The story so far… Clad in an experimental new suit of armor, designed for use in outer space, Iron Man encountered two battling starships in Earth orbit, and thereby met Mon-Dria, a female officer serving in something called the Kree Starfleet-in-Exile. Rescuing Mon-Dria after she had been ejected from her ship by her bitter enemy and rival, Bal-Rogg, Iron Man set out with her in pursuit of the villain. Caught up in a space warp of unknown origin, the Armored Avenger and the Kree beauty found themselves hurled across space and, apparently, time as well. They arrived at a gigantic space station, only to find Bal-Rogg already there, apparently for quite some time, and leading an underground organization dealing in the slave trade. Together, our heroes dealt Bal-Rogg a major setback, but with Iron Man’s armor nearly drained of power, they had no choice but to flee the slaver army… The Invincible by Van Plexico "FALLING TOWARD APOTHEOSIS"
At first he’d liked it, and had never felt in much personal danger—he did, after all, wear a suit of the most advanced armor anyone on his world had ever produced. But Mon-Dria, on the other hand… She possessed no armor, and her seeming vulnerability was only heightened by the scant clothing she now wore, courtesy of their encounter with Bal-Rogg. Reluctantly, Tony had to admit to himself that he was concerned for her well-being. He… cared about her, at least to some degree. This is the last thing I need to be thinking about right now, he told himself firmly, and diverted his eyes from the blue-skinned girl beside him, to the panorama below. The transport box climbed in a broad arc up the inside of the dome. Their angle prevented them from seeing the vastness of space beyond the dome’s surface, but the window provided a fine view down; the jungle canopy was a dull green blur far below, shrinking in the distance as they climbed. It was bugging him again. Raising his visor, he glanced at her. "Can you slow this thing down?" Mon-Dria glanced at Tony with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "Oh? You wish to move more slowly?" She looked him up and down. "I had the impression you were somewhat the... daredevil?" Tony reddened. "Yeah, well..." "Besides," she continued, gazing out at the open air of the domed area, "at this rate we will be across in mere hours." "Hours?" Tony groaned, rubbing his bleary eyes with his fists. He squinted out the window, watching the rows of massive light fixtures along the dome’s inside surface fly past. The ones closest to them were a blur of light as their transport continued to increase its speed. He banged his fist on the transparent pane. "This is ridiculous! We don’t even know where we’re going!" "We could not stay there," she reminded him. "But what good does this do us? We’re probably just getting farther from our ship!" Mon-Dria frowned, Tony followed suit, and the two sat there in silence for a while, as they sped across the inside of the dome. "Tony, one thing puzzles me," Mon-Dria finally said. "When did you meet that Kree-- the one with the clipboard-- before?" Tony blinked at her. "What?" "The Kree back there. With the clipboard. You both acted as if you’d met before." Tony blinked again. "Kree? What are you talking about? That guy was human." He laughed. "Pretty wimpy human, too." Mon-Dria stared at him quizzically. "I am confused. Tony, the man who confronted us back there was a Kree, like me. That is why I was so surprised." She shrugged. "Blue skin, all the usual traits. Rather regal, as well. Probably from a lower aristocratic line. The type that usually ends up in estate management positions." Iron Man exhaled sharply. "You’ve lost me now." His confused expression matched her own. "Mondy, that guy was one hundred per cent human back there." They stared at one another. "But that would mean we each saw a different person," Mon-Dria whispered. "How can that be?" Tony had opened his mouth to reply when he realized that the light around them had dimmed. He looked out the window. "Hey, look-- the lighting panels here don’t work." "They seem to be burned out across a large area of the dome," Mon-Dria agreed. "But all in the same--" She was interrupted by the ear-shattering screech of metal on metal. Within moments, their forward motion had dropped and then dwindled away to almost nothing. The scream of metal grinding away grew lower, deeper. Mon-Dria squinted at the control panel, her teeth clenched against the sound. "Power is gone. We’re stopping." "Another Dead Area?" Tony asked, extracting his fingers from his ears. "It would appear so. We have passed into it and lost our propulsion." "What’s with the noise?" He blinked, answering his own question. "Oh, yeah, the car must have been connected by some kind of magnetic seal. I used to have something similar at Stark International. Without the power..." "...The transport must be grinding itself into the rail," she finished for him. "Sounds like the rail and the connector just got eaten up," Tony observed. They hung, nearly motionless, from the underside of the dome, the jungle canopy a green blur far below. Then, with a jolt, the transport came to rest. The smell of smoke wafted into the cabin. Mon-Dria tapped a blue finger on her chin, studying the darkened control panel. "Suggestions?" Tony asked. She looked up at him, eyes wide. "I believe you would say, ‘bail out.’
