The Invincible by Van Plexico "ALL ALONE IN THE NIGHT" Iron Man and the Kree woman, Mon-Dria, stood before the hatch of their spacecraft, exchanging nervous glances. Mere moments earlier, the ship they’d commandeered had emerged from some sort of wormhole in space, only to be caught in an irresistable force and pulled into this gigantic space station. “The atmosphere outside is at acceptable levels on all scales,” Mon-Dria reported. “I’m opening the hatch.” Inside his armor, Tony nodded. He gave his weapons systems indicators a quick check. “Ready.” The hatch slid open, but only a long, empty boarding tube greeted them. It stretched into the dimly-lit distance. They glanced at one another, then started down the tube. Mon-Dria keyed a sequence into her remote and the ship sealed behind them. She snapped the control back into place on her utility belt, which held other items she’d retrieved from the ship’s stores. Unholstering a pistol, she held it at the ready. At last they came to the end of the boarding tube, encountering a sealed hatch, and they glanced at one another again. Tony shrugged, Mon-Dria repeated the gesture, and then she pressed the large red button next to the hatch. The door slid soundlessly up into the wall, revealing a small, poorly lit room beyond. The lights brightened when they stepped through. Behind them, the door closed again. A low hum surrounded them. “I don’t like this,” Iron Man muttered. He frowned to himself. “Are we…moving?” The hum vanished, and the door slid open again. The light from outside was brighter, though not by much. Mon-Dria nodded. “Travel tube. It carried us from the docking area to...” She leaned out. “...Somewhere...” She jumped as a small man appeared before them in the doorway. “Ah! There you are! I thought we had new arrivals.” The man was alone, and appeared human enough; he stood about five-foot-four, with close-cropped dark hair. He wore a nondescript gray suit, and looked to be middle-aged. He studied Iron Man up and down. “Very interesting! From the readings, you’re definitely Human, as I’d suspected, but with some sort of primitive spacesuit or protective coating. How nice.” He turned to Mon-Dria and gasped. “Oh my! My goodness, how fortunate! Blue! Now I have a matched set!” Mon-Dria frowned, while Iron Man moved closer to the little guy. “There seems to have been a mix-up somewhere,” he said calmly, attempting to be diplomatic and not cause further problems, if possible. “We’re not supposed to be here.” The man leaned in closer, too. “You’re not?” he whispered conspiratorially. “Why not?” “Because we were brought here by accident. We were pulled into some sort of gateway--” The fellow was nodding. “Yes, yes. Gateway. Perfect.” He straightened up, frowned at Iron Man a moment, then announced, “No, no, everything’s just fine. No problems.” Tony frowned, glancing at Mon-Dria. She shrugged. “Now if you’ll just come with me--” He led them around the corner, and they emerged into a bustling area filled with a crowd of humanoids and other beings of remarkably diverse backgrounds. Some wore what seemed to be spacesuits, others wore apparently decorative clothing and still others wore very little at all. “What in the-- ?” Tony’s mouth hung open. Mon-Dria’s eyes moved from one to another of the aliens, studying their forms and comparing them to what she knew. “These beings are completely unknown to me,” she announced. Tony looked around as well. Their arrival seemed to go unnoticed, for the most part. The aliens milled about, the din of their various conversations a low roar. Some did take note of their arrival, however. Across the room, a bright-yellow-skinned humanoid spoke into a device on his sleeve, then melted into the crowd. “Yes, yes, come, come.” The little fellow led them through the crowd. “We just need to get you registered here, and--” Just as Tony opened his mouth again, to protest, Mon-Dria beat him to the punch. “We have no intention of ‘registering’ for anything.” She faced the fellow, glaring. “We were brought here against our wills. We demand to be released at once and sent back to Earth space. Or any other space,” she added, evoking a concealed frown from Tony. The little man smiled somewhat apologetically. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that. The others here arrived the same way you did. Where would we be if we just--” he giggled, “--sent everyone back? Oh no, can’t do that.” He hurried on. “Now, please, follow me. We must register you.” At last they reached the opposite side of the long room, and the little man stepped behind a counter, pulling a clipboard out of a drawer. “Now. That’s better.” He smiled at them. “Blue one first. You--” Mon-Dria and Tony were about to launch into the guy with a massive verbal assault when the commotion started. Voices raised, the crowd surged backwards, and the sound of a weapon discharging came from the center of the room. A female-sounding voice screamed. Tony and Mon-Dria turned to see what was happening, but the little man pushed past them and shoved his way toward the center, calling out, “See here now, that sort of thing is not allowed!” “He’ll get himself killed,” Iron Man observed, shaking his head. He looked back at Mon-Dria. “But he hasn’t been what you’d call ‘overly helpful’ to this point anyway...” “No, I--” Mon-Dria never finished her sentence. Her eyes widened, her lips parted in a silent scream. Then her eyes rolled closed and she fell soundlessly to the floor. “Mon-Dria! What happened?” Tony