---

Unknown space, Two weeks ago

Kurt often found himself marvelling and how much their years in space had changed the group. The five of them, six if you counted baby Yana, had endured years within the confines of this ship, the Xavier, as they battled the Brood.

Some changes brought a smile to the blue mutant’s lips, like the relaxed, cheerful attitude Scott had adopted, or the confident young woman Kitty had grown into. Not all the changes were pleasant though; Storm, who was not fond of the tight spaces of the ship, spent most of her time in her simulated loft and often suffered from bouts of depression. Then of course there was Piotr, years of witnessing the Brood’s evil had slowly destroyed the massive Russian’s poetic spirit, leaving him an angrier, cynical man. It pained Kurt to see how his relationship with Kitty had declined in the past year, he had hoped that the birth of their baby Yana, named for Piotr’s sister Illyana, would bring them back together but this was not the case.

He often forgot to look at himself the way he saw his friends, when he did he saw a reckless swashbuckler who often risked his life needlessly, a far cry from his early days with the X-men. He shook the thoughts from his head.

That never happened, not to me, he thought.

“Thunk!” Something banged against to hull of the ship.

“Open the viewing screen Kitty,” said Scott.

Metal shutters separated, revealing outside space to those on the bridge. A large, dead Brood floated past them, quickly followed by another.

“I’m picking up an Acanti Scott, no heat signature though, it’s well and truly dead,” Said Kitty.

“Make a course for it, please.”

The gigantic space whale, the chosen vessel of the Brood, was clear within a few minutes. A massive gash along its side was the likely cause of death, though its body was also pockmarked with multiple burns.

“By the Goddess, there are more,” exclaimed Storm, pointing to port. At least a dozen dead Acanti drifted in orbit around a planet.

“Who would do this?” wondered Kurt.

“What does it matter as long as they kill bugs?” asked Piotr derisively.

“Just because they kill the Brood doesn’t mean they aren’t enemies to us too mein freund,” replied Kurt.

As if on cue, a trio of needle nosed ships seemingly made of black crystal shimmered out their cloaking fields and fired upon the Xavier.

---

Present day, Milky Way Galaxy, aboard the Swooping Talon

After the destruction of Naladas the Starjammers had carried the three injured Imperial guardsmen until it was revealed they were travelling to the capital of the Clench Union, Standing Still, a place where the guardsmen would likely not be welcomed. Gladiator, not wishing to leave his Empress unprotected for too long immediately took flight towards Chandillar, leaving Starbolt and Titan on a nondescript trading world to await transportation.

Capable of self propelled hyper speed travel, the Praetor of the Imperial Guard made good progress until he came across a damaged Shi’ar Destroyer. According the ship’s captain, General F’Dor, the Swooping Talon had been seriously damaged by a Brood armada during a rescue operation and had been undergoing repairs for the past month.

“Might I enquire as to why Her Highness’ chief protector is so far from the throneworld?” asked F’Dor.

“I was abducted against my will to battle an immensely powerful foe,” replied Kallark, as the pair entered the bridge.

“I take it from your presence before me that you were the victor?”

“Dragoon was defeated, but not by my hand. The beast was too powerful even for me. I…failed,” Kallark looked at his hands as if he was realising they were flesh and bone for the first time, “I believe him to be the Drinker of Souls long prophesized by the Aerie seers.”

F’Dor had no time for prophetic nonsense, though he did not make these feelings clear to the powerful Gladiator, instead he replied, “If you could not defeat such a foe then surely no one could.”

“Unfortunately we were forced to destroy the entire planet to defeat him, if it weren’t for the help of the Starjammers…”

“The Starjammers?! You have seen them?” F’Dor could barely keep the hatred from his voice.

“Yeah they provided us transport for a time until we decided myself and my fellow guardsmen would not be welcome on Standing Still, why do you ask?”

“Oh no reason, I was just heard a rumour they were dead,” replied the general, “come, let us get you fed and rested before you continue your journey.”

