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MV1 #78 DECEMBER Year 50

by Sam Everett

“Renewal: Part Three”

Earth orbit:

Uatu, former Watcher of Earth and current guide to Oleeta--the future Watcher of Earth--stood alone in the observation lounge of the Avengers’ starport, the space station that orbitted Earth and housed one portion of the planet’s mightiest heroes.
 
And those heroes, along with all of the others on the shining blue planet below him, occupied his mind this day as he watched the stars creep by the rotating station.
 
“According to the Council of Watchers, I am destined for one of you,” he told the countless clusters of light in the black void of space, “though I know not which one.  In fifty years time--the span of a passing thought in the greater scheme of the universe--I am to leave these marvels of creation to Oleeta...against my will.”  The hiss of the door on the far side of the room stole Uatu’s attention for a brief moment as he watched the Avenger named Rage enter, though Rage could not notice Uatu in plain vision.
 
“Tell me, one of you,” Uatu looked back to the stars, “which of you I am to spend the rest of my days observing?  Moreover, tell me that those beings that reside in the reach of your brilliant glow--if any indeed do--are even half as wonderous as those that call the Earth their home.  If so, I will stay with you for eternity.  But I have been spoiled by this planet, and its people, and I fear that if I am not satisfied by what my eyes see in you in the coming eons, then I will do what no other Watcher has done, and I will resign my post, and return to these humans.”
 
Agony and shame tugged at each other inside Uatu--agony that he was to abandon Earth in fifty years, and shame that he had grown so attached to the heroes of the planet, despite the custom of non-interference his fellow Watchers boasted.
 
Even worse, over the course of the last fifty years, he had begun to notice that same attachment in his apprentice, Oleeta.  He feared that she would be tempted to break her oath just as he had in times passed, and it would be his fault, for perhaps he had not adequately mentored her.
 
And speaking of Oleeta, she entered the lounge hurriedly, excitement apparent on her face.  “Uatu, you’re missing it!”
 
“What is it, Oleeta?”
 
“An alien armada arrived fifteen minutes ago out of nowhere!” Oleeta exclaimed.  Already, Uatu noted, after just fifty years she had adopted the humans’ informal speech patterns.  “They wouldn’t respond to the Avengers’ communications, and some of the Avengers are going to board one of the ships that they tractored into the port!”
 
“Then let us watch,” Uatu said, starting for the exit.
 
“This is big!” Oleeta said giddily.  “This is...awesome!”

Once one of the several dozen alien vessels was secured into the starport’s forty feet long enclosed docking strip, Ant-Man, Wonder Man, and Havok boarded the vessel.  They carried no weapons; the combined might of size-shifting powers, superstrength, and cosmic bursts would be enough to subdue any creature, they estimated.
 
“It’s like ‘Rocky Eight’ bein’ on this ship!” Ant-Man smiled.
 
“I don’t think I ever saw that one,” Wonder Man replied.
 
“You’re kidding, Simon!” Ant-Man said.  “‘Stallion in Space!’  It’s a classic!”
 
Havok sighed out of frustration. “Blabbermouth, just like your dad, huh, Matt?  Remind me, why did I bring you along instead of Machine Man?”
 
Ant-Man continued to lead the three men down the strip.  “It’s either because I’m the most brilliant biochemist on the planet--the youngest as well, I might add--or it’s because I was blessed with both of my parents’ natural reflexes and good looks.”
 
After completing the jaunt across the long corridor, the three Avengers emerged onto the alien ship, and marvelled at the technology present on the ceiling, the walls, everywhere aboard--glowing green strips flowed seemlessly along the internal hull, and acted as what appeared to be controls.  There was no obvious light source, yet the three heroes were swallowed in a green hue.
 
“Pretty advanced,” Wonder Man aknowledged.
 
“Don’t touch anything,” Havok commanded.  “That goes double for you, Ant-Man.”
 
“Hey Alex, I bet I could shrink down and pull that stick out of your butt for you, if you like,” Ant-Man laughed.
 
“Keep walking, mite,” Havok said, still gazing around him at the technology.  He was an old and experienced man, but even having been exposed to the Shi’ar, the Phalanx, the Kree, the Moorite, he had never seen anything like what he saw on this ship.
 
