine off his body, but the Omnitrix beeps, interrupting him once again. He frowns – he doesn’t time out anymore, of course, thanks to Azmuth giving him Master Control – but the reason for the beeping soon reveals itself to be an incoming call from Abigail Brand, Director of S.W.O.R.D., her image projected from the watch’s faceplate.

“Sorry to cut into your office hours, Ben.” –she says, raising an eyebrow as she glances at the beaten supervillain. “But we’ve got a situation that needs your attention.”

Ben sheds the Petrosapien form, back to human. He crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t even know this thing doubled as a phone.” –he admits, shaking the Omnitrix a bit to see if the Director’s image shifts at all. It doesn’t. “What’s up?”

“There’s an Akiridion starship entering the atmosphere as we speak. It’ll land in the southern outskirts of Arcadia; you have approximately three minutes to make sure it doesn’t kill anyone.”

“More of your secret alien fellows, Benjamin? I’ll be sure to add their gene sequences to my collection...when I break out of these infernal bonds!” –Animo rants, struggling to free himself.

Ben snorts. “It’s almost sweet of you to assume I’ll save them no matter what, for you to be able to steal their DNA.” –he says, sarcastically. Ben turns to Abigail. “Shoot me the location.”

Julie jogs up to him. “She already sent it to me.” –his girlfriend pipes up, projecting a holographic map of the region from the back of her cybernetic hand.

“Tell Gwen and Kevin to meet us there.” –Ben asks her, then turns back to S.W.O.R.D.’s leader. “Who are these guys? More bounty hunters?”

“Refugees, actually. Survivors of a coup that got their parents killed.” –Abigail clarifies, uncharacteristically somber. “So, y’know...exercise caution, and all that. We’ll be along shortly to help however we can, but you get first contact.”

The call ends and her image vanishes, just as Animo makes the play he’s apparently been planning to make while they talked; he blasts the transformation beam from his helmet antennae, and hits a passing grackle that swiftly becomes a pterodactyl-sized abomination, obediently sweeping in and grabbing the mad scientist. Animo cackles as he speeds away, carried by the avian monster’s talons. “‘Same deal next crime’ indeed, Tennyson!” –he jeers.

Ben’s pretty sure Animo doesn’t realize his clever wordplay literally means he’d get beaten again. If he’s to join his rogues’ gallery, Animo’s at least an entertaining villain, he supposes.

He rolls his eyes, popping the dial on the Omnitrix – he doesn’t need to anymore, but he finds the action reassuring, in some way. He finds his desired transformation, and slams down his hand on the glowing faceplate, feeling the watch’s limitless energy flow through him and transform him into the Kryptonian form he obtained during the Vilgax crisis.

“Power Girl!” –she shouts, striking a pose.

Julie tilts her head. “Interesting pick. Are you gonna chase him down?”

Power Girl shrugs. “I could, but...Animo’s pretty harmless. Besides...” –she says, nodding at the sky, where a light that decidedly does not belong in the morning sky is steadily growing larger and brighter. “...think our guests are already here.”

Chapter Text

A very, very small part of Aja regrets never plugging into her Astronautics classes.

In her defense, Krel has always been the tech expert; while he shirked his own duties in learning how to wield a Serrator beyond the very basics, he consumed everything there was to learn about the technology that marks the Akiridion Empire as second only to Xandar itself in terms of advancement within the Nova territories. Krel knows how to build and fix things, and Aja knows how to break them – and in so doing, they cover for each other’s shortcomings as heirs to the throne, as they always have.

Still, she’d appreciate knowing what the hell is going on, as they all but tumble out of Warp Space, the Mothership lurching from the damage sustained during their harrowing escape.

“Mother, where are we?” –Krel demands, trying to make sense of the barrage of telemetry data thrown his way.

“Our semi-randomized warp path has delivered us on the southern edge of Kree Imperial territory. We are in the Sol system, locked in an unstable approach to Kree-designated planet C-53, homeworld of the Human race.” –the AI informs them.

Krel scoffs, crossing his lower arms as he attempts to stabilize their flight path. “Terra? Could we have possibly found a more primitive settled planet? Its inhabitants named it after dirt.”

The viewport on the bridge displays their forcible destination, growing larger as they hurtle towards it; it’s a relatively small rocky world, covered in water and vegetation, roiling white clouds spreading all over the surface of the planet. Aja finds it oddly...beautiful, and from her understanding, so do many others out in the galaxy – even if its inhabitants have only just learned how to split the atom, their home planet is known to be among the more aesthetically pleasing homeworlds, and it’s noted by many xeno-biologists and geologists as having one of the most wildly diverse biospheres and environments in the known galaxy. Sol as a system, too, is something of an outlier; the average star system in the galaxy has only two or three planets, while Sol has nine, plus two asteroid belts, and several sizable planetoids spread throughout.

“I thought the whole Sol system was a Kree Exclusion Zone.” –Aja finds herself saying. “How come we aren’t getting shot by the local Accuser’s fleet?”

“The previously existing Exclusion Zone appears to have been recently dismantled, Princess. I detect no significant Kree military presence – the Kree Empire seems to hold no current claim over this planet or star system.”

Varvatos narrows all four of his eyes. “What of the Nova Corps? Varvatos Vex would relish the chance to punish the bucket-heads for their abdication of duty to stop Morando’s coup!”

“Negative. I detect no Nova presence in the system. There is only one extant claim on Terra made by the Great Diamond Authority, but it appears to have been inactive for nearly five-thousand keltons. The Kree obviously considered the planet to have been relinquished, in order to have set up an Exclusion Zone in the first place.”

Aja purses her lips at the mention of Gems, turning to her younger sibling. “Do you think this is our best bet, little brother?”

“More like our only bet. It’s not like Homeworld, or the Kree for that matter, to give up a planet...” –Krel mutters. “...but we’ll have to risk it, oxygen-plagued atmosphere and all. The Mothership has sustained far too much damage; we won’t even be able to limp to this world’s satellite.”

“Frankly, King-in-Waiting, we should count ourselves lucky to survive a crash-landing upon Terra’s surface.” –Mother corrects. “This planet’s atmospheric density will almost certainly cause further damage to our propulsion and maneuvering systems.”

“But the Mothership’s practically built to survive crash-landings, no?” –Aja wonders.

“Controlled ones, yes.” –Krel says. “If we are unable to decelerate past the atmospheric burn...I don’t like our odds.”

“Intercept vectors detected.” –the AI announces, as Terra completely fills the viewscreen. “Two starfighter class vessels inbound. No match on record.”

Krel brings up the image, showing two vaguely avian-shaped vessels speeding towards them. To Aja, they look kinda bulky and awkward, compared to the sleek V-Stryker-class she’s used to. “Terran fighters? I didn’t think they’d even broken atmosphere yet.” –Krel huffs.

“Information on recent Terran developments is limited. Any sufficiently comprehensive data is several dozen keltons out of date.” –Mother supplies. “The presumed Terran vessels are attempting to hail us.”

“Should we even talk to them?” –Aja questions. “What if they betray us to Morando?”

“Regardless of whether or not we should, we can’t.” –Krel says, sarcastically. “Our comms array was rendered offline during the escape.”

Aja frowns. “Then how do we even know they’re trying to talk to us if the communications are down?”

Krel sighs, long-suffering. “By ‘comms are down’, I meant ‘while signal reception is online, our decodification and transmission equipment has been too damaged to operate’, sister. We can hear them, but we can’t understand or respond to their messages.”

The technological savant turns to the control banks. “Mother, is there any indication of hostile intent?”

“Negative. The vessels’ energy levels are spiking, but the yield is too low to harm standard starship armor plating, let alone Akiridion hull alloys.” –she says, almost haughty. “However, I am detecting gravitational anomalies.”

“Tractor beams?” –Krel asks no one, shaking his head in surprise. “Consider me a tiny bit impressed, Terrans.”

The constant rocking of their flight, caused by misfiring maneuvering thrusters, is somewhat lessened as the gravitational fields envelop the Mothership and the starfighters attempt to stabilize their erratic path; Aja wishes to take this as a sign that the Terrans’ intentions are benevolent, but a part of her points out that they might just be trying to capture them. She groans. “Can we really not communicate with them?”

“Not unless Varvatos gets out and holds a sign over his head in…whatever passes for Terran Common.” –Krel shrugs. “I doubt they know GCL.”

“Varvatos Vex fears no vacuum!”

“You’re an inorganic, silicon-based lifeform, it wouldn’t make sense if you did.” –Krel says, deadpan. “The atmospheric burn, on the other hand, you would most definitely not survive. Speaking of which...”

The Mothership jolts, as it begins to make contact with the outermost layers of Terra’s atmosphere. Krel falls silent, all four of his hands a blur as he frantically attempts to keep the starship together. The readout on their trajectory is clear; their course is too perpendicular, more of a fall than a controlled descent, only slightly helped by the Terran vessels attempting to reduce their speed via surprisingly robust tractor beams. It doesn’t help that the Mothership isn’t really meant to fly in-atmosphere for any extended periods of time, having to rely on damaged maneuvering thrusters and a struggling anti-gravity engine to compensate for its terrible aerodynamics.

Terra’s atmosphere thickens, rattling the ship and enveloping them in blazing heat. Luug jumps into her arms, fearful, and she braces against Varvatos’ massive torso. She tries to force herself to think about anything other than her potentially impending doom – how interesting she finds the fact that Terra only has the one moon, compared to her homeworld’s nine, for example, or the mystery of how human hybrids spread so far and wide when, by all accounts, only a handful of Terrans have ever left the Sol system, all of them in recent memory.

“Terran vessels breaking off.” –Mother says, and almost immediately, the fall gets thrice as turbulent.

“They’d probably break apart if they continued.” –Krel begrudgingly acknowledges. “Really didn’t do enough, however!”

A powerful explosion rocks the Mothership, and the power on the bridge briefly flickers. “Daxial Array offline. Switching to secondary fusion reactor.”

Krel looks back at her, fear in his eyes; the fusion reactor should be able to generate enough power to sustain the maneuvering thrusters, but it’ll take time to spin up – and judging by Krel’s expression, it won’t be able to slow them down in time for the crash. Death may not be a certainty, but it’s certainly a possibility now, and so she grabs her sibling’s hand, and holds on tight to Varvatos, bracing for the inevitable impact.

It comes moments later, and much more swiftly than anticipated, as they crash into a flying Terran.

Compared to holding up half of the Chimeran Hammer’s weight, this Akiridion Mothership barely registers.

Well, not entirely true, of course. The weight is definitely noticeable, though impossible for her to calculate without a good frame of reference. Power Girl spreads her arms and legs over the smooth, white metal as much as possible so she doesn’t just punch through the hull, willing her intrinsic leverage against the mighty force of the falling spacecraft.

“The trajectory’s looking good.” –Julie says, over the little black and green earbud she provided her. “Maybe five degrees further north?”

“I don’t know what a degree means in this context, Jules!” –Power Girl yells, over the howling winds.

“Just push a little bit more to the right, it’s fine.”

“Your right or my right!?”

“Yours, definitely. I think.”

Power Girl does her best to follow suit, grunting with effort as she struggles for purchase against the smooth, curved hull, pushing the ship as Julie instructed. It seems to be going well, which is exactly why it’s entirely unsurprising when she’s suddenly crushed against a handful of trees and then the ground itself, buried under a couple thousand tons of alien metal.

It smarts, admittedly. It can’t compare with the sheer, muscle-tearing pain of lifting the Chimeran Hammer, but it does noticeably hurt – kinda like falling straight on your back, the wind knocked out of you. She takes a moment to adjust to the complete darkness and claustrophobia-inducing feeling of being completely surrounded by hot dirt, braces herself against the packed soil, and lifts.

“I can’t believe we’ve been on Terra for all of two mekrons and we already killed someone!” –Aja laments.