F’Dor pondered this unexpected little gem of information; the Starjammers were on Standing Still, and no one would stop him from destroying the pirates once and for all.

---

Unknown Space

Even after several years working for Astra in space, Fallout still felt utterly insignificant every time he looked out upon the great black void.

“Space, the final frontier,” muttered the mutant.

“You are wrong, child...death is the final frontier, one I do not intend to explore for a very long time,” said Dragoon, causing Fallout to almost leap out of his containment suit in fright.

“How goes the construction of my armada?” asked the self proclaimed god.

“G…good, Lord Dragoon. Several more nomad tribes have agreed to join your cause and we have seized ten deadly vessels that were in transit nearby. Their occupants stated they were from a planet called the Breakworld.”

“I know that world,” said the god. "They were backwards savages who yielded to my will when I last ruled, and they will once again." He clenched his fist as if he was crushing the Breakworld in his hand.

Fallout was constantly in awe of Dragoon’s power. When Naladas had exploded, Dragon had erected a force field around himself, Fallout and the cultists which, amazingly, withstood the blast. The group were left floating in empty space until the god used his newfound magnetic powers to pull a ship to them and take over it. In two weeks, through many displays of awesome power, the God-Made-Flesh had gathered a following of over five hundred ships and an army of thousands.

“Do you have a father, child?” asked Dragoon.

Fallout, surprised by the question, took a moment to respond. “Yes. He’s a plumber back on Earth.”

“My father once told me only tyrants and gods leave their mark on the universe. I became both and yet, after two millennia, my mark has faded into obscurity,”

Fallout, unsure as to whether or not a god could have a father, remained silent.

Speaking to the stars rather than to Fallout, the armored god stated, “This time I shall make sure I am not so easily forgotten.”

---

Standing Still, capital of the Clench Union, Shi’ar Galaxy

“There she is Z’Cann, a jewel in space,” said Raza, with a rare smile.

Standing Still, often known as 'The World With No Borders', was the capital of the Clench Union, a loose affiliation of worlds composed mainly of refugees from Shi’ar conquests. The Union was dedicated to neutrality and peace, despite the fact the majority of the population had suffered at the hands of the Shi’ar. A treaty signed by Empress Lilandra ensured the safety of the worlds so long as they caused no harm to the Shi’ar, though Lilandra’s rumored madness put this peace is question.

“Are you sure I will be welcomed here? I am a Skrull,after all,” asked Z’Cann. A large portion of the Clench’s population was Kree, who held an age old enmity with the Skrulls. In fact, it was because of the Skrull’s deceit that ninety percent of the Kree populace was destroyed by a Shi’ar nega-bomb.

“All people are welcome on Standing Still, but should anyone be less than welcoming then you have my word that no harm will come to you,” smiled Raza again.

Z’Cann had noticed the cyborg was smiling a lot more these days, and his nightmares were fewer. She attributed this to their growing friendship. Due to her telepathy, the Skrull found she had a deep sensitivity to his feelings. Raza was a troubled man, with a painful past but, despite that,he was noble and pure, something she respected greatly. He also understood her loss: the death of her team mates, Cadre K, had affected her greatly, but time and Raza’s friendship were healing those emotional wounds.

“Come, let us join the others on the bridge,” said Raza.

On the bridge, Corsair couldn’t help but contain his smile at the sight of Standing Still. The peaceful world was the closest thing to a home he had these days, and it signified contentment and relaxation.

“It’s good to be back, hey Hepz?” said Chris to his lover, Hepzibah. “I can’t wait to sit by our fire and drink a glass Kree wine again,”

Hepzibah didn’t reciprocate her lover’s feelings; to her the world meant boring weeks of doing nothing. 'R and R', Corsair called it, whatever that meant. The Mephistoid wanted danger and excitement, risking their lives against the 'Birdies'was what she wanted. But at least she and Christopher were happy once again, as the past month had been rough on them, mainly due to her hatred of the Shi’ar.

“It will be grreat,” she lied.