Without warning, a booming rumble came over the craft, filling the men’s ears, but hardly vibrating the ship itself.
 
“I think they know we’re on board,” Wonder Man warned.
 
“I didn’t touch nothin’ Al!  I swear!” Ant-Man mocked over the din of the ship’s growl.
 
“Shut up, Ant-Man,” Havok said calmly, curiousity apparent on his face.  “The noise--it’s fading,” he noted, cocking his head to catch more of the sound.
 
“What could it be?” Wonder Man asked.
 
“I don’t know.  We better alert the rest of the Avengers, tell them--”
 
At last, the rumble faded to a stop, and the ship reverted back to its original state of silence.
 
“Nevermind that alert,” Havok said, and started down the corridor of the emerald-lit ship.  “That was strange.  Let’s split up and--”
 
Before Havok could finish, he was interrupted by the hiss of energy emition, and turned to see Ant-Man nearly fused to the wall, his legs burnt down to the bone, his voice crying in pain.  Havok attempted to gauge the attacker, but the rising haze of the energy burst hid the man from his sight.
 
A second later, Wonder Man leaped toward the assailant, and was answered with more powerful assault from the attacker, leaving no physical trace of the ionic Avenger.
 
And as Havok’s eyes met the red glow of the attacker’s weapon, he finally caught a glimpse of the man, and realized that this was no alien invader at all.  It was someone quite familiar, in fact.  He could hardly believe his eyes.
 
“You?!  What are--?!”
 
Havok’s curiousity died with him, as a stream of blazing energy tore through his body.  But as he took his last breaths, he was mostly curious as to what the source of the mysterious light above him was, and who the raven-haired woman stepping out from the light and toward him could be.
 
And his body involutarily released all of the cosmic energy stored inside, which ripped through the top of the alien ship.  That one errant blast inspired a series of other explosions along the docked ship, and those explosions set off another series along the docking strip that connected the burning ship to the Avengers’ starport.  Before the remaining seven Avengers on the port could escape, fire raced through the port’s chambers, until it reached the central core, where it ignited the power source and forced a whine from the erupting starport that could be heard even on the far side of the Earth.
 
And then, there was silence, as debris floated softly where the starport once sat.  And only a few hundred kilometers away, the remaining alien ships in the armada hovered as well, their intentions no more clear to the people of Earth than they had been minutes earlier.

Uatu and Oleeta appeared in the study of the Xavier Mansion, hardly feeling the singe of the starport’s explosion.
 
“They killed the Avengers!” Oleeta explained. “How could they?!”
 
“Oleeta...” Uatu scolded.
 
“They weren’t hurting them!  I hope the rest of the Avengers blow those aliens out of the sky!”
 
“Oleeta!  Enough of that talk.”
 
She fumed at Uatu’s command, but tried to keep herself calm, despite the deaths of a handful of her favorite heroes.
 
“Why are we here?” Oleeta asked, her tone more placid, attempting to change the subject.
 
“Does it matter?” Uatu said.  “Would you rather be on the Avengers’ starport?”
 
Oleeta’s large eyes narrowed as she glared at Uatu jadedly.
 
In that same study, Jean Grey-Summers and Pietro Maximoff finished filling out their letters of appreciation to those who had helped them and the rest of the X-Men in recent months in passing the Mutant Liberation Act in Congress.  The act was a long time in coming, a result of Charles Xavier’s work in improving human/mutant relations by forming the X-Men sixty years ago.
 
“You mean to tell me that this MLA agreement is more important than a handful of Avengers being murdered by aliens?!” Oleeta exclaimed.
 
“Watch,” Uatu said.
 
“Done yet?” Pietro asked.
 
“Heh.  Nope,” Jean replied.  “It figures you’d be done first, though.”
 
“The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go out into the world, completely free of bias and persecution,” Pietro said.
 
“Well, I don’t know if it will be that easy, but....”
 
“Of course it won’t, but it’s a start--the best start mutants have ever had.”
 
As Jean put down her pen, she agreed, knowing that there was one letter she had not written--one person she could not thank enough for the mutants’ new liberty.
 