leaned over her, only to feel hands grabbing at his arms. Caught by surprise, before he could fully react, he was pulled away from his alien partner and shoved to the wall. Behind him, two hoodlums grabbed Mon-Dria and pulled her limp form into the crowd. “NOOO!” Tony surged power into his armor’s arms, wrestling free, and smacked one of his attackers with a balled fist. The green alien stumbled backwards, blood spouting from what might have been its lip. Aiming a repulsor at another of the aliens, Tony shouted, “Back off! Bring her back!” The alien charged. Tony fired. The repulsor blast surged from his gauntlet and smashed into the attacker, dropping the creature in its tracks with a cry. Tony whirled around, eyes wide with anxiety. “Where did you take her?” he shouted. “Bring her back!” He stumbled forward as someone clobbered him across the back of the helmet. Turning, he unleashed a few more blasts and brought this attacker down as well, oblivious to the crowd that now fled from his shooting. The net dropped over him before he knew what had happened. Thin mesh, it did no damage, and he grabbed at it, seeking to rip it away. Before he could, however, he realized that the power indicators in his armor were dropping rapidly. “Aw, no, not that old trick...” The net was siphoning his power. And in this prototype outer space construction armor, he knew just how vulnerable he was—it was not made for serious combat! He watched the power indicators hit bottom, and his armor suddenly felt like it was constructed of solid lead. He slumped to his knees and then hit the floor, unsure whether it was safer to lie there in the now- powerless armor or remove it and take his chances. The ultrasonic soundwaves which buffeted him next rendered the question moot, as they sent him into a deep sleep. *** Mon-Dria awoke in a cramped room, surrounded by other bodies. After a few moments, she adjusted to the pale lighting and looked around. She was surrounded by over a dozen others, all humanoid, very nearly human. All were obviously female. They lay about on cushions, all wearing different versions of what appeared to be lingerie. Mon-Dria blinked, reached up to rub her eyes. She couldn’t reach them. Looking down, she realized heavy chains had been attached to manacles on her wrists and ankles, over her flight suit, binding her. “What- -?” “She’s awake,” one of the females said. Several stood and crowded around her, together forming a curtain of silk, jewels, and flesh. Mon-Dria closed her eyes, breathing deeply. She was still groggy. “Where am I?” “You’re in the Master’s personal quarters,” a raven-haired female with alabaster skin replied. “You must truly appeal to the Master’s tastes,” another commented, tossing her blondish hair away from her orange-hued features. “He had you brought directly here.” “It’s the blue skin, of course,” a third interjected. “Why else? She’s probably even one of his kind!” Mon-Dria’s head pounded. She could barely hear what the others were saying. Then the words registered, along with something she’d heard earlier. “Blue skin? What--?” “Blue skin. Like the Master.” The orange-skinned girl huffed indignantly. “Now I suppose you’ll become his favorite.” *** “Where am I?” Iron Man sat up, instantly grateful to realize that he still wore his armor and that somehow it had recharged enough of its power from ambient energies to enable him to move. “Mon-Dria!” He climbed to his feet, looking around desperately. Then he cursed. No way to know how long he’d been out. He saw that he was in a different room than the one he’d fought in before. Not a room, really; more like a long corridor, perhaps between sections of the big station. Not such big crowds any more, either; just a few ragged individuals slumped against walls and in doorways. The lighting was dim, and smoke drifted in the air. Smoke? That can’t be good, on a space station... “You are awake. Good.” Iron Man blinked. He whirled. “I was wondering if they had done enough damage to your armor to kill you, or if you were still alive.” Tony’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. He could now make out a short, slender figure with green skin sitting nearby, staring up at him. Tony stepped towards him. “You-- you speak English?” The alien smiled. “English? No, never heard of it.” His smile widened, and he spread his webbed fingers as if to indicate the entire station. “But here, we all understand one another. Somehow.” Iron Man frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.” “Little here does, friend.” The green creature shook a long finger at him. “The sooner you understand and accept that, the better it will be for you.” Iron Man grunted, watching as the power indicators inside his helmet slowly crept back into the green. He wasn’t sure exactly where the energy was coming from, but apparently his armor could absorb and process it, albeit slowly. He turned back to the alien, feeling a bit more confident. “I’m not accepting anything, friend, until I find Mon-Dria and get us both out of here. Then, yeah, I’ll accept whatever you want.” The alien seemed to laugh softly. “As you wish.” It looked at him closer. “Mon- Dria. You refer to the blue-skinned female who accompanied you, I presume.” Tony leaned down. “You’ve seen her? Where?” “Perhaps I can help you find her.” Iron Man brought his hand up menacingly, open to reveal the repulsor mounted on his palm. “Where is she? Tell me, or--” “I offer to help you and you threaten me? Perhaps I should not