They descended on a column of fire, Mon-Dria wrapped securely in Iron Man’s arms as his boot rockets* carried them gently down to the jungle surface. It took a few minutes to get down, and Tony steered for the largest clearing he could find, a low hill. As they neared the ground, he thought he saw movement, but wasn’t sure. His sensors, displaying inside his helmet, registered only a muddled jumble of heat and movement signatures in the vegetation below. Gripping his companion more tightly, he braced for landing. [* That’s right—"boot rockets." Tony’s still in his space armor, remember, effendi? --Van] The aliens crept out of the brush as he shut off his rockets and set Mon-Dria down. "Look out!" Iron Man became aware of the approaching creatures and quickly moved to position himself between them and Mon-Dria. They came in a rush, surrounding the two newcomers, and quickly fanned out. They were pale red, with generally humanoid features, though they sported long, slender noses and large eyes. They wore simple one-piece outfits which appeared to have been recycled from something else. None was over five feet tall. Before Iron Man could so much as say a word, they fell to their knees, heads down, moaning and chanting softly. Tony blinked, standing on guard, his weapons ready. He scanned over the readouts inside his helmet quickly; power levels had recharged somewhat, though he was still far from optimum. He shifted around, and saw that Mon-Dria was doing likewise, seeking to protect his back, although she was unarmed. The chanting grew louder. As he listened, Tony was amazed to discover he could understand the voices. He leaned his head back toward Mon-Dria. "You getting this?" "Yes. The translation seems to be working again. We must have passed out of the Dead Area. Perhaps it only affected the inside surface of the dome." She listened to the aliens. "It sounds as if they are... worshipping?" "Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too." At that point, an acceptable period of deference must have passed, because one of the creatures raised up into a hunched posture and shuffled forward. Iron Man tapped Mon-Dria on the shoulder and pointed. The creature stopped a fair distance away, eyes still downcast. "We welcome you to our land, goddess. We remain faithful and true, and will prepare the sacrifice to appease you." Iron Man watched him --was it a him?-- gesture to the others, and three of the red aliens ran back into the forest. "We respectfully ask, however..." The alien peeked up at them, then quickly cast his eyes down again. "We ask, why do you come in female guise this time? With a different herald? We... We simply wonder what this bodes for our tribe." He looked up again. "Are you displeased with us?" Tony opened his mouth to ask Mon-Dria if she knew what the hell the guy was talking about, but she was already speaking. Loudly. "I am not displeased with you. You show the proper respect, as ever." Inside his armor, Tony frowned. He glanced back at her. "Huh?" he whispered. She eyed him, saying nothing, but with her expression clearly stating, "Keep quiet." "We thank you, goddess." Mon-Dria nodded, once, regally. "What sacrifice do you prepare?" she asked. The alien looked puzzled. "The same as ever, goddess. The same you always come for, in your blue male guise." He turned back, motioning to the crowd, and the three who had departed moments before stepped out of the crowd again, leading a group of five more of the aliens. "Here they are. Five of our strongest, most able youngsters. They will serve you well, as I hope all the others previously have done." Mon-Dria growled low in the back of her throat, and Tony slowly put the pieces together. Blue male. A god. Able youngsters. Serve. Good lord, this is where Bal-Rogg harvested his slaves. Tony felt nauseous. Bal-Rogg had made them think he was a god, so they’d bring him their best workers. Tony began to wish even more that he’d gotten in a few shots on Bal-Rogg before leaving him to Kargorr. Kargorr... That must be the ‘herald’ the little guy mentioned. Great--now I’m his stand-in. Mon-Dria stepped forward, walking around the group of potential slaves and pretending to inspect them. Finally she stopped and turned to the apparent leader of the tribe again. "I find them splendid-- What is you name?" "You do not know it?" "I have many worshippers. Quickly-- your name." "Arhus, goddess." "Arhus, your sacrifice is acceptable. However, I return them to you." Arhus’s eyes widened--not an unimpressive sight. "In fact, I bring you news. News of your god’s demise." Arhus stumbled back a step or two. A low buzz emanated from the crowd as they realized what Mon-Dria had said. "The blue god Bal-Rogg will come for your people no longer. I have deposed him and replaced him. And I require no sacrifices." Arhus gaped at her for a long moment, then fell to his knees again, bowing down low. "I am Mon-Dria, and I wish to deal with you fairly. Do as I bid, and you will never have to send your young away again." "O Mon-Dria, we obey!" Arhus motioned toward the row of his people behind him, and they all bowed low as well. "You bring us most wonderful news," he continued. "We will do as you say." "You have an encampment nearby?" "Oh yes, goddess." Mon-Dria looked back at Iron Man, a slight smile playing over her features. "Lead us there. My herald will carry me." Tony gave her a look, half-visible beneath his helmet. Then he felt his stomach growling. "You guys have anything to eat?" he asked. "I’m starving."