Her husband, Scott Summers.  Without him, how many mutants would have been killed in the passed fifty years?  How many humans, for that matter?  When Professor Charles Xavier died, Scott had taken over seamlessly, lifting the mutant cause that Xavier and his X-Men had fought for to new heights.  For the most part, humans and mutants had been getting along almost cordially, thanks in part to Scott and his work for the Dream.
 
And then, one day, with little warning, Scott left.  His father, Corsair, had returned to Earth seeking Scott’s help in battling an alien threat, and the ever-loyal Scott--trusting that Jean would sufficiently care for the X-Men in his brief absence--went with Corsair.
 
That “brief absence” had lasted seven years, so far.  Jean was almost convinced that he had died in space at some point, though she hoped beyond all hope that she was wrong.  After all, their grown daughter, Rachel, still missed her father.  Oh, if only he would return.
 
Jean’s thoughts were interrupted when the study’s large wooden door creaked open and revealed Christopher Blurlock--Redline, the mutant speedster who served as Jean’s informal aide.
 
“Yes, Christopher?” Pietro asked.
 
“The commvid feeds are reporting that the Avengers’ starport has been attacked by alien vessels.”
 
“When?!” Pietro asked
 
“Just a few minutes ago,” Redline replied with urgency.  “It sounds pretty bad.  I think it would be a good idea for you to send the Avengers the X-Men’s concerns.”
 
“Oh, of course,” Jean said.  The Avengers had been the X-Men’s allies for sixty years, and were very influential in passing the MLA, and she cared a great deal for her fellow superheroes.  “I’ll go right now.  Pietro, tell Bobby what’s going on.”
 
“I’m on my way.”
 
Jean closed her eyes and, in essence, she was gone from the room faster than both of the speedsters combined.

“Turn it up, Marshall!”
 
“...is Darla Botts for Commvid One news, looking for reaction to this morning’s attack on the Avengers’ starport, and the apparently imminent invasion by the alien armada floating just outside of Earth’s orbit.  Sir, what do you think of today’s events?”
 
“It’s bloody sick, I say!  It just figures, y’know?  I mean, here we make some sorta piece with the mutants, and then the aliens come along!  Earth just can’t win!”
 
“And you, sir?  What are your thoughts?”
 
“Well, why are we still worryin’ about this?  Why are those alien scumbag ships still UP there?  Is the spandex brigade too scared to go up there and take ‘em down?  I’ll tell you, the heroes have gotten too comfortable in the last few years without much to do.  HERE’S something!  Now get off yer butts!”
 
“Ma’am?”
 
“Yeah!  And if the heroes don’t do it, by God, we will!”
 
“Those aliens’ days are numbered!”
 
“And there you have it, folks.  It appears that the armada’s intentions are clear to these people, and that they want to see--”
 
“Turn it off, Marshall,” Bobby Drake said.  “That’s all I need to see.”
 
“What’s yer problem, Bobby?” Marshall Darkholme--the Nightstalker--asked as he flicked the switch on the commvid viewer and turned on the couch to face the X-Men’s field leader, Iceman.
 
“Nothin’.  Just...some bad memories.”  Bobby sighed.
 
“Aw, come on, old man!” the blue-furred Marshall whined.  “This is our night to celebrate!, celebrate!, and par-tay down!  It’s the MLA Bash!  We’ve been waiting years for this!”
 
“Ask Luna, Marsh.  I’m not in the mood anymore.”  As he left the living room, Iceman’s tone turned colder than his crystalized skin.

At the summons of Captain America, Jean appeared before the Avengers, once again in her astral form, this time in the meeting chambers of the Avengers’ mansion.  She was greeted by the faces of the Avengers at the table in the center of the room: Ms. America, Variable, Cardinal, Beast, Nomad, Moondragon, and at the head, Captain America.
 
“We’ve made our decision,” Captain America started, referring to Jean.  “We’re going to attack the aliens.”
 
“Are you sure, Cap?” Jean asked.  “Have you considered--?”
 
“--we’ve considered everything, Jean,” Cap said.  “The armada killed ten Avengers in cold blood.  Maybe they felt threatened when the Avengers boarded one of their ships, but there’s no way to know, since they have failed to answer our hails, before and after the incident.”
 
“Then how can we attack them without knowing their intentions?” Jean said.
 