“Agreed! We could’ve killed more had the strange, flying Terran female not curbed our path from that small residential area!” –Varvatos shakes his head in disappointment. “Varvatos would’ve preferred a stronger first impression!”

Krel narrows his eyes. “I worry about you sometimes, Varvatos.” –he says, deadpan. “Well, we’ll have plenty of time to mourn that Terran. I’m afraid the Mothership will not be moving for the foreseeable future.”

The King-in-Waiting is immediately contradicted, as the vessel suddenly shifts, almost sending them tumbling to the floor of the bridge. “Mother, what was that?” –Krel wonders, scanning the fizzling readout for misfiring thrusters or some sort of muted explosion below deck.

“It would seem the Terran female survived the crash. They appear to be lifting the ship.”

“Seklos and Gaylen...” –Varvatos balks, as they tilt slightly before dropping again, the aforementioned female floating up to their viewfinder and knocking on the transparent material.

“Anybody home?” –the Terran asks. Aja can’t understand the language, but they don’t even sound frazzled by the ordeal, even nonchalantly brushing the soil out of their short brown hair. They look like a human, but the last thing Aja knew, humans couldn’t levitate or fly unaided, much less survive being crushed underneath thousands of tons of Akiridion machinery and subsequently lift it overhead.

Their pale, ever so slightly rosy skin looks just as frail as ever, but they’re completely unharmed, and clad in an outfit that might make a Krylorian raise an eyebrow – a one-piece black and white jumpsuit that covers their hips, torso, and arms, leaving their legs, and a rather conspicuous area of their ample chest, which a great many species (not just mammalian ones, either) are typically drawn to strangely uncovered.

That’s not the most interesting thing about their attire, though; it’s the ancient Galvan symbol emblazoned on their left shoulder, which Aja only recognizes because she’s obsessively studied many of the most powerful weapons in the history of the galaxy, a couple of which the long extinct Galvan were responsible for creating. It’s a very rare sight these days, even though they left such a huge legacy with the creation of the Warp Network alone – the only places you’ll see it these days are amidst the ruins of Galvan Prime, and on the uniform of those Nova Spec-Ops troopers that fell into obscurity before she was born.

“Be on your guard, my Royals.” –Varvatos warns, pawing at his dual Serrator. “This Terran is clearly not quite as squishy as the rest of their kind.”

“I can see you guys are alive, so I’ll just, uh...wait out here.” –the Terran says, floating away and landing a fair distance from the ship, crossing their arms.

Krel turns to his slightly flickering monitors. “Mother, what is the Terran saying?”

“Apologies, King-in-Waiting; the Terran’s language has not been downloaded to my databanks, and we have no connection to the Galvan Translation Matrix.”

Her brother huffs. “What a surprise.” –he drawls. “How are the levels on Mama and Papa’s regeneration pods?”

Mother displays a hologram with the requested data. “Levels are low, but holding steady. Warning: it is not recommended to utilize this regeneration rate for an extended period of time. The King and Queen’s bodies may not develop properly without the power levels provided by the ship’s defunct Daxial Array.”

“Do we not have enough parts to repair or replace it?” –she asks.

“We should’ve, but the ship was slated for a retrofit that was never completed.” –Krel explains. “Considering Morando gave the order, I have to assume this was part of his plan.”

Vex frowns. “Are you certain he was not able to track us?”

Krel nods. “I set Mother to check for tracker signals every five mekrons, and I trust that the Nova Corps would not share the tracking data from our jumps.” –he says.

“So we’re stuck on Terra with little power and no way to communicate with any potential allies off-world.” –Aja surmises. “I think we should figure out if we can ask the strangely indestructible flying Terran for help.”

“Varvatos would caution you against this, Princess.” –the old soldier says. “This planet may be a backwater, but we should assume that Morando will eventually discover our location, and that he’ll attempt to convince the locals to capture us, or otherwise hold us in place for him to mobilize and destroy us.”

“Hold us in place? We already can’t move, Varvatos.” –Krel reminds him. “And this world is at least a couple of tech levels below what we’d need to repair the Mothership, so the chances our situation can change are low, at best.”

“So what would you suggest?” –Aja asks.

Krel scowls. “Don’t ask me. I’m far too busy trying to figure out how in Gaylen’s rotten core we’re gonna fix an ionic energy FTL propulsion device with nuclear-era technology to even think about the rest of our predicament, sister.” –he grouses. “I’ll leave that decision in your capable hands.”

“You’re no help, little brother.” –Aja says, deadpan. The Princess turns to look at their guardian. “And you, Varvatos? What might you suggest?”

“Bloodshed.” –he retorts, rather characteristically. Aja rolls her eyes, but as it turns out, he’s all too serious. “Eliminate all witnesses to our arrival on Terra, camouflage the Mothership, and covertly search for a way to repair our vessel.”

Aja blinks. “Varvatos, even if your plan didn’t immediately break all sorts of galactic conventions, I think Akiridions would stand out just a bit among the humans of Terra. Wonderfully varied as their dermal tones are, I don’t think they quite reach our shade of blue.”

“The Mothership is equipped with a transduction chamber.” –Varvatos says. “We should be able to adopt sufficiently inconspicuous forms.”

“Not with our current energy levels, we can’t.” –Krel counters.

“This is not entirely true, Prince Krel. You could not maintain a long-term transformation, but temporary forms with a duration of approximately ten to twelve horvaths are achievable.”

Krel shakes his head. “Too risky. Our parents’ chambers are too sensitive to even minor fluctuations in the energy supply.”

Aja sighs. “All I’m hearing is that my plan is still our best option. Given our King-in-Waiting has so magnanimously conceded his decision power to me, ” –she says, sardonic, to Krel’s multiple rude hand gestures, “I will make contact with the Terran. Varvatos, you may accompany me, but do not attack unless I tell you to, or the Terran’s intentions prove unequivocally hostile.”

The Akiridions take...quite a while to get out of their clearly damaged ship. She’d be concerned, but she can hear them inside – their speech is too muffled to parse, even though she’s pretty sure the Omnitrix is automatically translating for her, but from their tone, she’d guess that they’re deciding whether or not to trust her.

Understandable, she thinks, considering what she knows of what they’ve just been through.

Nevertheless, their hesitation gives Julie, Kevin, and Gwen time to arrive at the crash site, some twelve miles northeast of downtown Arcadia. Kevin didn’t bring his car, oddly enough, but rather the Rust Bucket, freshly repaired from the minor damages sustained during the Vilgax crisis.

“Nice job getting squished, Tennyson.” –Kevin says, sarcastic.

“You okay?” –Gwen asks.

She nods. “Just fine. Still some dirt in my hair, though.” –she complains, trying to brush more of it out with her fingers.

“You’re still Power Girl?” –Julie asks, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugs. “I don’t wanna freak ‘em out.” –she says. “They saw – and crashed into – Power Girl, so they’ll probably expect Power Girl.”

“You sure you’re not just enjoying an extended romp in the skin-tight leotard with the boob window?” –Julie teases her.

Power Girl blushes, despite herself. “Quiet, you.”

“Heads up.” –Kevin warns. “Think they’re coming out.”

Indeed, the innards of the large vessel shift and rumble, and a circular door struggles to open. Two lifeforms cautiously climb out of the askew starship; both of them are more or less humanoid, with recognizable heads, torsos, arms, and legs, but there’s a great many features distinguishing them from baseline human beings. The one at the front is huge, easily over ten feet tall, with a musclebound girth to match; they have four eyes, arranged in pairs at either side of a wide, flat ridge that could only charitably be called a nose. The creature’s rather top heavy, almost gorilla-like in their proportions, with massive arms ending in three-fingered hands dwarfing their comparatively small legs and feet. They wear a sort of semi-transparent, plastic-looking armor – it reminds her of those transparent PlayStation controllers – protecting their torso and arms over a sort of skin-tight dark blue jumpsuit, decorated with glowing blue lines and symbols. They don’t seem to have any hair, their head instead bearing some kind of protective garment, like an open-faced helm, made of the same material as the chest armor.

The second figure is much smaller than the first, bearing an athletic, vaguely feminine profile, some seven and a half feet tall. Their skin and hair are cyan – their hair in particular seems to actively glow – and they wear a similar jumpsuit to the big guy’s, albeit with some lighter shades of blue for the bottom section and no armor to speak of, revealing an interesting feature at the top of their sternum: a sort of small, transparent ‘window’ into the inside of their chest, a crystalline object vaguely visible inside. Unlike the big guy, this individual only has two eyes – though they both look exactly the same, with glowing blue irises and black sclera – but they have four arms where the big guy only has the two. The second pair sprouts from their sides, just a couple inches below their ‘regular’ arms.

“Watch.” –she calls. The Omnitrix has no voice, but she knows it’s listening. “Make sure we can all understand each other.”

The Omnitrix’s badge on her shoulder pulses twice in acknowledgement. “Hello.” –she begins. “My name is Ben Tennyson, and these are my friends and partner.” –she says, gesturing at the others. “We’d like to welcome you to Earth.”

The smaller one steps forward. “Hello, Ben Tennyson.” –they say, uncertain, their voice heavily accented – it sounds vaguely Eastern European, though it’s hard to pinpoint exactly from where in that region. “I am Princess Aja of House Tarron, daughter of King Fialkov and Queen Coranda, rightful heir to the Akiridion throne.” –she says, proud but notably hollow.

Aja gestures at the massive individual beside her. “And this is Varvatos Vex, loyal servant of the Throne, and Commander of the Taylon Phalanx.”

“And fearless protector of the Royal heirs!” –he adds, all but snarling, almost daring them to attack. “Attempt any harm upon the young Royals, and Varvatos will fertilize the soil you’ve named your world after with your blood!”

“Dude, chill.” –Kevin drawls. “Two sentences in, and you’re already threatening to kill us? Not cool.”

“Indeed! As I understand it, freshly spilled human entrails are fairly warm!”

Aja quickly steps in, motioning for her companion to calm down with her two right arms. “Commander Vex may speak hyperbole, but I won’t; my little brother and I just lost everything less than two horvaths ago. Our Mothership is in desperate need of repairs, and we have to assume it’s only a matter of time before General Morando sends bounty hunters, or worse, to finish what he started on our homeworld.” –she admits. “If you would help us survive, your aid would be most welcome; but should you intend us harm...”

The Akiridions take some devices from their hips and ignite them, producing sizable curved blades of what appears to be glowing blue hard light. “...you will find us most capable of delivering on Varvatos’ colorful threats.”

Julie and Gwen glance at each other, concerned, while Kevin balls his fists, clearly not taking the threat well. “No need for any of that.” –Power Girl quickly says, stepping between the two groups. “We mean you no harm; in fact, we’ve been asked to help you lay low on our planet.”

“By whom?” –Aja asks.

“A defense organization known as S.W.O.R.D. They’re the ones who helped you guys slow down.”

Aja lowers the sword a bit. “Your world doesn’t belong to the Nova or Kree; what do your people stand to gain from helping us?”

Power Girl shrugs. “I don’t think that’s how it works. You guys need help, and we can give it; as far as I’m concerned, that’s as complex as this gets.”

All of a sudden, a third Akiridion, so similar to Aja that they must be related, pops their head out of the ship. “Sister, Varvatos, scan them! These Terrans are not what they seem!”

Varvatos suddenly puts a hand to the side of his head. A holographic visor appears over his eyes. “As Varvatos expected!” –he says triumphantly, after a scan, turning to Aja, who merely looks uncertainly between them. “My Royal, these interlopers are not as they seem; only one of them is even human, and she’s been grafted with Kree cybernetics! They must be bounty hunters, on Morando’s payroll!”

Aja grimaces. “Already!? How in Seklos’ name did they track us?”

“The Nova Corps must have betrayed us!” –Varvatos surmises. “First their criminal inaction, and now they share our location with the enemy! Varvatos will crumple the next golden bucket he sees – with the head still inside!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” –Power Girl holds her hands up. “I know it seems weird, but I promise there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Gwen’s just a very precocious Anodite, Kevin is a genetically modified human, and Julie was gifted the gear by Hala the Accuser after she was hurt by a bounty hunter.” –she says, pointing at each of them. “As for me, I am human, just…not all the time.”