He and Mon-Dria sat alongside the others at the periphery of a huge bonfire. The natives were roasting something large over a spit nearby. In addition to drinks, odd vegetables were being passed around, and after checking them as best he could with his armor’s sensors, he ate some of the less bizarre-looking ones. The beverages, of course, he avoided, other than what appeared to his sensors to be clean water. Mon-Dria had eventually joined him in partaking. Her fears of poisoning were mollified somewhat by Tony’s scanners, somewhat by Arhus’s statement that Bal-Rogg sometimes ate their food, and somewhat by Tony’s excellent argument that they’d starve to death anyway if they didn’t eat something soon. Despite Mon-Dria’s objections, Tony had finally removed his helmet. She had been afraid this would detract from his image as an Kargorr-like herald/enforcer. Instead, the natives actually seemed more afraid of him without the helmet. He found this fact somewhat annoying. Tony watched with amusement as two very young natives crept up beside him and ran their hands over his armor. They gawked at one another and did it again. Surrepititiously, Tony used an external fingertip control to pop a booster pod out the side of one of his big boots, and the two youngsters gasped and ran away into the darkness. He got a good laugh out of that one. Hey, if I'm the big, scary herald, I ought to act like it, he thought to himself, shrugging innocently at Mon-Dria. The Kree woman was seated nearby, close to the fire. Smoke wafted lazily out of it and blew towards her, but she hardly seemed to mind. As the smoke wrapped around Tony, too, he felt himself relaxing--perhaps for the first time since they'd arrived on the station. Mon-Dria glanced back at him, and actually smiled, if only slightly. Tony watched her, feeling exhausted. He couldn’t imagine how Mon-Dria kept going; they’d both been through so much, yet she scarcely showed the ill effects. How does she do it? He took a big bite from the melon that was offered to him, then another. Whoa. Strange stuff. He glanced at the lovely blue female beside him again. Great, finally a moment when we aren’t fighting for our lives, and I look like hell and feel worse. He found his eyes moving over her again. Look at her. She was attractive enough before --never realized how much I liked blue before-- and all that snowy hair, and those big eyes... Now she’s dressed as some kind of fantasy slave girl, for crying out loud! What am I supposed to be thinking? She’s gorgeous! After a while of watching the revelry and partaking of the food--though not the stronger drink--in fair measure, Tony began to feel even more light-headed. The smoke from the fire swirled around them both, evocative of spices and jungle depths. He turned to Mon-Dria, sliding a bit closer. He moved his hand very near to hers on the log. "I’ve been meaning to tell you this," he started. Mon-Dria’s broad blue eyes met his own. She appeared perfectly sober, perfectly serious. "Yes, Tony?" "Um..." He blinked. Not fair! Does she ever loosen up? "Er... Nevermind." She stared at him a moment, shrugged, and turned back to the fire and the festivities. He sensed unaccustomed depression welling around him and welcomed it. The encampment, lit up by the big bonfire, seemed to be slowly spinning around him anyway. He took another drink from the water skin. A hand fell on his shoulder opposite Mon-Dria. He turned. The tribe’s leader, Arhus, stood there, behind the log. "Excuse me." "Yes?" From what Tony could tell, he seemed embarrassed. "I, er, couldn’t help but notice..." He moved closer, whispering in Tony’s ear. "You--you wish to-- You and the goddess... Um..." "You noticed that?" Tony fixed the alien with a bleary-eyed stare. "And--?" Arhus’s eyes widened. "But--she is a goddess! How can you hope to--?" Tony chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "Gotta have high standards, my friend." He met the alien’s eyes again. "Hey, I’m a herald, right? Why not a goddess for me?" Arhus appeared confused by this. He stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment, but, apparently finding no reason to contradict this thinking, he eventually looked back