“So far, we’ve got nothing telling us that they’re here on friendly terms, and everything saying they want us killed,” Cardinal replied.  “You don’t propose that we just wait for them to attack the planet, do you?”
 
“No,” Jean said, holding back anger at Cardinal’s tone.  “I’m proposing that we wait to find out what their intentions ARE.”
 
“I was going to ask for the X-Men’s help in the attack,” Captain America said.  “I don’t understand where all this dissent is coming from, Jean.”
 
“Have you watched the commvid reports, Cap?” Jean replied, more intensely than before.  “These aliens never stood a chance, from the time the Avengers boarded their ship to now.  For all we know, they are a peaceful culture who was caught off guard by the Avengers’ presence, and now they’re just scared!”  She paused to take a breath and calm herself.  “I...I just don’t want to see them persecuted for being misunderstood, and at this point, that’s a risk that we’re running by attacking them.”
 
“I see where you’re coming from,” Beast said, his fur white with age.  “No one knows more about persecution than you or I, Jean.  But--”
 
“--don’t say anything else, Hank.  I can’t allow the X-Men to participate in this attack, Cap.  I can’t let them be responsible for this witchhunt.  And I urge you, don’t let the Avengers either.”
 
Jean let that be her last statement as her image dissolved from the room, leaving Captain America to ponder her position, and consider her plea--he at least owed his old friend that much.

The Manhattan headquarters of the All Winners Squad, fifteen minutes later:

Marvel stomped into the war room of the young All Winners Squad’s headquarters, his long brown hair flowing above the blue and white cape that matched the rest of his outfit.
 
“It’s a go.  Cap wants us to lead the charge,” he boomed.
 
“Great!  But tell me again...why us?” Winning Streak asked.
 
“Cuz, you dip, we’re the best,” Punisher touted through her full, red lips.
 
“The Vellion is quite a vessel,” Keeper of the Darkness agreed.  “It should be capable of initiating a formidable first strike against the alien armada.”
 
“Yeah, but we’re gonna have help, right?” the flaming Fireblast asked.
 
“Oh, sure, babe,” Marvel replied.  “The Avengers, the Force, the Champions, the Globalstars, they’ll all be right behind us.”
 
“Then what are we waitin’ for?” Gold Arrow asked, slinging a laserbow into his sack and rising from his seat.  “Let’s blow some stuff up!”
 
“Freakin’ kid,” Punisher muttered as she cocked her rifle and marched with the rest of the team out of the complex.

Jean and Rachel Summers sat with each other in the silent study, awaiting word on Captain America’s final decision.  Rachel was hopeful that he had made the right choice; Jean was convinced he would not.
 
And Uatu and Oleeta awaited that decision in the same room, unbeknownst to Jean or Rachel.
 
“She’s going to get them all killed with her obstinance,” Oleeta seethed, staring down with disgust at Jean.  “How could she even think to let the armada remain?”
 
“It’s all a matter of her experience,” Uatu replied.
 
“Yes...she’s going to get them all killed,” Oleeta continued.
 
“Why are you doing this, mom?” Rachel asked.  “Is it because dad might be up there?”
 
Jean smiled at Rachel’s optimism.  “Partly.”  She paused, finding her words.  “Maybe I’m giving humanity too much credit, but I want to believe that we don’t have to hate anything--that we can give people who are different a chance.  Maybe this is the wrong time to go about doing it, but I don’t think so.  This is what the Dream is all about.  I’m not assuming I know what the armada’s intentions are, but I do know that they deserve a chance to tell us.  Everyone deserves that chance.  That’s what the X-Men are for.  That’s what we signed the MLA for--not just for mutants, but for everyone.  I don’t want to betray that document, or the Dream.”
 
“How far are you willing to go...you know...for that Dream?” Rachel asked.
 
Before Jean could answer, the door blew open, and a blur filled the room.  She expected Redline, but saw Pietro instead.  He surprised her with a stern look.
 
“How fare ARE you willing to go, Jean?  You’re willing to throw this all away?”  he asked accusingly.
 
“Now Pietro, he’s got a clear head on his shoulders,” Oleeta said, smiling with the speeding mutants arrival and resistance.