As Waldo brought the ship in for landing, the pair were joined by the rest of the crew, even Sikorsky. The dragonfly-like alien flitted around the bridge in a state of excitement.

“Oh, it shall be so good to be back on solid land and away from any Brood or Shi’ar or any other ghastly creatures,” exclaimed Sikorsky.

The others merely smiled; the doctor was an avid complainer but he was always there when the Starjammers were ready to return to their missions. Upon landing, the group were greeted by Helek, one of Standing Still’s leaders, and his son, Keeyah.

“Happy returns, Starjammers,” said Helek, with arms wide open in greating. “We feared you dead after receiving reports that your ship never made it to the refugees on Hala.”

“We were intercepted by a Shi’ar Destroyer and got a little lost I’m afraid,” replied Corsair.

“How is the old girl these days?” asked Keeyah, gesturing towards the ship. The Kree had actually served as the Starjammer’s pilot for a time when Waldo was out of commission, but he stepped down when the computer was finally repaired.

“Sshe’s had a rough trip, but the Sstarjammer’ss tough,” replied Ch’od, the ship’s technician. “Waldo’s blown a few circuitss, though, and is being a royal pain in the glatch.”

Keeyah laughed. “Well, if you need a real pilot to replace that digitized bore, you know where to find me.”

“Passed out under a table no doubt, with your pitiful organic tissue saturated with various alcohols…error 404, file not found,” Waldo’s comment, from a nearby speaker, left Keeyah with his jaw hanging open.

“He’s more…chatty these days,” said Corsair.

Helek noticed Z’Cann for the first time and asked, “What is this? Another lovely female has joined the Starjammers?”

“This is Z’Cann,” said Raza. "She has become an important part of our team.”

Helek gripped the Skrull’s shoulder in a typical Clench greeting and said, “Welcome.” Z’Cann, clearly surprised to receive such a warm welcome from a Kree, simply smiled gratefully.

“Come, you must be longing to return to your home and hearth,” said Helek jovially. “I know Keeyah has been looking forward to beating you in more drinking challenges, Christopher.”

“I’ve already said there’ll be no more drinking games with your son until he removes one of his bladders. I’m a strong believer in a fair fight,” Corsair joked.

Helek and Keeyah led the group down several streets and pathways in the Mediterranean style city and Z’Cann was surprised at what she saw: there were dozens of different races all living side by side in apparent harmony. The streets were clean and people walked them without fear; she even saw a Skrull and a Kree sharing a joke.

By skimming people’s thoughts she soon learned that most people who came to Standing Still, and other Clench worlds, were searching for a life without hostility. Nearly every race here had experienced a lifetime of war, subjugation or prejudice; Standing Still was like a utopia where everybody was family.

It can’t be totally perfect, said her cynical side.

Up ahead, a crowd was building in a large courtyard. Curious as to what would cause such a large group of people to gather, Helek lead the group to the edge of the congregation. Someone could be heard shouting above everybody else; in the centerof the courtyard, on a small stage, stood a large Mephistoid.

“…we werre drriven frrom our homes, or locked away for not agreeing to theirr forced ‘marriage’,” he shouted and those surrounding him vocally agreed. Those towards the edge of the courtyard must have been less caught up in the angry proclamations, as they quietly muttered among themselves.

“The Shi’arr have destrroyed our peoples and what do we do? We hide away here on this little planet!” yelled the Mephistoid. “We must strrike back!” The crowed cheered even louder.

“Who is this idiot?” asked Corsair.

“People call him Hrrar,” replied Keeyah. “That’s the closest we can manage to actually pronouncing his name anyway.”

“He’s been here a few weeks, a real trouble maker, but he’s never caused anything like this before,” said Helek nervously.

Hrrar continued to shout. “I have rreceived word that a grreat being named Dragoon is building a mighty arrmy in the Spiral Galaxy to destroy the Shi’ar. Let us join them and eradicate the Shi’arr once and for all.”

The mention of Dragoon gained the full attention of all the Starjammers.

“So he’s not dead,” said Corsair grimly. “Cpme on, let’s get out of here before this nutter starts a riot.”