up at Tony. "Well... Then... Perhaps I can help you. Of course, she is a goddess, and I’m not at all convinced that this is the wisest course of action, but..." Tony waited patiently. A sigh of resignation. "These are for you," Arhus said, proffering two skins of drink. "They have brewed many days and nights. The finest of the batch." He gave them what seemed to be a mischievous nod. "This has always kept our tribe a happy group. Perhaps they will... cause the goddess to look upon you with greater favor, shall we say." "Ah!" Tony eyed the proffered containers, his head spinning. "Um..." He started to reach for them...and then his rational mind reasserted itself with a bang. "No. No, thanks, Arhus." The red alien seemed nonplussed, but bowed anyway, shuffling away. "Jeez," Tony muttered to himself, somewhat disappointed. The local moonshine. He just wanted me to get her drunk. Great. Weren’t you in my frat in college, Arhus? Mon-Dria stood and lithely moved to where Tony sat. She squatted beside him. "This smoke seems to be affecting my mental faculties," she stated distractedly. "I've noticed that, too," he replied, absently wondering how she could seem so unaffected if that were the case. "In the meantime," he said, "I've been thinking about our next move." "I have been giving that subject considerable thought, as well" she replied softly. "It seems to me that our first priority should be to escape from this dome and get back to the part of the ship where we first entered. However, we have no way of knowing which direction would lead us there." Tony nodded, trying to gather his thoughts. "Yeah, that occurred to me, too." He glanced up at the star-filled sky, visible through the huge dome. "So..." The night exploded in light. Tony and Mon-Dria leapt to their feet instantly, even as the explosion faded and darkness fell around the encampment again. Another light appeared from over the trees, shining down into the clearing. Then the sound reached them-- a mechanical whine. "Some kind of vehicle," Mon-Dria called out as the sound grew louder. "It is Bal-Rogg! He lives!" someone shouted. Some of the red aliens cried out and ran for the woods. "Here it comes!" Tony snapped his helmet on and brought his repulsors to bear. Beyond the bonfire, a hovering vehicle the size of Mon-Dria’s spacecraft --about sixty feet long-- dropped into the clearing, lights shining from three ports, spotlights flaring. "We are seeking the blue female and the armored male," the voice boomed out over an address system. "We know they are in the vicinity. Turn them over to us and we will spare your settlement." "Those dirty--!" Iron Man started to surge forward. Mon-Dria restrained him momentarily, then addressed Arhus and the others. "Bal-Rogg is gone," she called out. "These men seek to overthrow my new reign." "They are not gods?" Arhus asked skeptically. "No. They are former followers of Bal-Rogg, but they have no powers themselves." Arhus looked from Mon-Dria to the vehicle and back, apparently considering. Beyond the fire, the craft settled to the ground and two hatches popped open. Ragged slaver troops dashed out, weapons ready. The remaining natives stood about, some moving into submissive postures, others seeming ready to fight, and still others less certain. "If being a slave is all you want to be," Iron Man yelled to them, "then keep on standing there!" With a cry, he launched himself at the slavers, repulsors blazing. His crimson-clad fists flashed as he smashed through the ranks of slavers, even as more still disembarked from the aircraft and overwhelmed him, obscuring him from view. Mon-Dria looked back at Arhus, met his eyes. She could read the uncertainty there--this was as much his fight as anyone's, but would he and his people act? As a cry went up from the slavers, she
turned and followed after Iron Man into the heat of
battle. "Enough of this!" she cried. "Whether
I live to escape this madhouse or not, the legacy of
Bal-Rogg's evil ends NOW!" Next: Shellhead and Mondy escape the
station at last-- one way or another...! Join us in one
short month for-- SOCK IT TO SHELLHEAD! Jeff S. writes: --Van Plexico Atlanta, Georgia Story © 2000 - 2001 by Van Allen Plexico |