She taps the Omnitrix’s faceplate, and reverts to Ben with a red flash. “See? Regular ol’ Ben Tennyson, no threat to anyone.” –he says, trying to appear as harmless as possible.

Unfortunately, this seems to have the opposite effect, evidenced as Varvatos assumes a defensive stance and Aja’s eyes widen. “It can’t be…you wield the Omnitrix?” –she gasps.

“Morando’s allies are powerful indeed.” –Vex says, gravely. “But Varvatos Vex will protect you, till glorious death!”

The massive alien charges forward with a war cry; with a flash, Diamondhead stands his ground, blocking the massive energy blade by crossing his arms in front of him. Tall as the Petrosapien form is, Varvatos still looms over him – almost reminiscent of facing down Vilgax, though the Akiridion is still a few feet short of his now-imprisoned nemesis, and from this improvised blade lock, not really in the same ballpark in terms of brute strength.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” –Diamondhead says, forming spikes on the bottom of his feet, and using the added traction to push off the violent Commander. “There’s no need for us to fight.”

Varvatos isn’t exactly in a listening mood, though; he roars, morphing the huge blade into an equally large spear, which he immediately thrusts towards his chest. With a flash, XLR8 sidesteps the blow, and with another, Four Arms grabs the shaft of the spear with his left hands and pushes Varvatos with his right palms, separating him from his weapon.

It’s a simple victory, but a short-lived one; bolts of searing heat pelt him, shot by Aja’s sibling from their vantage point. He grunts in pain, before a wall of violet light blocks any more from reaching him. Gwen’s eyes glow violet, even through the glamour provided by the charm around her neck. “This is going about as well as usual.” –she notes, sarcastic. “What’s our next move, cuz?”

Kevin reaches for the Rust Bucket’s hood, turning beige and metal. “I say we subdue ‘em. Let S.W.O.R.D. figure out what to do with them after.”

The group gets surprised by Varvatos, wrathfully punching Gwen’s protective barrier. “Better decide fast, Ben.” –Gwen says, deadpan.

Four Arms nods, and hands the circular Akiridion device to Julie. “Drop the shield on my go.” –he says, and takes a defensive stance. “You get your wish, Vex.” –he jeers. “I’m going to fight you, all by myself – and I’m going to beat you.”

“Varvatos Vex welcomes the challenge, Terran!”

“Maybe when I’m done and he’s still breathing, ” –he says, ignoring the man and turning to Aja. “You’ll see we really mean what we’re saying, Princess.”

He gives Gwen a thumbs-up, and the trio backs off, the mana wall suddenly vanishing. Red and blue clash in the middle, near-animalistic growling taking the place of civilized discussion. Four Arms punches at Vex’s sides with his free arms, drawing grunts of pain from the seasoned Commander; it’s that experience that momentarily provides him with the upper-hand, though, as he stops resisting and lets himself fall onto his back, using the momentum to throw Four Arms off. Ben thinks quickly, though, shifting to Big Chill in mid-air and phasing into the ground they would’ve slammed against, emerging from the soil and blasting a stream of cold air from their mouth – exactly at no one, as it turns out. Varvatos grabs him from behind and slams him onto the soil anyway, drawing a grunt of pain from the Necrofriggian.

A flash of emerald light later, Goop now engulfs Varvatos’s forearm, quickly climbing up to his torso to immobilize him, but the Akiridion is quicker on the draw, reaching for the gravity engine and crushing it between his oversized fingers. Goop loses cohesion, but not its concentration; a moment passes and Heatblast lies on the ground, letting out a small flare that forces Vex to retreat, diving away from the deadly heat. “Had enough?” –the Pyronite asks.

“I said glorious death!” –the Akiridion roars, defiant.

Power Girl replaces Heatblast. “Yeah, well. Find someone else willing to provide.”

The Kryptonian surges forward, faster than Varvatos can react, and pins him down to the ground with just one hand, kicking dirt and rocks up into the air. Varvatos struggles, kicking and punching at her, but she doesn’t budge an inch, completely unfazed by his blows.

“Enough, both of you!” –Aja says, the tip of her blade held between her and Varvatos. “We have enough enemies in the cosmos, Varvatos. We can’t afford to make new ones – particularly not if one of them wields one of the most powerful weapons in the galaxy.”

“But Princess…!”

“A Royal commands you, Varvatos.” –she barks, tone broaching no argument. “Commander Vex, as heir to the Akiridion throne, I order you to cease all hostilities with the human and his entourage.” –she orders, and turns to Ben, looking more tired than any vaguely teenaged alien girl ought to. “As for you…please release my friend. I…don’t have many left.”

Power Girl nods, releasing her hold on Varvatos’ chest piece, slightly cracked under her palm. Ben stands beside Aja; if Power Girl was a foot or so shorter than the Princess, he’s now dwarfed by the Akiridion heir. He holds out his hand. “Truce?”

Aja stares at the offered gesture in confusion. “Oh, right, culture barrier. It’s a handshake, just a trust kinda thing on Earth.”

“Oh! I’m already aware, human. Your Captain Marvel taught us the meaning.” –she shrugs. “I’m just…not sure which of my hands I’m supposed to use.”

Ben decides for her, reaching for her lower right hand – it’s the one he can most comfortably reach, after all. He feels like slapping his face instantly, though, as the Omnitrix’s faceplate turns a familiar yellow and starts spinning in place. “Ah, dang it, not again…”

Chapter Text

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO CALL THIS ONE!” –the newly created transformation bellows, striking a pose.

Aja and Varvatos step back, balking at Ben’s new form; physically, she’s largely identical to Aja – same height, same proportions, same doubled up arms – but the Omnitrix badge has replaced the little semi-transparent window she has on her upper chest, her hair is shorter and slightly curled at the tips, and the lightly armored jumpsuit she wears is black and white with glowing green trimmings, as opposed to Aja’s various shades of blue. Their irises, too, are slightly green-tinted, a bright turquoise on solid black instead of the regular neon blue – perhaps the closest to green that Akiridion eyes can possibly get.

Kevin snorts. “No name, seriously? You’ve been on top of all the others, Tennyson.”

Ben’s Royal Akiridion form frowns. “Well, I thought about calling her ‘Lionize’, but I figured that was a little too fancy for a superhero name.” –she says. She sounds almost the exact same as Aja, though her strange accent is a smidge less pronounced.

“Lionize, really?” –he asks, raising an eyebrow.

The unnamed alien pouts, clenching a fist and making it glow. “I mean, I’m pretty sure this one has ionization powers…and ‘lionize’ means treating someone like a celebrity, right? I got the sample from an actual princess, so I thought it was appropriate.” –she explains. “But y’know, I’ll admit it’s not as cool as ‘Heatblast’ or ‘XLR8’.”

“I get it, dude.” –Kevin drawls. “I just didn’t think you even had ‘lionize’ in your vocabulary.”

“I probably wouldn’t if my mother wasn’t a politician.” –she admits. “Anyway, I guess being good at naming aliens doesn’t carry across universes. That’s a bummer.”

Gwen’s eyebrow rises. “Wait, what do you mean? Don’t you name your aliens?”

Akiridion-Ben shrugs. “They kinda come pre-named – I just know what to call myself when I transform. Azmuth thinks that’s what the so-called Ben Prime named them, and so far I’ve liked them, so I’ve just gone with it. The only ones I’ve named all by myself are Power Girl and Lionize, because I guess the Codon Stream didn’t have Kryptonians or Akiridions already – though apparently, ‘Lionize’ doesn’t work for some people.” –she says, staring pointedly at Kevin.

Julie smirks. “We can workshop it later, Ben.” –she says, seemingly agreeing with Kevin. “Let’s focus on our new, uh…friends.”

“Right.” –not-Lionize says, shedding the accidental transformation. “Diplomacy.”

“Why did you do that!?” –Aja demands, once the shock wears off. “You copied my body like some kind of-of-of…flashy Lenopan!”

Ben winces. “I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t mean to. Your hand made contact with the Omnitrix and that automatically activated its Scan Mode because it apparently didn’t have your species in its databanks. It’s only happened once before, so I didn’t really think to warn you.” –he explains. “To be fair, though, I would’ve expected Akiridions to be in there already – from the data Director Brand sent us, you guys aren’t exactly newcomers to galactic society.”

“Akiridions don’t leave their home system much.” –Kevin supplies. “And their artificial bodies are new. Well, new-ish – a lot more recent than the Omnitrix’s creation, that’s for sure.”

Aja shakes her head, taking a hand to her face. “It’s fine, Ben Tennyson. Just…do not do anything like that again without warning me, okay? One sibling is more than enough.”

Said sibling finally joins the group. “Seklos and Gaylen, Varvatos! I can’t believe you fought an Omnitrix wielder and survived!” –he says, equal parts excited and terrified, then turns to the others. “Oh, yes, uh…sorry for accusing you of being bounty hunters, Terrans. I should’ve known it was a mathematical impossibility that any mercenaries could’ve beat us here, considering how much of a backwater this mudball is.”

“It’s alright, no harm done.” –Ben says, though he makes a funny face at the prince’s underhanded insult. “I know you guys just escaped a horrible situation, and we only wanna make sure you’re safe here on Earth.”

“Varvatos Vex very much doubts that you would do this out of the kindness of your heart.” –he says, then sighs. “But he recognizes that the Royals are starved for choice with the Mothership grounded. Your assistance will be most reluctantly accepted.”

The unmistakable buzz of Quinjet rotors is heard over the treeline, and soon enough, a S.W.O.R.D. delegation arrives at the crash site; Ben kind of expected the whole dang cavalry, but only two Quinjets have come, painted white with red and gold outlines to differentiate them from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s gunmetal gray ones. The aircraft are also equipped with an extra pair of advanced rocket boosters in order to fly to and from Excalibur, he assumes.

Director Brand steps out from her Quinjet, flanked by half a dozen troopers in S.W.O.R.D. colors wielding some kind of advanced rifle. She limps towards them, her sharp gaze examining their new guests. “I am Abigail Brand, Director of the Sentient/World Observation and Response Division – S.W.O.R.D. for short – an international organization dedicated to human research and exploration of the cosmos, as well as the establishment and upkeep of diplomatic, cultural, and military relations with the various powers and entities of the Milky Way galaxy.”

She nods at them. “Princess Aja, Prince Krel, Commander Vex – welcome to Earth.” –she says, plainly. “We’ve been briefed on your situation, and we’re committed to safeguarding you to the best of our ability.”

“Thank you.” –Aja says, taking both right hands to her chest and bowing her head. “You do your world and species credit, Abigail Brand. I promise you the people of Akiridion-V will remember the kindness of Terrans so long as House Tarron sits on the throne.”

“If we ever sit on the throne again.” –Krel interjects, glum. “I don’t mean to rush this little ceremony, but Morando won’t stand idly after our escape.”

“You’re right, he won’t. In fact, he didn’t.” –Abigail agrees. “General Morando has put out a bounty on all your heads – your temporarily deceased parents included. I’m told it’s the highest on record: nine billion Akiridion crestons, or about eleven billion units.” –she says. “We don’t have a set conversion rate for our own human currencies yet, but from the talks we’ve had with the Nova Empire’s representatives, I’m pretty sure that’s almost 1.5 trillion bucks. You could buy Canada for that kind of money.”

Varvatos cackles. “Your economy must be in shambles!”

“Well they do only have the one planet.” –Krel shrugs. “That’s not too bad…for a mudball.”

“Yes, well. The mudball will be your home for the foreseeable future, I’m afraid.” –Abigail smirks, a hard edge to her gaze. “I’m no expert, but even I can tell your vessel has suffered significant damage, and primitive as this world is, you won’t be able to fix everything.”