Only Hepzibah lingered behind for a few moments, staring at the first male of her species she had seen since she was a cub.

---

Four Sacred Streams, Milky Way Galaxy

In his several days upon the Clench world known as Four Sacred Streams, the cloaked figure had not seen any streams, let alone four sacred streams. The thought came as a pleasant distraction to the man, as the past two weeks had been non-stop running and hiding from his mysterious pursuers.

The small bundle in his arms shifted and made a small cry so he weaved his way out of the crowded street and into a shady alley. It was then that the alarm sounded: a piercing wail that cut through the air. The people burst into a panic, immediately searching the skies for any sign of alien attack, and cried out in fear when they saw the ships descending from the sky.

“Damn it!” He'd been sure he’d lost his pursuers days ago but it would appear he was wrong; they wouldn’t give up until they had his body on a dissection table.

People cried out in terror as dozens of black, crystalline ships descended over the city.

---

The Great Library of Standing Still

Books...if there was one thing Hepzibah couldn’t stand above all else it was books. She was a woman of action; books were for dusty old men with too much time on there hands, in her opinion. Christopher knew this and still he dismissed her complaints as he dragged her and the rest of the Starjammers to Standing Still’s great library to do research on Dragoon.

The library was like a mausoleum for words; it was huge and filled with books, scrolls, holodisks and a hundred different types of media from a thousand different worlds, and yet no-one came here. Barely anyone was interested in the past these days, everybody looked to the future. Hepzibah thought both philosophies were stupid: life was in the present, not in the past or the future; it is today that matters not yesterday or tomorrow.

“Here’s something,” said Z’Cann, looking up from a tome bigger than she was. “...and so Dragoon, the Doombringer, bathed in the blood of our world, showing us he is the one true god. From that day forth, the Breakworld followed our mighty Lord’s divine will…well that didn’t help much.”

“Itss all religious propaganda, nothing of any use,” complained Ch’od.

“Well, they say history is written by the victors,” said Corsair, “but there has to be something in these old records…”

Rather than leafing through her musky old book, Hepzibah let her mind wander; she couldn’t help but think about Hrrar, the male Mephistoid she had seen earlier that day. It had been so long since she’d seen one of her own kind, especially a male, that she’d almost forgotten what one looked like. The urge to go talk to one of her own kind was too strong so, when everyone was too engrossed in their books to notice, she stealthily slipped out of the room.

Outside, the moon was full and high, illuminating the empty streets and allowing her to easily backtrack to the large courtyard where she had first seen Hrrar. Thousands of scents assaulted her senses but one dominated them all: Hrrar’s. His scent was powerful, intoxicating even, and easily followed the seven blocks to his home. The house was much better then she expected; Hrrar must be wealthier than she thought, or else he was a squatter.

A single light was on in a second story window, from which his powerful scent wafted down. Without thinking, the woman deftly scaled the wall and climbed through the window.

“Hello, I have been waiting for you,” Hrrar sat in a large chair across the room, seemingly unsurprised by her trespassing.

“You have?” asked Hepzibah, immediately suspicious.

“Of courrse. As soon as I saw you in the courrtyard today I knew we would seek each otherr out.” He rose from his chair and casually strode across the room until he was mere inches from Hepzibah, and she did not back away.

“We are kindred spirits you and I,” he whispered. “It is only natural we are drawn together.”

She fought it but deep down she knew it was right. Being so close to this male was having a strange affect on her; she wanted him, she needed to be with this man. It was like a blind person seeing for the first time, Hrrar was…overwhelming. Before she knew what she was doing she was kissing him with an animalistic passion, the sensation was electric, like nothing she’d ever felt before.

All thoughts of anything but Hrrar faded from her mind, she was his.

---

Hours later…

“Hepzibah, where in blazes are you?” asked Corsair into his comm device.

The Mephistoid should have been able to hear him anywhere on the planet; her lack of reply most likely meant she was mad at him again. A hint of worry nagged at the back of his mind as he searched the dawn lit streets for his lover, what if she in trouble?