Jease rose from her seat.  “Pietro, what are you--”
 
“How dare you,” he spit.  “If word gets out that the X-Men refuse to attack the armada--refuse to save the planet--we’ll be ruined!  Our freedom is a fragile thing!  We’ll go right back to square one, hated, feared, and all the rest!”
 
“And the heroes will be dead!” Oleeta sided with Pietro, but was heard by no one but Uatu, whose face showed the most worry he had ever expressed.
 
“Oleeta, I suggest that--”
 
“Shhh! ’Watch,’” she mocked.
 
“Oh, come on, Petey,” Rachel barked, standing at her mother’s side.  “It’s not like that!”
 
“Oh, little girl, if you only knew what it was like,” he condescended.  “But you don’t.  Have you ever really been tormented because of who you were, or who your father was?  Your experience is nothing compared to mine.”
 
“That’s enough, Pietro,” Jean stood.  “It’s that kind of torment that I’m trying to prevent--are you too mad with glory to see that?  I’m sparing this armada of that torment!”
 
Pietro started to shout back, but caught himself, and then gave a smug grin.  “So that’s how it is, Jean?  If we attack the armada, they become the witches--if we save the armada, we become the witches?  That’s how far you’re willing to go, then?”
 
Another blur penetrated the room, this time in the crimson form of Redline, who sped into the study only out of urgency.  “Jean, the All Winners just launched the Vellion.  They’re about to attack the armada.”
 
“Oh, my,” Rachel gasped.
 
“Yes!” Oleeta shouted.
 
“Oleeta!” Uatu bellowed back futilely.
 
“And the Avengers aren’t far behind,” Redline continued.
 
Jean now asked herself, “How far am I willing to go?”  Was she willing to battle her friends and allies to save the lives of a potentially dangerous race?  And was she willing to live, once again, as an outsider, cursed and hated by humanity, all for an ideal?
 
And Oleeta now asked herself, “How far am I willing to go?”  Was she willing to break her oath to save the humans that she had unexpectantly come to adore?
 
And Uatu asked himself, “How far am I willing to let Oleeta take this?  If I intervene to prevent her from interfering, am I also at fault...have I also broken my oath?”
 
Their most natural replies gave them their answers.
 
“Redline,” Jean started.  “Tell Bobby to ready the Blackbird and the Thunderbird and intercept the Avengers’ attack.”
 
“No!” Pietro shouted!  “I won’t let you--”
 
Oleeta’s echoed Pietro’s cry as she dove for Jean, her cloak breezing by Uatu’s face.  She tried to knock Jean over, giving Pietro time to take control of the situation, but her force was interrupted by a grip on her cloak.  When it was clear that she had failed in her sudden attempt, she looked back into clear, reprimanding eyes.
 
“Uatu, you wretch!  Don’t try to stop me!  I can’t let her!”
 
Uatu forced her into his arms and carried her across the room, where he shoved her into the corner--surprising her with his strength--and held her there despite her angry whims.  And he continued to watch the humans, who were unaware that the two Watchers were even present.
 
“Pipe down, speedy!” Rachel said to Pietro, firing a bolt of telekinetic energy at the aged speedster, knocking him to the ground.
 
“Oh, and Redline?” Jean said.  “Tell Philadelphia that as long as they’re sending ships to attack the armada, they can shred the MLA agreement, too.”
 
Redline smiled, for he knew he was about to partake in an adventure the likes of which he had only heard told by his friends and teammates.
 
Once Oleeta lost the young man from her sight and to his mission, tears formed in her large eyes.  A war between the heroes and the accursed X-Men would ensue, and there was nothing she could do to stop it--thanks to the cursed Uatu.
 
“Why did you stop me?!” she screamed, only Uatu’s ears hearing it.  “Why did you do that?!”
 
He forced her further into the wall.  “Why...did YOU do that?  And why...why did you make me stop you?”  The words were hard to form--everything was harder to do, for he realized that as a mentor--as a Watcher--he was a failure.
 
And across the room, Jean’s smile mirrored Redline’s, for she had not failed. She had come through for the professor, and for Scott, and for mutants, and everyone else who had ever been persecuted.  She had been given the choice between a life of inclusion and life as an outcast, and when her choice was made, a dream was renewed.