Krel grumbles. “What do you suggest, Abigail Brand, Director of S.W.O.R.D.?” –Aja asks.

“Jokes aside, we’re no strangers to settling extraterrestrials on Earth. Though none of them have ever been quite as high profile as you, we’ve managed to safeguard all manner of refugees – even political targets, like you’ve unfortunately become.” –she says. “You’ve brought a home with you, so we can figure out a living situation as soon as possible, and set up a security network for the duration of your stay.”

“You’re gonna make them use their busted-ass ship as a house?” –Kevin frowns.

“From what I’ve been told, the Mothership was designed with that exact purpose in mind – to serve as a secure housing unit for Akiridion royalty whenever their business took them away from the homeworld.” –Abigail explains.

“As influential as we are within the Nova Empire, we have no shortage of enemies.” –Aja admits. “We are only truly safe in Akiridion-V – or we were, at least.”

“Isn’t it gonna stick out like a sore thumb? Arcadia’s aesthetic is kinda stuck between the 50s and 70s, not the 3000s.” –Julie sarcastically points out.

“Please, Terran. Concealing the Mothership from whatever sensory organs or technologies your species has managed to cobble together will be child’s play before Akiridion Hard Light technology.” –Krel shrugs.

“It’s settled, then.” –Abigail says, turning to Ben. “We’ll need your assistance to transport the Mothership. I already have a location in mind.”

He nods. “I’m guessing you’ll need us for this ‘security network’ you mentioned, too.”

Abigail sighs. “Unfortunately, yes. Though it means we’re now free from Kree control, Vilgax destroying the Accuser’s blockade and the Sol system subsequently losing its status as an Exclusion Zone leaves us in a vulnerable position until we can secure Nova military support, and that won’t happen for a while yet.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll pick up the slack.” –Ben shrugs. “I think the Akiridions know we’re more than capable by now.”

“It’s true.” –Aja admits. “And if I didn’t, knowing that the rumor of Vilgax’s defeat on this world is a fact would probably convince me. The power of the Omnitrix must be as unbeatable as the legends say.”

Half an hour later, the Mothership has been moved, courtesy of Power Girl, to a residential area merely a few hundred feet away from the crash site – more specifically, a cul-de-sac that appears to have been left unfinished, four other nearby houses apparently devoid of inhabitants. According to Abigail, the owner of this development project died in the Chitauri invasion of New York, and S.W.O.R.D. snatched it up through a shell company almost as soon as he picked up the Omnitrix.

“I had a feeling it’d be useful.” –Abigail shrugs, when questioned. “It’s not exactly practical to keep an eye on you from high Earth orbit – or Area 51, for that matter – so I thought I’d establish a covert monitoring outpost or something here. Now I’m just glad I never got around to building it.”

“Wait, you guys own Area 51?” –Ben balks.

Abigail simply winks at him.

The Mothership gets gently placed on what would’ve been the foundation of a fifth house, which is a nicer way of calling the giant hole in the ground that the tear-shaped spacecraft now sits in, roughly half buried. It’s not exactly subtle, but Prince Krel has a plan, which he promises to explain to them once they’re inside the ship.

It’s not the first time Ben’s been inside an alien starship, but it is the first time he’s there willingly. The Akiridion Mothership is tiny in comparison to Vilgax’s flagship, but it’s still mercifully spacious, showcasing a Tron-like aesthetic of white and glowing blue as far as the eye can see. Ben, admittedly, can’t really make much sense of everything he’s seeing – aside from the weird bulbous orange crystals grafted onto the hull, the Chimeran Hammer was a lot more straightforward. Krel leads them up one deck to the bridge, which offers a hugely open view of everything around the ‘house’.

“Mother, is the visual customization system operational?”

A small, mostly two-dimensional hologram in the shape of the Mothership pops into view, pulsing with every word. “Affirmative, My Royal.”

“Scan the area and design an appropriate facsimile shell. Divert power from all non-essential systems and build us one of these crude Terran dwellings, please.”

The Mothership sends out a barely visible pulse of cyan light that washes over its surroundings. A holographic representation of the vessel and its position on the ground appears, and a 50s style house grows around it – very flat and wide, with an ample front lawn and even bigger backyard, complete with a pool. The ship rumbles, and the design becomes reality, panels of blue light spreading from the hull and filling the void, shaping itself into a home. It’s like a three-dimensional videogame model without textures, until those, too, start to appear and gain definition.

When the process is finished, there is a fifth home in the cul-de-sac, hard light completely indistinguishable from brick and mortar. The group steps out into the brand new home through a sort of ‘portal’ hidden behind a fake fireplace. The inside of the house follows the same retro aesthetic, still shifting around to accommodate brand new appliances that nevertheless seem taken straight out of the I Love Lucy set.

“Man, you guys really went for the aesthetic, huh?” –Julie wonders.

Aja tilts her head, confused. “Is this not what most Terran homes look like?”

The humans wince or shake their heads. “Apologies, my Royals. The range of my scan was hampered by the damage we’ve sustained, so I was forced to combine the surrounding architecture with Akiridion-V’s tiny database on Terran life, which may be several dozen keltons out of date.”

“About sixty or seventy, yeah. These appliances are ancient. We can provide a modern database, if you’d prefer.” –Abigail supplies, amused.

“We’ll take it, but…unfortunately, we don’t have enough energy for a full reset. It’ll have to stay as is until I can repair or replace our power source.” –Krel admits, shaking his head. “Ay, ay, ay.”

Abigail snorts. “Well, it’ll have to do. I doubt people will have much reason to bother you here, anyway – it’s a quiet part of town. You should be able to lay low here.”

“You say that, but they’re still seven feet tall and glow bright blue even in daylight.” –Kevin points out.

“The Mothership is equipped with a Transduction Chamber.” –Krel says. “Akiridion physiology is designed to be malleable, as our artificial bodies are unable to grow or meaningfully change on their own. The transduction process is typically intended to progress the bodies of young Akiridions to their next growth stage or customize appearances at will, but it has also been used by more adventurous people to spend a day in the life of other species.” –he explains. “It should be able to give all of us human forms to pass off as locals and conceal our Life Cores from most bounty hunters.”

“A reminder: energy levels are too low to maintain the transduction effect for longer than approximately twelve horvaths per delson.” –the ship’s AI says.

“Half a day’s not bad.” –Abigail translates for the humans. “I doubt you’ll have much reason to be out and about, anyway.”

“Agreed.” –Varvatos says, sagely. “In fact, Varvatos would strongly suggest the Royals stay safely inside the Mothership while we are on this planet!”

Ben snorts. “Well, that’s gonna get boring in a hurry.” –he says.

“Yes, I have to agree. I will not be doing that.” –Aja says, making a face. “Mama and Papa never allowed us to visit any planet outside the home system, and I refuse to waste this opportunity to explore Terra. Besides, Varvatos; wouldn’t you say scouting our surroundings for potential threats and escape routes is worth some minor risk?”

Varvatos’ scowl deepens, but he grumbles in defeat. “Varvatos sees you paid attention to your military strategy instructors after all, Princess Aja. Very well.” –he says. “But Varvatos has one condition: neither of you may leave this house alone! You will partner with each other or Varvatos, or requisition the presence of the Omnitrix wielder and his allies.”

Krel snorts. “That’s fine. Mama and Papa’s regeneration will need close attention and I have no interest in ‘scouting our surroundings’, or whatever excuse Aja comes up with next, so I doubt I’ll be leaving the Mothership.”

Aja shoots her younger brother a dirty look, while Abigail rolls her eyes. “We’ll change your mind about Earth yet, Prince Krel.” –she says, amused, then turns to Aja and Varvatos. “A handler will be in touch with you shortly, and I’ll inform you about the security strategy as soon as the details are finalized, Commander Vex.”

Varvatos nods, and Abigail turns to him next. “Ben, keep them safe.” –she says, pointedly. “And don’t get cocky, kid; beating Vilgax was a feat and a half, no doubt, but the Omnitrix is not an automatic win button. Always assume your next foe might be the one to beat you.”

Ben winces. “Right.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” –Abigail says. “Anything you need, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Abigail smirks, and taps her cane against the fake wooden floor, vanishing in a sphere of green light and electricity. Krel’s eyes widen. “Wait, was that…?”

“Ancient Galvan tech on Earth? Yeah, it was.” –Kevin sneers. “The Omnitrix is one thing, but I promise you humanity is full of surprises, kid.”

Once the S.W.O.R.D. contingent is gone, Krel dives back into the Mothership’s core with hurried excuses – Ben isn’t quite sure if he’s actually tending to urgent matters or just would rather avoid interacting with Terrans any longer than absolutely necessary. Varvatos sets about exploring their new home and strange Terran devices, and Gwen and Kevin go out to inspect the surrounding neighborhood to get the lay of the land, leaving Aja alone with Ben and Julie. The trio steps outside, checking out the backyard and sitting by pool. Ben sticks his hand in the water, curious. It feels like the real deal, alright, even though it’s merely light given form and substance.

Krel was right – Akiridion hard light tech is nuts.

“I guess this is home now.” –Aja mutters, looking around. “I like it, but…”

“It’s not the same?” –Julie prompts.

The princess hums her agreement. “I feel blind here.” –she admits. “All of Akiridion-V is interconnected through our silicon-based architecture. You can place a hand to the ground and contact your friend, halfway around the planet – even in one of our moons, physically connected to Akiridion-V through synthetic rings. The air there, it doesn’t move around like it does here, but it’s still alive with the interacting ionic fields of every Akiridion around you. This planet, it’s…well, alien.”

“I get that.” –Ben says. “I’ve never been off-world, but I have travelled across the country a bunch of times. You’ll cross from one biome into another and it’ll feel like a whole different planet.”

“Terra is noted for this, did you know?” –Aja says. “Your planet is the most biodiverse in the galaxy, so far as it’s been explored. Most worlds are lucky to have a handful of different environments, but Terra has dozens. It’s almost like the Celestial Host had a particular fondness for your planet – or ran out of creativity for the rest of us, at least.”

“Yeah, well.” –Ben purses his lips. “I guess it’s also known for being primitive and backwards, huh?

Aja winces. “You should understand, my little brother doesn’t mean to be insulting. He takes solace in his technological acumen, and losing our parents…well, you might understand why he’s acting out a bit. This planet has a long way to go, yes, but even Xandarians and Kree, already space-faring over fifty-thousand keltons ago, pale in comparison to the earliest recorded civilizations, like the Galvans who made that.” –Aja says, pointing at the Omnitrix. “In that context, your planet and mine are much closer together than Krel would like to admit.”

“What is your homeworld like, anyway?” –Julie wonders.

“Big.” –Aja says, smirking. “Much bigger than Terra, at least. It is a ringed, super-terrestrial world orbited by nine satellites – four natural, five artificial. The atmosphere is mostly ozone, giving the entire planet a blue tint in various hues, from turquoise to indigo. There is no water there, I’m afraid.”

“Well, we couldn’t breathe there anyway.” –Ben shrugs. “You called it Akiridion-5, right?”

“Yes, the fifth planet from the star Akiridion.”

Ben blinks. “You call a lot of things Akiridion.” –he notes. “Your sun, your planet, your species…”

Aja giggles. “Technically, only the star was called ‘Akiridion’ by our ancestors. We don’t have a name for our world or species, so we were assigned it after first contact with the Xandarians. They didn’t have a name for their species either – though I’m sure I don’t need to explain it to you, Terrans.”

“‘Humans’, actually.” –Julie says. “And our planet isn’t really called ‘Terra’ – well, maybe in Latin and scientific papers. In English, the language we’re using now, the planet is called ‘Earth’.”

Aja’s eyes widen. “Oh. Interesting! A lot of species don’t have specific names for themselves or their planets. It’s a lot more common for stars to get named by early civilizations, so that’s what people get named after in most of those situations.”

Ben sighs. “We really do have a lot to catch up on, huh? Not just about Akiridions, but the way the galaxy works in general. I bet Grandpa Max is an expert in this sort of thing.”