“Kreestoffer, I am here,” Hepzibah stood in the doorway of a nearby building, languishing in the light of the sunrise.

“Oh, Hepzibah, I’m glad I found you in time. We need to go: Four Sacred Streams in under attack and they need every ship available to help."

A pained look flashed across her features. “I…I can’t go with you, Kreestoffer. My place is herre.”

“What are you talking about, Hepz?” Chris was concerned; he’d never seen his lover so conflicted.

“I cannot leave, herre I must be,” she said with tears in her eyes. “My place is with Hrrar, one of my own kind.”

It was that moment that Hrrar chose to step out of the shadows behind Hepzibah with a smug grin on his face.

“Hepzibah, this is nuts!” stated Corsair. "You’ve only just met this guy; we’ve been together for nearly twenty years!”

“She’s made herr choice, human; she wants to be with someone worthy now,” said Hrrar smugly.

“Worthy?!” Corsair drew his laser pistol. “I’ll give you worthy, you sack of…”

A lancing pain erupted in his left cheek as Hepzibah slashed him with her claws. Bewildered, Corsair was speechless as he watched his own blood drip from her fingertips.

“You stupid glatch, its over!” she shouted, her sadness replaced by rage. “Hrrar will stand against the Birrdies like you never would. He is of my kind, we owe it to ourr people to be together!”

“But Hepizbah, I love…”

“Just go, Kreestoffer! Go back to Errth and be happy. Leave me alone!”

The Mephistoids stepped back inside the house and slammed the door with a resounding thud, but not before Hrrar shot him a look that Chris easily read as 'come near us again and I will disembowel you'.

Christopher felt numb; it was as if some higher power had removed his insides and replaced them with cotton wool...he felt nothing. The hustle and bustle of the street sounded as if it was miles away as the heartbroken captain walked away from the woman who had been part of his life for nearly two decades. In what could have been ten minutes or ten hours he found himself standing before the Starjammer; it wasn’t a conscious decision to go there, his feet simply operated of their own accord.

“…did you hear me, Captain? I ssaid we’re ready for take off whenever you are." Ch’od was there next to him, his large green hand resting on the Captain’s shoulder. Corsair looked at him like he was something in the distance.

“Did you find Hepsssibah, Captain?” asked the Saurian.

It was then that the feeling came rushing back, someone removed the cotton wool and jammed his insides back in painfully. He was a veritable hurricane of emotions; anger and confusion and sheer desperation. He hadn’t felt such emotion since the day he saw D’Ken murder his wife.

“Hepzibah’s not coming,” he said as steadily as possible.

“What? What’ss going on? What happened to you face?” asked a stunned Ch’od.

“She’s just not coming. Now get in the ship and get her off the ground.”

The look in his eyes prompted the Saurian not to ask any questions; instead he did as was told. Within minutes the Starjammer was in space and heading towards a warp gate that would take them to Four Sacred Streams along with a dozens of other ships.

It was a tense several hours, both Z’Cann and Raza tried to ask Chris where Hepzibah was but the only answer they received was 'she had better things to do'. Both Ch’od and Raza assumed the couple had simply had another fight, but Z’Cann, as a telepath, could sense the deep pain radiating from the man.

Soon the planet of Four Sacred Streams came into view; it was a small blue and green world and reminded Corsair of Earth. The memory of his home world wasn’t enough to alleviate his anger and pain though.

“Ah, there you are,” he said softly as he spotted the enemy ships.

There were at least ten of the ships hovering around the planet, in no particular formation. Each ship was jet black and shaped like an elongated pyramid, with the nose end tapered to a needle fine point.

Z’Cann gasped, “I’ve seen these ships before, I saw them in that dying Brood’s mind. We should be careful, Captain...they decimated a whole Brood Armada.”

“Duly noted. Now, I need you on weapons, we’re going to test their mettle,” ordered Corsair.