have--” “No, no, I’m sorry.” Tony lowered the weapon, calming himself. “You’re right. I’d appreciate any real help anyone in this place would care to give.” The alien nodded. “Very well. Follow me.” It stood, moving at first slowly, then with surprising speed, down the corridor. “What is this place?” Tony asked from behind. The alien glanced back at him momentarily, and Tony was sure he saw that odd smile return. “It is your entire universe, now, I’m afraid.” *** Tony had followed the green alien into a half-dozen establishments since they’d met. While he appreciated the help, so far it hadn’t amounted to much. He was beginning to lose hope. They exited one corridor and entered a wider concourse. Gazing around, he once again came to appreciate the immense scale of the station, with its multitude of other tunnels and corridors converging at this junction. Returning his attention to his new guide, he followed him down a short ramp and from there into a dimly-lit room along a side alley. The music was alien, as were the smells. Crowds of strange creatures, many humanoid, many more not, milled about tables. Another bar? Just like all the others we’ve been in. Tony tried to keep up with his green guide even as he took in as much as he could of the environment. “This is Kreejer,” the green alien was saying. Tony looked down. “Greetings.” The one called Kreejer peered up at Tony with unblinking eyes. It had three of them. And not much more. Tony involuntarily took a step back. He hadn’t expected to be seeking information from an amorphos purple blob in a box. “Ah, a new arrival,” Kreejer stated matter-of-factly. “They always react that way. I’m growing used to it.” Tony stepped closer again, staring at those three eyes. Three? Don’t even want to try to figure out how that setup evolved. “Hi,” he said weakly. “Pleased to meet you.” “Whatever.” Kreejer seemed to be studying him with two of the eyes, while the third strayed away. “That your actual exoskeleton, or are you only wearing it? I assume the latter.” “Yeah. It’s armor.” He flipped the faceplate up, exposing his face. Why not, he thought. It’s not like anyone here will be revealing my secret identity any time soon. “Ah. Nice. Very compact,” the creature was saying. “I’ve seen better, though.” Tony idly tried to figure out exactly where the voice was coming from. Then he remembered why he was here. He got to the point. “I’m looking for someone.” “The blue woman.” “Yes. You’ve seen her? Where is she?” “Slow down,” Kreejer replied casually. Two of the eyes focused on the green alien who had led Tony to the bar. “What’s he willing to trade?” The green alien shrugged. “Not sure what he has.” “How did you arrive?” Kreejer’s eyes --all three-- moved back to Tony. “Her spacecraft.” He realized where this was going. “Forget it. We’re not planning on sticking around, and we’ll need the ship.” “Did you hear that?” What must have been laughter bubbled up. “‘Not planning on sticking around!’” Kreejer laughed a bit longer. “That is amusing. As if a spacecraft could get you home, anyway.” Tony ignored him. “I’ll worry about that after I find Mon-Dria.” “Well, what else do you have to trade? The armor?” Tony drew back. “Sorry, pal-- it’s all I have. I’d have been dead by now without it.” Kreejer chuckled again, a disconcerting sound. “That is the most accurate statement you have made thus far.” Tony’s mind raced. “Trade... Ah!” He smiled and issued a cybernetic command, causing a small panel to slide open along his waist. He reached inside and withdrew a tiny device measuring less than an inch along each side. “You might like this.” He set it down on the table next to Kreejer. One of the eyes traveled over and studied it closely. “What is it?” “Watch.” Tony depressed a button on the top of the device. A golden spherical field materialized in the air, surrounding him, Kreejer, and the green alien. Immediately four big humanoids from nearby tables leaped to their feet and rushed the sphere, attempting to batter their way through it. “No, no, it’s alright,” Kreejer stated loudly. The four humanoids reluctantly ceased their attack, but stood ready, waiting. “I’m afraid you startled my bodyguards,” the little creature explained. “They can be quite zealous.” “With this, you’d be even safer,” Tony said. “You saw-- they couldn’t get through.” “Perhaps in time they could...” But Kreejer was obviously taken with the tiny field projector. “Turn it off.” Being sure not to mention that the device burned up batteries in only a short while—else he’d have incorporated it into his armor--Tony clicked it off. The sphere vanished. The bodyguards growled, eyeing him. “We have a deal,” Kreejer stated. “Turr?” One of the bodyguards stepped forward and picked up the device. “I will give you the information you require,” Kreejer told Tony. “But you may not like it. And I cannot help you further.” “Where is she?” Tony asked flatly. “She was abducted, I’m afraid, by one of the worst individuals I’ve encountered here. She’s been made a slave. She’s now the personal property of the chief slave trader.” Tony balled his fists. “What’s his name?” “Bal-Rogg.”
Next: Hour of the Wolf! SOCK IT TO SHELLHEAD! Hi again, gang. No letters thus far, so we'll dispense with the chitchat and just say, see ya back here in thirty days for the next chapter in the storyline unofficially dubbed, "A Distant Star!" Be sure to write--that is, if anyone out there's actually made it this far! --Van Plexico November, 2000 Story © 2000 by Van Allen Plexico |