“Max Tennyson, right?” –Aja asks. “He’s very good at this, yes – your grandfather is a hero to everyone in the Nova Empire. But I doubt he always was, Benjamin Tennyson; the same way Krel and I are completely unprepared to take the throne, I would not expect you to be nearly as capable as your grandfather was in his prime. Honestly, the fact that you were able to defeat Vilgax still boggles my mind.”

He shrugs, awkwardly. “Eh, it was a team effort.”

Julie elbows him fondly. “Hey, I know Abigail said not to get a big head, but I think we all know taking down Vilgax was a big fucking deal. You beat the shit out of him for about half the battle and you’re the one who delivered the finishing blow, so I think you deserve to brag at least a little.”

“Please do.” –Aja agrees. “I love to hear about a good battle, so…how did you defeat Vilgax?”

Ben purses his lips, trying to keep his word, but it’s useless. His ego has been properly stroked. “Alright, alright. I guess it all began when my grandpa faked his death…”

“Houston, we’ve got a problem.”

240,000 miles away and a day later, Monica Rambeau peeks around the corner of a ruined dwelling and towards a similarly destroyed courtyard, the remains of broken, ancient statues and long dead trees killed by the rupture of the dome above them dotting her sight line. The crackling of the radio inside her helmet and her steady breathing are her only company in the near-hard vacuum of Luna – or at least they were, until a few moments ago. “Acknowledged, Spectrum. What is it?”

She sends over the feed from the camera on the right side of her helmet. Visibility is poor, of course, on the dark side of the Moon, but the recording’s subjects make up for it by having all sorts of glowing bits all over their body and gear. “Bounty hunters, I’m pretty sure.” –she says, squinting, trying to match the newcomers to the various profiles on their Nova-given files. “Looks like that nine billion creston bounty was a real potent motivator.”

Director Brand chimes in. “Jesus, already?”

“Unfortunately.” –Monica mutters. “They landed in the ruins of Amaquelin Promenade five minutes ago. It looks like they might be setting up shop.”

Her HUD pings with a match. “Positive ID confirmed: it’s the Zeron Brotherhood.” –she says. “Three of them right off the bat. That’s not good.”

“Understatement of the year – and this year’s been fucking wild.” –Brand laments. “The Zerons are top tier hunters – a family, no less, in a profession full of lone wolves. They have a reputation for maximum casualties and wanton collateral damage.”

“I thought bounty hunters were supposed to hold themselves to some standards.” –Monica raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, they get sanctioned all the time. Three guesses as to how much they give a shit, though.” –Brand says, sardonically. “They’re just too good to expel from the Guild.”

Monica snorts. “I guess it’s oddly comforting to know corruption and greed are universal.”

The lead hunter, Zeron Alpha – who looks like the mythical Anubis in the flesh, a bipedal jackal-like creature of undetermined species – plants a sort of spiked baton in the ground, which starts pinging with a red light at the top. From their gunship above, a sort of escape pod looking apparatus, roughly seven feet tall and four feet across, comes down and lands on the beacon.

“What is that?” –she wonders.

“Damn it. That’s a forward operating station, Monica. It’s a direct link to the Guild on Knowhere.” –Abigail says. “Get out of there, there’s nothing you can do. Head back to base.”

Monica wants to argue – what are her powers even for, if not to do as Carol and protect people from bastards like these? – but she trusts Abigail enough not to, like her mother before her. She pulls back, Moon-jumping and phasing through ruined buildings with ease as she heads back to her rover. Far above, hexagonal rifts in space-time open, at least three that she can see, all heading down towards the Zerons. “More bounty hunters?”

“Yeah. You were right: they are setting up shop. This is the first stage in establishing a Guild outpost on the Moon.”

Chapter Text

Aja frowns, staring at the mirror in front of her. Her forehead itches, newly adorned with the arched ridge connecting her brow markings and, more importantly, signaling her as Queen-in-Waiting of the entire Akiridion race.

“This ridge is the mark of your ancestors, and proclaims you worthy of the Crown of Akiridion, that has stood for righteousness since ages past.”

She sighs, recalling Varvatos’ words. In a truly ideal world, she’d have never heard them for herself, content to let Krel be their parents’ heir and Seklos’ chosen, and live the adventurous life she’s always wanted – but since that wasn’t actually an option, she should’ve heard them from her mother.

They’re stable now, she tries to remind herself. The regeneration process is going by at a trickle, with the Mothership’s energy reserves reduced to emergency power, but in a few short wardons, they should come back to life and take their rightful place in leading their people. Getting the mark, while necessary to provide her the legitimacy and authority of the throne, feels too close to accepting a future without her parents – something Aja simply cannot bring herself to do. She and Krel have absolutely no business leading a whole civilization, and beyond that, she is not ready to say goodbye.

In all honesty, she doubts she ever could be – even if she had hundreds upon hundreds of keltons to prepare.

Aja looks around, trying to put her mind off that particular topic. This is what humans call a ‘bathroom’ – which is, according to Mother’s hastily compiled codex on Terra, a place to dispose of their bodily detritus, either from natural organic processes or collected from exposure to their planet’s environment. Most organics have similar technology, though she’s fairly surprised to find out that their systems use water for pretty much every task associated with cleaning themselves. It seems kinda wasteful – water is far more valuable for consumption and to generate electric power across the galaxy, so most organics use some combination of sonics and heat to cleanse themselves. Judging by the view from orbit, though,  she guesses that maybe this planet just has the water to spare.

“Mother, what is this protruding metal rod for?” –she asks, looking up into the small subsection separated with a plasticized cloth barrier.

“That is a shower, Queen-in-Waiting. Humans strip nude, blast water from the implement you’ve pointed out, and use various gels or bars of lipids, salts, chemicals, and various fragrances deemed ‘pleasant’ to their senses to rid their epidermis of dust, dead skin cells, and biological contaminants, among many other types of detritus.” –the AI explains.

“Ooo, lively! Humans are so very interesting.” –Aja says, cheery.

Mother hums. “If you say so. The King-in-Waiting complains of their primitive technology and disgusting, highly inefficient fleshy bodies. I tend to agree.”

“Oh, you two should give it a rest. Organics outnumber us by a ridiculous amount, you know.” -she says, crossing her upper arms while her lower pair rests at her hips. “And besides, Akiridions weren’t always synthetic lifeforms! Our ancestors probably shared some of these rituals with the humans.”

“I can only be thankful that you no longer do. And please, ask your new human allies not to use these facilities if possible – I do not have the power to spare to incinerate their detritus, and I would hate to contemplate the alternative.”

Aja laughs, all but bounding out of the bathroom and her room.

Human houses feel a bit cramped, for the average Akiridion. There’re probably much bigger ones out there, in fairness, but given that this is a typical design for the area (if a few keltons out of date), they must be fairly comfortable with narrow passageways and staircases. Akiridions prefer to have space to spare, in comparison, but then again, it would seem that they’re taller and have longer limbs than humans – not to mention the extra pair on Royals, or the girth some Commoners like Varvatos and, yes, General Morando can reach.

Speaking of, the former commander of the Taylon Phalanx is currently seated in front of a metal box filled with light, projecting images in some primitive approximation of modern displays. “What are you doing, Varvatos?”

“Varvatos is enjoying the torture these tiny Terrans trapped in the light box are suffering through.” –he says, quite content, nodding at it. Indeed, the humans on display appear to be going through some sort of obstacle course that is actively harming them for the amusement of a seated audience, though, in fairness, none of them appear to be seriously injured. “Varvatos must admit, the Terrans’ choice of entertainment is more violent than anticipated!”

“Come on, Commander, you are not dumb enough to believe there are actually humans trapped in there.”

Vex scoffs. “Do not presume to know the limits of Varvatos Vex’s foolishness, Queen-in-Waiting!” –he grumbles, then smirks. “But…yes, that was merely a jest.”

Aja shakes her head. “Where’s Krel?”

“The King-in-Waiting stepped out of his room, looked at the hoo-man furnishings around him, and scoffed in derision. He then immediately dove into the lower decks of the Mothership.” –he dutifully informs.

“Little brother is still on that, is he?” –she rolls her eyes. “I hope he’s at least trying to fix her.”

“He is not, Princess.” –Mother says. “All available system repairs have already been performed. He has been helping me pick human forms for you in the Transduction chamber, where, incidentally, you both are now required.”

She grins. “Ooo, lively! Come on, Varvatos, let’s go.”

The older warrior grumbles, but rises from his very comfy-looking chair – humans must spend a lot of time sitting down to have such luxurious furnishings. The pair make their way down into the bowels of the ship, passing by a few Blankbots working on cleaning the debris and repairing minor cosmetic damage from the crash. Varvatos scoffs at them – Blanks are a pretty common sight throughout Nova space, and indeed one of Akiridion-V’s biggest exports, but they’re typically found in wealthy areas, and thus associated with rich people, which Varvatos and his late family decidedly weren’t for most of their tragically-cut-short lives.

Before he joined the military, Varvatos was once a photon dredger, working the enormous photovoltaic solar plates around the blue giant their species is named after. It was a very dangerous job, as Akiridion is a fickle star, and highly prone to flaring; the job used to kill so many that when her parents took the throne, they replaced the entire workforce with robots – a move that, understandably, angered a lot of people like Varvatos. That’s why they commissioned the construction of Satellite-9 – to house and employ those displaced by Blankbots such as these.

It was far from a perfect solution, but it had settled things – enough that someone like Varvatos would willingly choose to serve the throne – until the bombing of Satellite-9 just a few keltons ago threw everything into chaos. That’s when Morando gained prominence as a rebel against the crown, of course. He accused the Tarrons of complacency – after all, how could foreign aliens strike at the heart of Akiridion territory, just above the homeworld? Were they not one of the most powerful species in the Nova Empire? What use were dozens of fleets and legions upon legions of deadly warriors if such tragedies could occur – and worst of all, go unpunished?

“You seem remarkably silent, Queen-in-Waiting.” –Varvatos notes.

“You can keep calling me Aja, or Princess. I’m not particularly fond of my new title.” –she grouses. “But…yes, I suppose I am. I can’t stop thinking about what led us here.”

He grunts. “Morando’s treachery requires no explanation.”

“I think it does.” –she counters. “He was as loyal to the throne as you are, once. I would like to understand why and how he could’ve done what he did.”

“He was hardly shy about his motivations, Queen-in-Waiting.” –he says, somewhat morose. “He demanded the Royals take an active role in the protection of Akiridion-V, its people, and its allies across Nova space.”

“Yes, and I happen to agree with this approach. I know you’ve voiced similar opinions as well.” –she says, and he shifts uncomfortably. “And yet, neither of us shot Papa and Mama in the back when they refused and made it clear they wouldn’t change their mind.”

Vex sighs. “Morando has personally witnessed the Black Order’s forays into Nova territory. He knows better than any Akiridion the sort of threat that our people and allies are under. The brazen Decimation of our cluster-neighbor Voltar and the bombing of Satellite-9 must have convinced him that House Tarron was no longer fit to rule.” –he surmises, then shakes his head. “Morando fails to understand that, even if the Akiridion Empire committed every warrior and war machine to fighting such a conflict, it would not succeed as the situation stands now. Your parents knew – they know better; they understand that it will take far more power and unity than any single species in the galaxy can wield to challenge the Black Order and survive, let alone win. Your father explained as much to Varvatos.”

“Is that why you stayed loyal to the throne?” –she asks.

He spares a grin for her. “That, and the opportunity of dying in glorious battle protecting you and your brother!”

Aja snorts at his usual bluster as they reach the Transduction chamber, where Krel seems to be hard at work, Luug dozing at his feet. “Ah, good, you’re here!” –Krel greets them. “The Transduction chamber is operational and ready to give us squishy, smelly Terran bodies.”

“You seem more excited about this than I thought you would be, little brother.” –she notes.