Corsair aimed the Starjammer at the nearest enemy ship and flew towards it at incredible speed. Multiple volleys of energy blasts rained down upon the unsuspecting vessel to no effect; each blast was seemingly dispersed upon a black and purple shield which only revealed it self when struck.

“Raza, report,” asked Corsair as they quickly veered away.

“The shield’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” he replied. “It didn’t absorb the energy -- it negated it,”

So they have shields that cancel out energy attacks, thought Corsair. Luckily I have more tricks. "Let’s try something simpler: launch the concussion missiles,”

“Captain?’ asked Z’Cann, surprised he wanted to use such primitive weapons.

“Trust me, Z’Cann. Do it,”

A pair of concusion missiles, simple weapons that use chemical combustion rather than positronic energy, were fired at the enemy ship. The missiles veered towards the ship, which was quickly turning around to face to its new foe. Amazingly, both missiles passed easily through the force field and detonated against the black ship in a huge explosion. Unfortunately the explosion appeared to have caused little damage to the vessel, which was now speeding towards the Starjammer and firing their laser cannons.

Corsair was livid; he wanted nothing more than to lash out at something and cause some damage, but these damn aliens weren’t letting him. If that wasn’t enough, now they wanted to hurt him, as if he hadn’t been hurt enough today.

“Z’Cann, drop some quantum mines to slow them down. Waldo, increase speed and get us out of their range,” ordered the captain.

Corsair often bragged nothing was faster than the Starjammer, and so far no one had proven him wrong. While the exploding quantum mines temporarily slowed their pursuers, the Starjammer shot to safety behind the planet’s moon. They needed a new plan as the enemy ships were too powerful to attack directly. By bringing up footage of the enemy crafts on several viewing screens, the captain came to an important realization.

“They’re not bombarding the planet,” he said. “With such powerful air support, you’d think they’d sit easy in their ships and rain hell down upon the Clench, but they’re not. Raza, scan the planet for surface activity.”

“You’re right, Captain, there’s fighting on the surface; multiple minor skirmishes in the Southern hemisphere and one major battle in the city’s capital in the Northern hemisphere,” replied the cyborg.

“Ok, there’s something down there that they want. Maybe its resources, maybe it’s something else, but whatever it is we’re sure as hell not gonna let them have it. Waldo, teleport us all to where the battle’s concentration is at its highest.”

Z’Cann was concerned; she sensed a desperate need to strike out at someone from Corsair. He wasn’t thinking clearly, and his recklessness was dragging them all into a deadly battle. Unfortunately she didn’t have a chance to voice her concerns before they were dematerialised and teleported to the planet’s surface.

---

Shining White, Capital of Four Sacred Streams

The bloody battle had been raging for hours and the Clench were slowly losing ground, the unnamed enemy now holding two thirds of their city. A cry of relief rang out through the city when the reinforcement ships from Standing Still arrived and engaged the black, crystal ships of the invaders. That cry of relief quickly turned to despair when each ship was shot down in flames.

The Starjammers arrived in the midst of all this; it was like being thrown into the deep end of a pool while you were asleep. It took precious seconds to orient yourself as there were people everywhere, crying out in despair and anger. All around her, Z’Cann could see eyes wide with terror.

“Corsair, this is madness,” she tried to reason. "Four people can’t turn the tide of battle! We need the Starjammer.”

But Corsair was in a world of his own, he pushed away from the group with both pistols drawn, in search of the enemy. The Skrull, along with Raza and Ch’od, was in quick pursuit.

“Whatss he doing?” asked Ch’od. “He’s going to get himsself killed.”

“He’s in some sort of shock,” replied Z’Cann. "Something bad has happened to him and now…”

The trio suddenly found themselves alongside Corsair in the front lines of the army, and for the first time they saw the enemy they were up against. Lumbering down the wide street were a variety of creatures, some small and quick, others large and powerful, but they all shared one thing in common; each alien was covered in what looked like strands of black webbing.

“By the gods, they have no minds!” exclaimed Z’Cann.

“They’re dead!” screamed one terrified Kree soldier.