“Oh, I’m not excited about the ‘Terran body’ part.” –he shrugs. “But I’ve always wanted to try out different forms! Papa always forbid it…”

She knows this, of course – ‘we were blessed with the form of Seklos for a reason’, he would always say so sternly, like it was an insult to their forefathers to shed their Royal bodies, even temporarily. The Queen had no such compunctions, but since they had never been put in a situation that would require them to mimic another species, she also hadn’t seen a reason to overrule their father’s orders.

Aja hopes he’ll understand, once he wakes up.

“You picked them out for us, right?”

“Mother did most of the research while I ensured the chamber remained operational, but yes, I had some input.” –he says.

“I have evaluated your psychological and behavioral profiles and mapped them as closely as possible to Terran bodies within the confines of plausible genetic combinations, geographical location, and equivalent Akiridion-human anatomy. If you do not find these forms to your liking, please modify accordingly from the list of available physical traits.”

The AI displays one model for each of them – even for Luug, who gets to be a small, fluffy Earth canine the natives call a ‘corgi’. “Ooo, I like the new me.” –Aja says, evaluating her soon-to-be new body. The unclothed form is thin, feminine, and tall, with very pale skin, tiny dot-like markings all over her cheeks, nose, and upper body, and long, off-white hair crowning her head. Her human eyes have the appropriate white sclera, with blue-grey irises framing black pupils. There’s some features that she doesn’t quite recognize, like the strange, depressed patch of twisted, taut skin roughly located in the center of her abdomen, but she figures she’ll have plenty of time to figure out what those are for later.

“To better conceal your identities, Prince Krel and I have chosen three forms that the people on Earth tend to ignore. Princess Aja, the first of such invisible forms is that of a young human female.”

“Girls here are invisible!?” –she asks, mockingly excited. Mother ignores her attempt at humor. Humans have apparently created a truly mind-boggling range of clothing, so she opts not to think about it too hard and picks the first couple options the AI gives her – some kind of long-sleeved top that opens with buttons on the front and sports an alternating red and black square pattern, a thick, resilient cotton article colored deep blue for her bottom half that goes down to her calves, and an odd pair of shoes with a white rubber sole, red fabric going up a bit above her ankles.

“The second, that of Prince Krel, is a young human male of the ethnic group known as ‘Latino’.”

“I have no idea what a La-tino is, but it sounded rather regal!” –Krel grins. His form is a bit shorter than hers, with decidedly darker skin and black hair, shorn to about shoulder length. He lacks a lot of the curves she does have, as is typical of females from sapient mammalian species, replaced instead with smoother, flatter planes – indeed, his mammary glands appear to be fully vestigial, and he lacks the wider hip structure required for live birth. He’s also just…overall lankier than she is, probably to reflect his neglect of physical training. As befits a descendant of hairy apes, there are patches of very short, curly, thick hair all over his body – she has some, too, but they’re barely noticeable due to their nearly colorless nature and their sparsity by comparison.

“You, Commander Vex, will be reconfigured as a ‘senior citizen’.”

“Glorious! Varvatos should be senior to all!” –he preens. His is the strangest of the human forms; he’s very short, and to be honest, he looks quite frail. There seems to be loose, saggy skin all over his body, like he’s melting a little bit, while other places like his joints have skin so tight that you can see the shape of the bones underneath. His thin, snow-white hair, too, looks thin and sort of patchy, and he sports short, bristly white hairs along his upper lip and jaw. Aja’s never bothered to study the specifics, but she’s aware that most organics become weak and frail as they age and their cellular regeneration processes deteriorate; Varvatos must not have ever heard of that fact, because he looks extremely excited. “All three forms sound like winners!”

“I think it’s safe to say we’d like to keep these ones, Mother.” –Aja says, amused.

“Confirmed. Transduction initiated.”

The chamber whines with power, washing over their forms and stripping them of their Akiridion forms, reduced to simple three-dimensional models – but even those get swiftly changed, as the Royal siblings lose their lower arms, Varvatos loses his enormous girth, and all three of them lose quite a bit of height to better accommodate to human standards. It’s a painless process, though quite disorienting, especially once she loses her second pair of arms.

She wonders, then, if this is what it’s like for Ben to step into the shoes of so many alien forms.

“Okay, now do Diamondhead!”

A flash of emerald light fills the Yamamotos’ living room, and a Petrosapien stands tall in their midst. Julie hands him a plastic cup filled with frozen mango smoothie, which the shape-shifter gingerly takes between crystal fingers. He brings the cup’s straw to non-existent lips and tries to suck in a sip, which immediately fails – having no lips means he can’t make a vacuum effect, making the tiny straw less than useful, especially with the slush-like consistency of the ice-cold beverage. He carefully flicks off the lid, and takes a decent gulp instead.

“…so?” –she asks expectantly.

Diamondhead mulls his answer for a second. “…nothing.” –he says, eventually. “Guess Petrosapiens don’t have taste buds.”

“I could’ve told you that. Hell, they don’t have a functional gastrointestinal system thanks to the Galvan uplift, it’s all absent or vestigial. Pretty sure you don’t even have intestines right now.” –Kevin drawls, reading the manual for his muscle car, presumably for some twisted idea of fun. “You could know this stuff for yourself if you bothered to check the Plumber’s badge, Tennyson.”

Ben sheds the form before its weight breaks the floorboards. “Now where would be the fun in that?” –he shrugs. “Half the fun of having this thing is figuring it out as I go.”

“I dunno, Ben, I really do think you should at least skim some of these entries.” –Gwen says, pursing her lips. “Some of your forms have glaring weaknesses that could really put you in danger if you’re not aware of them.”

“I mean, I already know a bunch just from fighting as them.” –he argues, listing off with his fingers. “Goop can’t move without its little UFO thingy, Upgrade gets debilitating headaches if they’re exposed to powerful magnets, and Ripjaws can’t breathe for very long or see worth a damn outside of water.”

“You should ask Azmuth about that last one. Pisciss Volann usually wear an aquatic breathing apparatus on land, and the Omnitrix should supply one automatically, even if you transform underwater.” –Kevin notes. “Sounds like there might be a glitch with that particular transformation.”

Ben waves at Kevin. “See? I learn by doing, and I’ve got Kevin for the complementary alien book smarts. It’s a good system, Cuz, no sense messing with it.”

Gwen grabs the badge from the table. “Right, but there’s so many aliens you haven’t unlocked yet! Like, take this one: ‘the Tarnkipyon species, from the planet Tamkeno, is deathly allergic to the chemical substance phenethylamene’.” –she recites, projecting the holographic form of a humanoid life form with blue-gray skin, hairless and white-eyed, with a domino mask-like black pattern around their eyes and a black oval marking on their forehead.

Seeing Ben’s blank stare, she groans. “You know where you can find phenethylamene? Chocolate! Abundantly! If you ate a single M&M as this alien you would die in seconds.”

“I doubt the Omnitrix would let me die that easily. It kept me alive when SixSix shot me, after all.” –Ben says, skeptical. “And besides, in those short few seconds, I could just swap to Diamondhead, or heck, even back to me, and I’d be fine.”

Gwen sighs. “Director Brand literally just told you not to get cocky yesterday, Ben.” –she reminds him. “But…fine. I guess you know what you’re doing.”

The front door opens, and Mr. Yamamoto strides in, stopping in his tracks when he sees the teens looking like they’re assembled for a war room meeting. “…please tell me there isn’t gonna be another alien invasion soon.”

“Technically, there already was?” –Julie shrugs, and her dad pales. “The heirs to the Akiridion throne crash-landed right outside Arcadia yesterday after escaping a coup on their homeworld. They’re nice, though! Well, nice-ish. This one guy really wanted to kill Ben because he thought we were secretly bounty hunters or something.”

“Hoo-boy, this is really gonna take some getting used to.” –he mutters weakly. “Isn’t that something one of those acronym agencies should handle?”

“They couldn’t get there in time. I had to turn into Power Girl and slow their spaceship down so it wouldn’t flatten the suburbs.” –Ben explains. “S.W.O.R.D. did arrive a few minutes later, but by then I’d already brawled with Commander Vex a little bit.”

The explanation does not, unfortunately, ease Mr. Yamamoto’s concern. “R-right…” –he says. “No injuries, I hope?”

“None.” –Ben promises.

“Well…I guess that’s okay, then.” –he says, sounding remarkably unconvinced – he’s really trying, though, so Ben appreciates the effort. “I’m gonna have a quick lunch, you guys want a ride back to school once I’m done?”

“Nah, it’s fine, dad. Kevin parked his car around the corner – something about ‘dumb kids scuffing the paint playing football’, or something to that effect.” –Julie says, amused. “We’ll manage.”

Ken offers his daughter a small, tired smile, and heads into the kitchen.

The quartet leaves not two minutes later – they still have most of their free period left, but Julie’s clearly a little uncomfortable staying at home after that awkward conversation. All things considered, Julie’s parents have been incredibly accommodating of their daughter’s extra-curriculars; the fact that they’ve allowed her to continue hanging out with them at all after losing her arm and fighting off an honest-to-goodness alien invasion at fifteen, let alone armed with a military-grade Kree prosthetic and an alien pet that can turn it into a deadly weapon, is baffling to think about. Julie’s kinda been walking on eggshells with them – she keeps expecting the other shoe to drop, but their chat with Abigail after the battle and seeing them all in action must’ve really convinced them they’re capable of keeping themselves safe.

Ben’s phone rings as they cruise around town. It’s an unknown number – in fact, it seems to be too many numbers – but he answers it anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Hi, Ben!” –Aja says, on the other end of the line. “I am pleased to report that we have acquired suitable human forms. Also, a ‘cellular telephone’ – apparently it requires something called a ‘data plan’, which we also attempted to purchase, but it seems Earth is not yet connected to the galaxy’s interstellar economy. We left some Crestons according to the estimated value we owed, but the sales clerk did not seem too keen on this idea. Krel modified this primitive comms device so we wouldn’t run into any more trouble.”

Ben purses his lips. “…please tell me you didn’t steal the phone.”

“I, um…did I mention I left the clerk some Crestons?”

Guess I’m paying for a phone later, Ben thinks to himself, shaking his head. “Good thing my parents consider money a good substitute for familial love and affection.” –he mutters, sarcastically. Julie and Kevin share an amused snort, while Gwen simply groans at how nonchalant he sounds. “Where are you guys at, now?”

“We appear to be in some kind of plaza lined with delightfully trimmed vegetation.” –she says. “Apparently, human bodies require quite a bit of nourishment, and a helpful Terran pointed us to something called a ‘taco truck’. I didn’t know Earth had mobile nourishment providers!”

Ben covers the mic. “I guess they’re at Stuart’s. What a coincidence, huh?” –he says, and Kevin immediately starts heading that way. “Hang tight, we’re on our way.”

“Hmm…I suppose there is a nearby tree. This may be challenging with only two arms, but I will do my best to ‘hang tight’ until you arrive, my friend.”

He chuckles, hanging up. “Y’know, if we’re gonna commit to this Alien Force gig, we might as well get used to quirky ‘fish out of water’ scenarios. Something tells me this is just the first of many.”

“We could prepare a welcoming package.” –Gwen suggests. “I’m sure S.W.O.R.D. has one, but…I doubt it’s very well-tuned for hyper teenage aliens on the run.”

“Nah, nah, hang on a minute; are we seriously not gonna talk about Ben calling us the ‘Alien Force’?” –Kevin says, narrowing his eyes. “When did we agree to this? I don’t remember a vote, Tennyson.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I mean Toby came up with it and it already kinda caught on. Besides, we gotta have a team name, don’t we?”

“We really don’t.” –Kevin says, deadpan. “But even if we did, why ‘Alien Force’? Half the team isn’t even alien, dude – and you only count as a part-timer.”

“Three out of five is enough, I think.” –Ben says. “And before you complain, Ship absolutely counts as our fifth.”

Kevin looks at Julie in the rearview mirror. She shrugs. “I mean, you’re not gonna get me to disagree there.” –she says. “Besides, my arm is Kree. So, we’re more like…64% alien?”

The older teen turns to Gwen beside him. “Even you, Gwen?”

The redhead sighs. “I’m not very fond of it, to be honest, but Ben’s right: we should have a team name. I just wish it was a better one – though considering it seems like we’ve overestimated his talent for naming things, I wouldn’t expect him to come up with it.”

“Everyone’s a critic.” –Ben says, deadpan. “Okay, how about this: all in favor of officially calling ourselves the Alien Force until someone else comes up with a better alternative, raise your hand.”

Ben and Julie raise their hands, with Gwen begrudgingly joining in a moment later. Kevin scowls, and full-on groans when Ship pokes its head out of Julie’s shoulder as its own vote. “Ugh. Do whatever you want, but I am not using that name.” –he grouses.

Ben smirks. “You’ll change your mind once we’re like, a household name.” –he says.

Kevin slams on the brakes, then, as a young teen runs across the street without looking and towards the plaza, which they’ve just about arrived at. Ben immediately sheds the carefree attitude, bringing up the Omnitrix dial. “What’ve we got?” –he asks, trying to see what she’s running away from. “Is it bounty hunters already?”

“Don’t you dare transform inside my car, Ben.”

“It’s, uh…not bounty hunters.” –Gwen says, sounding kind of befuddled. “This is something…weirder.”

Ben frowns, climbing between the front seats. The plaza seems to be in a state of barely controlled chaos; apparently, an impromptu eating contest of sorts has broken out in front of Stuart’s taco truck, featuring a tall, very pale teen with platinum blonde hair, roughly Ben and Julie’s age, that none of them have ever seen before.

Judging by the other two newcomers cheering her on, though – a tan skinned boy looking roughly the same age and a cantankerous old man waving a cane around – it’s pretty easy to guess who the girl is.

“Not two days on Earth and the princess is already well on her way to becoming a local celebrity.” –Kevin says, deadpan. “Something tells me keeping these guys safe is gonna be a doozy.”

The Alien Force (patent pending) steps out of Kevin’s car, jogging over to the lively scene. Aja seems to be polishing off what can only be a Diablo Maximus burrito, judging by the monstruous size of the wrapper and the eye-watering spiciness in the air – an all-but-forbidden menu item that contains every single type of pepper in the Scoville Top 5, diced, chopped, and salsa’d in there. Only one person in the entire town has ever finished one, and they seem to be the event’s impromptu referee.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot stress this enough: this girl cannot be human.” –Toby Domzalski says, making Ben wince. “That is the second – yes, second Diablo Maximus burrito she’s eaten in a single sitting. It’s been five minutes! It took me a whole dang hour of absolute agony! And that’s not even counting the absolute horrors I went through afterwards…”

The small crowd groans at the implication. “Hey, you guys eat a bunch of peppers with ‘reaper’ in the name and tell me how it goes, alright?” –he defends, then balks as Aja eats the last bite on her paper plate. “…though I guess some people are just built different, huh?”

Aja wipes her mouth on the sleeve of her red and black checkerboard flannel shirt. “Oh, most definitely! I am fairly certain you lack the necessary hard light weavers or fabricators on this planet.”

“Welp. What was that you said about keeping them safe?” –Ben elbows Kevin. “I’ll provide a distraction. You get everyone away from here.”

Ben runs behind a nearby tree and slams the Omnitrix dial, XLR8 standing where he did a moment ago. “Look, everyone!” –Kevin says, doing his best 1920s newsboy impression. “It’s that alien vigilante everyone’s talking about!”

Everyone turns and gasps as XLR8 waves. “If any of you catch me, I’ll take a selfie with you!”

The crowd, mostly made up of teens and college-age young adults, immediately take their phones out and chase after the shape-shifted Kineceleran, who does some tiny zig-zag sprints taunting and getting everyone away from the plaza. Toby starts to follow, too, but Kevin holds him back. “Dude, you can take a selfie with him whenever. It’s just Ben, remember?” –he reminds the older teen.

“Riiight. Sorry, mob mentality.” –he says. “Anyway, what’s up, Alien Force?”

Kevin grumbles. “Them, actually.” –Gwen says, nodding at Aja, who keeps looking back and forth between them. “We’re their, um…chaperones, while they’re in town, if you catch my meaning.” –she says. She points her thumb up at the sky, for good measure, which has Kevin facepalming a little bit.

“Ohhh…so you really aren’t human, then, huh?” –Toby realizes. “That’s totally awesome-sauce! Kinda feel better about my Diablo Maximus challenge now – do you guys even have taste buds? She scarfed those things down like Claire with a bowl of guac and tortilla chips after a long day of Trollhunting.”

“Of course we have a sense of taste. I included all the amenities in our new bodies – I just got rid of some of your silly human defects.” –Krel claims. “I mean, Seklos and Gaylen, what kind of novice gene editor wires capsaicin receptors to the pre-frontal cortex? That’d shoot a brain’s pain response into overdrive for no good reason! And don’t even get me started on how inefficient your digestive systems are – so much waste! Seriously, humans are just absurd.”

Kevin snorts. “Don’t let a religious type hear you say that.” –he says.

A blue, black, and white blur circles them once and stops next to Julie with a flash of red. “Distraction accomplished.” –Ben reports, waving his hands a bit to keep himself steady after the sudden stop. “We should probably book it, though. Those guys really wanted a picture.”

“Actually, we should head back to school.” –Gwen reminds them. “Free period’s done in ten minutes.”

“You guys head back.” –Ben suggests. “I’ll stick with the Royals. Not exactly safe for them to explore on their own.” –he says, pointedly, turning to Julie. “Cover for me?”

Julie shrugs. “Sure. Doubt Señor Uhl will believe anything I come up with, though, so…expect a phone call from a very annoyed German expat.”

“Wait a whole dang minute, Benji…” –Stuart balks. “Are you telling me the Royal family of Akiridion-V is masquerading as these fine customers of mine!?”

“Only half of it, I’m afraid.” –Aja says, crestfallen.

The short, elderly man beside Aja points an accusatory finger at Stuart. “Why does a random hoo-man know of the Royals? Varvatos Vex suspects this purveyor of intestinally challenging foodstuffs may be working for the enemy!” –he bellows, raising his cane above his head.

Kevin easily stops the swing. Ben sighs. “He really isn’t.” –he sighs. “Stuart’s an alien, like you guys – a Durio from, well, Durio. He’s also my boss, so please don’t bash his head in, or shoot him, or run him through with that light spear you love so much.”

“Maybe don’t give them any ideas, Benji?” –Stuart nervously suggests.

Varvatos’ demeanor seems to change on a dime, though. “A measly Durio holds sway over the Omnitrix’s holder? You, sir, must be the most powerful of your gelatinous kind!”

“Oh, well, I don’t mean to brag, but I do own multiple small businesses.” –he preens. “Ben’s mastery of the Omnitrix is all his own, though. All I do is pay him to make and sell cups of fruit and ice slush a couple hours a day.”

Varvatos grumbles. “Hmm. Disappointing. Varvatos is interested in these fruit and ice slush cups you mention, however...”

“They’re called smoothies, big man.” –Ben says. “And that sounds like a plan to me. Let’s start the proper tour of Arcadia there, huh?”

The tour settles into something of a cycle pretty quickly; Aja flitting about and looking at every new human thing she sees like a butterfly on Red Bull, Krel poorly disguising his distaste at how primitive he considers Earth and humanity to be, and Varvatos permanently being two seconds away from accusing everything from old men playing chess in the park to a malfunctioning traffic light of working for the enemy and beating them to death with his walking stick.

Still, the people of Arcadia are used to weird stuff by now. And not just because of the invasion, the scars of it still fresh all over the small town – there’s still a couple of Damage Control collection centers for the odd piece of alien detritus that might’ve escaped S.H.I.E.L.D.’s sweeps of Arcadia, and several trucks and construction crews emblazoned with the Maria Stark Foundation logo dot the town, still hard at work repairing what didn’t need to be demolished. Arcadia’s always been a hotspot for cryptid activity and reports, which they now know is likely because of the magical civilization leaving underneath them.

“Arcadia’s inhabitants must be remarkably resilient.” –Aja comments. They’re both sitting on a bench, Luug dozing by Aja’s feet, waiting on Krel and Varvatos, who’ve gone inside a tiny record store he didn’t even know existed. He should be keeping a keen eye on the Akiridions, but instead he’s looking at a crew that’s working on safely bringing down a three-story building that one of Vilgax’s larger mechs fell through when defeated. “The Conqueror’s invasion is so recent, yet everyone seems to walk around as if it never came at all.”

“I don’t think there’s anything particularly special about Arcadians.” –he shrugs. “Life just kinda…goes on, even after a tragedy.”

“Does it?” -Aja tilts her head, bringing her legs up and crossing her arms around them. Ben idly wonders if such gestures are universal across intelligent species – those with the right number of limbs, anyway. “When Mama and Papa were killed, I felt like my entire world had shattered. They’re not even permanently dead and I still feel like I’m holding in one final breath before falling into the void.”

Ben smirks, a little sad. “Are you sure you aren’t? I’m guessing you aren’t used to our atmosphere yet.”

She offers him a small smile. “I admit, it is somewhat strange to have an invisible force constantly caressing this skin – there isn’t really any wind in our homeworld.” –she notes, rubbing her cheeks. Once again, Ben can’t help but be impressed by Akiridion hard light engineering’s ability to simulate physical objects – you could count all the freckles on her face, and the peach fuzz along her cheeks and jaw is so real that it almost freaks him out a little.

“How’s the human body treating you, by the way?” –he asks, curious.

Aja taps her chin with her index finger. “It has been something of a learning curve; the form factor is very similar, of course, but…I really miss my second pair of arms.” –she admits. “I keep trying to give myself things to hold with them and just dropping things into empty air. It’s also been a bit strange getting used to these proportions; it’s not just the fact that I’m nowhere near as tall as I was – human limbs just seem to be slightly shorter than ours, proportionally, so everything feels like it’s just slightly out of reach. Oh, and I seem to be excreting some kind of saline solution through tiny holes on my skin, too – which is quite gross, but I appreciate the cooling effect upon contact with Earth’s highly energetic atmosphere, I suppose. These things are…strange, but manageable…” –she says, growing increasingly exasperated, poking at her chest. “…but then there’s these!”

Ben hadn’t looked down, but he realizes now that she’s very clearly not wearing a bra, instantly looking away with a blush. She huffs in annoyance. “I do not understand how your females fight with such handicaps. Mine are not even very large compared to some I’ve seen on other humans, and yet they shift and bounce so uncomfortably! How am I supposed to fend off murderous bounty hunters when my own chest seems to be attacking me!?”

He tries his best not to be embarrassed and think of it like he would in biology class – it’s simply another part of the human body, and all things considered, it’s a harmless consequence of Aja’s new form. He’d assumed she’d be familiar with the experience, considering her Akiridion form did have something of a swell to her chest, but now that he thinks about his own brief experience as Lionize – he’s coming around to it, sue him – he does recall that his chest didn’t feel any different in the Akiridion form, when it definitely was noticeably different as his Kryptonian form. It must just be an aesthetic choice for Akiridions, rather than an anatomical feature – maybe they were something akin to mammals in ancient times, before becoming synthetic creatures, or they just pattern themselves on similarly humanoid species.

“Right. You should probably wear a bra.” –he says. At Aja’s quizzical look, he quickly looks it up on his phone – and shoots a quick text to Julie saying ‘brb explaining bras to an alien’, to which she responds with multiple laughing emoticons. He taps on the first picture of a sports bra he finds. “These things! They hold, uh, everything in place. I can vouch for ‘em thanks to Power Girl, hah.”

Aja closely examines the phone. “What a strange garment. It seems quite restrictive, but I suppose that is the point. May I borrow one? Somehow, I doubt anyone who sells these will take our Crestons either…”

“Oh, sorry. The Omnitrix just…materializes clothes on me. I don’t own any myself.” –he says, apologetic. “I’ll ask Julie if she can lend you a couple, though.”

He does, but his girlfriend just sends a face rolling its eyes with the message ‘Sweet of you not to have your eyes glued to her boobs, I guess, but Aja’s like twice my size, LOL’. He winces. “Uh…we’ll figure something out.”

Aja scowls. “If you say so…” –she trails off. “I just feel like I’d be enjoying how weird this experience is a lot more if I didn’t need to think about fighting for my life at a moment’s notice. I don’t think I can afford to fight with such a sensitive body for more than a few seconds.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “Is it really that bad?” –he wonders.

“Mm. Not everything, I suppose. This world is such a shock of color, coming from a planet mostly steeped in shades of blue. I’ve enjoyed your food tremendously, and there are so many pleasant and interesting scents in Arcadia. But that’s part of the problem – I don’t know how you do not suffer from constant sensory overload.” –she admits. “Your ancestors must’ve needed to be very alert all the time.”

“Earth does have its share of dangers.” –Ben says.

They sit in silence for a moment, looking on as the workers hammer away at the crumbling walls. Aja rests her chin on her knees. “I wonder what my parents would make of this world. Hear Papa berate me for taking a human form. Tell Mama of your triumph over Vilgax.” –she says. “I just…wish I could talk to them. Every step I take since their murder, I feel like I do so blindfolded.”

Ben hums, thinking of her earlier comments, too. “I understand what you mean. When I thought Grandpa Max had died, I just…didn’t know what to do for days. I don’t think I was even really that sad, just…numb. Staring off into the distance, barely a thought in my head.”

“How did you push past it?” –Aja asks.

“I didn’t. Just found out he wasn’t actually dead, and then I put on the watch and there wasn’t really time to think about it anymore.” –he admits, holding up the Omnitrix. “But if I’d had to, I guess I would’ve tried to think about what he’d want me to do. Grandpa wouldn’t want me to mourn very long; he’d want me to go out and experience life to the fullest, the same way he did, and just like he tried to teach us to every summer.”

Aja hums. “I know what Mama and Papa would want me and Krel to do. They’d want us to grow into the Royals we’re meant to be, and lead our people in their absence. But…” –she sighs. “I don’t want to lead anyone. I’ve never wanted the throne.”

“Couldn’t you, like…abdicate? Or heck, just pass the crown to your brother? He sure seems like the type of person who’d want minions at his beck and call.” –he says, sarcastically.

Aja chuckles. “As much as I’ve dreamed that I could, that is not how it works.” –she says, mournfully. “Upon the Akiridion throne, always two there must sit – it can be brother and sister, husband and wife, the allied Heads of two Houses, and so on. One of them is to represent their fellow Royals, and the other must voice the will of the Commoners; unfortunately, my parents have made it very clear that there are no suitable candidates to continue their work other than us.”

“Sounds a bit self-centered.” –Ben blurts out, narrowing his eyes. Seeing her raised eyebrow, he cringes. “Oh, sorry. Shouldn’t speak ill of the, uh…yeah, sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize; I suppose it must seem that way to you, but I assure you, that is not the case – our rulers are chosen by Seklos’ own core. No Akiridion in history has ever cared more for her people than she did, and so we all trust that those picked by her very soul are the best our species has to offer.” –she says, bitterly. “Even if – Seklos forgive me – I truly believe she made a mistake in choosing me.”

That’s kinda wild, Ben thinks. He only knows the broad strokes about Seklos and Gaylen’s story – they were invoked too often for him not to ask – but from what he understands, Seklos is kinda like a patron saint for the entire species, practically a goddess in the eyes of her people. Unlike a great many monarchs in human history, Aja can claim to have some divine mandate and has the evidence to back it up.

“I’m guessing General what’s-his-name isn’t too keen on your magical choosing system?”

“Morando. And he used to be, actually.” –Aja admits. “But my parents’ choices…disappointed him in recent years. They disappointed a lot of people, myself included.”

Ben’s about to comment that disappointment alone’s not exactly enough to cause a coup d’état, when Krel and Varvatos exit the store. The youngest Akiridion is holding a Papa Skull record, looking more excited than Ben’s ever seen him. “Found something you like?” –Ben asks.

“Much to my surprise, there is something on this planet worth the many, many warp jumps.” –he says. “To think, this primitive audio format almost kept me from discovering your species’ greatest treasure!”

Vex nods sagely. “Varvatos must agree; for such a fragile, feeble species, hoo-mans produce very pleasantly aggressive music.”

The door to the store slams open. A very annoyed looking woman in her twenties with short, pink hair, electric blue eyes, and heavy eye make-up bursts out. “Hey! You gotta pay for that, dude!” –she barks, in that supremely annoyed tone only someone with a lot of experience in customer service can truly achieve.

Here we go again, Ben laments internally. “It’s my bad, I forgot to give him the cash, and he’s, uh…not used to paying by himself? No worries! I’ll, uh…pay for it.” –he pipes up, reaching for his wallet.

The young woman crosses her arms, then raises an eyebrow. “Well, you don’t look like you have thirty bucks on you, but I’ll take it.” –she drawls, extending her hand. She frowns once she gives him a second look, though. “Wait, aren’t you Gwen’s cousin?”

“If it’s a good thing, then yeah. Otherwise…”

She snorts. “It’s fine.” –she says, nodding at Krel, who very protectively hunches over the vinyl. “Just this once, he can keep the record. On the house. Tell your cousin I’m going extra hard on her tonight, though.”

Ben groans, blushing. “Jesus, man. TMI.”

“Relax, kid. I ain’t into your cousin – and besides, I’m kinda taken.” –she drawls. “This is about her and that charm around her neck she wants to get rid of so badly.”

Ah, Ben realizes, she must be one of those wizards she’s training under. “Got’cha.”

The girl nods at Krel. “Enjoy the vinyl kid. And try to bring some cash next time, yeah?”

Krel has already moved on, keenly reading the track list on the back. Ben rises from the chair. “Welp. Where do you guys wanna go next?”

“The closest arena or colosseum available! Varvatos wishes to test this body’s combat capabilities!” –the elderly man bellows.

“Home.” –Krel says, deadpan.

“Oh, oh! I saw some slightly older humans in some kind of lively obstacle course riding hoverboards that did not hover! I would like to try and see if my skills translate!”

“Gonna have to wait till after school, kid.”

They all turn, and Ben cringes – it’s Detective Scott, walking up to them. What he’s doing patrolling like a common cop, he has no idea – maybe they’re short-handed since he keeps doing their job for them. To make matters worse he’s not alone – Señor Uhl, the school’s acting director in Mr. Strickler’s absence (and his Spanish teacher, a subject he is quite terrible at), is marching close behind. Guess Julie really didn’t fool him, he thinks.

Krel rolls his eyes. “We do not go to that which you call “school”, Terran. We learn via thermogenic cosmesis – a vastly superior method of imparting knowledge to your strange cellulose compendiums, I assure you.”

The detective scoffs. “Maybe that’s how you do things wherever you’re from, but I don’t care about whatever ‘thermobaric cosmetics’ you’re talkin’ about, kid. In this town, children your age go to school, and people like me get to drive you back there, and yell at you on the way whenever you feel like playin’ hooky.”

Ben frowns. “Wait…you know they’re…?”

“…refugees from Sokovia, yes. Their case’s handler, Frau Brand, let me know in advance.” –Señor Uhl says, giving him a pointed look. He then turns to the man with the badge. “I’ll take it from here, Detective.”

Detective Scott frowns. “If you say so.” –he says. “I better not catch you three outside of class again. Especially you, Tennyson.” –he says, shaking his head. “These guys have an excuse, but you? What would your mama say, huh?”

The man walks off towards his car. Ben tries not to get too annoyed – Sandra Tennyson is a local celebrity, after all, but he knows for a fact that she couldn’t care less if he goes to school or not, unless it impacts her image. “I realize responsibility is hardly your strongest suit, Benjamin.” –Uhl says. “But letting our guests roam more or less free was decidedly foolhardy.”

“You’re in the know. Somehow.” –Ben muses.

“Ja. About the Akiridion Royals, about your friends’…enhancements…and, of course, about that rather unique watch of yours.” –he says. “Thank you, by the way. You and your friends saved all our lives.”

“Just doing our job.” –Ben crosses his arms, suitably impressed. “And I guess you did your homework. Are you their S.W.O.R.D. handler, then?”

He hums. “Something like that, though I am S.H.I.E.L.D., not S.W.O.R.D. – and retired, at that. A nasty incident in Bahrain a few years ago that forced me to put down the badge rather earlier than I’d hoped.” –he explains, a faraway look to his face. “Agent Hill asked me to keep an eye on you all as a favor, and Director Brand chose to shoot two birds with one stone and filled me in on the details.”

“Mm. Got’cha. Not sure how I feel about someone else giving up my secret identity, but it can’t be helped, I guess.”

The former agent chuckles. “Like I said, your watch is quite unique – and it’s not like you can take it off. Eventually, people will put two and two together.” –he warns him. “Now come. I did not bluff with the officer – you three are headed for school.”

“Halcon.”

“Zeron.”

Alpha doesn’t turn as he stares at planet Earth from atop the lunar ridge overlooking the Guild outpost, letting the newly arrived bounty hunter approach from behind – a gesture of respect or trust, for some, but merely one of contempt in this case.

She’s no threat to him, and they both know it.

“Come to enjoy the view?” –he asks, mockingly.

“Hardly.” –she retorts, derisively. “This world is so primitive, I doubt I’ll hunt another target here in my lifetime. Even the most pragmatic quarries desire some modern creature comforts.”

The much more experienced and prolific Alpha knows that this is not always the case. Most quarries might act the way she describes, but his most dogged pursuits have taken him to desolate, post-apocalyptic worlds, empty asteroids in the middle of nowhere, the deepest, most crushing oceans in the galaxy, and even the innards of an active volcano. In order to survive, some people are willing to renounce every part of their lives – to barely be alive, hoping against hope that they’ll escape his and his siblings’ notice.

To this date, they never have.

“So pessimistic.” –he jeers.

“You disagree.”

“Did I not establish an outpost?” –he asks, rhetorically. “This planet and its champions offer a greater challenge than most of you youngbloods realize. The Hunter’s Guild will have more business here eventually.”

Halcon scoffs. “If you say so, Zeron.”

She stares at the back of his head for a few moments. “Something else on your mind?” –he asks, annoyed.

“You ceded the right of First Blood to me.” –she says, a statement that desperately wants to be a question.

“Don’t think yourself special. You were merely the first to answer the summons.” –he shrugs.

“But why cede it at all?” –she wonders.

Alpha affixes her with a wicked look. “If you have to ask that question, you’re not ready for the answer.”

“Don’t patronize me.” –she bristles. “…you’re using me to probe the Royals and their defenses. Banking on them defeating me so you can swoop in and take the bounty for yourself.”

He chuckles. “So, this bird does have a brain. Fascinating.”

“You won’t be so eager to mock me when I claim the highest bounty in Guild history.” –she leers at him. “And gambling away such an important opportunity? Hah! After the Omnitrix fiasco with SixSix and Krabb, you Zerons will be lucky if you only get knocked off the top rankings.”

“It’s a poor hunter who dreams of the feast before taking the shot.” –he drawls. “Make no mistake; I fully expect you to die by the Akiridions’ hands. So, do try to get me some decent intel beforehand, will you? Or, at the very least, put on a good show.” –he says, morbidly amused. He turns, walking back towards the outpost, and past the puffed up avian of indeterminate species – looking every bit like she wants to murder him – but, again, they both know she’s simply unable to. “Look on the bright side, Halcon; if you do kill the Royals, you’ll be so filthy rich you might even be able to put a bounty on me.”