“Quit yer blubbering! They can’t already be dead!” yelled another soldier.

Z’Cann wasn’t so sure; they certainly looked dead, many were badly mutilated and yet still moving, and she couldn’t sense a single though from any of them. It was as if someone was directing their movement’s from far away.

In a split second, dozens of tendrils burst from one beast, with large leathering wings and a face like an angler fish, and ensnared several soldiers, including Corsair. The Clench army burst into action, screaming out a ferocious battle cry. Z’Cann, Ch’od and Raza immediately ran to their Captain’s rescue, as he was being rapidly drawn towards the hideous monster.

Cosair was firing madly at the snakelike tendrils that enwrapped him and crying out in anger, “Let go of me, you freak.”

Slash!

With one deft slash of his sabre, Raza easily severed half the tendrils holding Corsair, but before he could cut the rest the creature took to the air, taking the Captain with him. The winged beast’s other captives were dropped screaming to the ground, but for some reason it chose to hold on to Christopher.

“Corsair!” screamed Raza, as he took off after the beast on foot. The trio made a mad dash down a tight alley as the creature carried their captain through the air over top, all of them afraid to fire in case they hit Corsair. Corsair, on the other hand, was blasting holes through the creature with his twin laser pistols but it seemed utterly unfazed.

Bamf!

A figure wrapped in a dark cloak suddenly appeared on the beast’s back in a cloud of sulphur smelling smoke. In two quick motions, the man severed both of the creature’s wings; Corsair barely even saw the sabre as it did its deadly work. Without its batlike wings to keep it aloft, the alien plummeted like a stone, taking Christopher with it. The cloaked figure reached down and grabbed his forearm in a vicelike grip.

Bamf!

For a second there was an icy cold, suffocating blackness before the Captain found himself in an abandoned home and gagging on what smelled like sulphur. His cloaked rescuer stepped towards the door to leave but Corsair grabbed his arm.

“Wait, who are you?” he asked.

The man sighed and pulled back his hood, “Hello, Corsair,” said Nightcrawler sadly.

“Kurt? What are you doing here?” asked a surprised Christopher. “Is Scott with you?”

Kurt had changed a lot since the last time he’d seen him. He wore his hair long and tied back in a pony tail and also had a think goatee. There was a deep sadness in his eyes.

“I am not the Kurt you know. Just forget you ever saw me, ok?” Jerking his arm from Corsair’s grasp, the blue mutant ran out in the street. Not prepared to let this mystery remain unsolved, the starship captain quickly pursued him down the narrow street and into an even narrower alley.

Why isn’t he teleporting? he wondered.

The alley was a dead end but that didn’t stop the agile mutant; he simply leapt up the wall and began to pull himself over.

“Shiest!” he cursed and jumped back down off the wall beside Corsair. “The enemy are on the other side of that wall. We need to get out of here,” he said in a hushed whisper.

“Can you teleport us away from here?”

“Well, I'd prefer not to, it upsets the little one and the Quel’toth have exceptional hearing. A crying baby would be like a homing beacon.”

For the first time Christopher noticed the small bundle in Kurt’s arms; it was a baby, at least a year old, with thick black hair and deep brown eyes.

“Whose baby is this? Yours?” he asked quietly.

“No, she’s Piotr and Kitty’s. Her name is Yana. Now let us get out of here. Follow me,”

Kurt led him through more narrow alleys and quiet backstreets without a word. Occasionally he would pass Yana to Corsair and scout the area from atop a building. After roughly twenty minutes, Kurt decided it would be safe to talk again.

“Kurt, you say the baby is Piotr’s, but last we heard, Piotr was dead. Have the X-Men had another miraculous resurrection?”

Kurt looked as if someone had struck him, “Piotr’s dead? They’re both gone…” he muttered.

“Both? Look, no more games, tell me what’s going on,” demanded Corsair. “What did you mean when you said you weren’t the Kurt I know,”

“Ok, I will explain everything; you deserve that much,” Kurt yielded. “I am not the Kurt Wagner you met all those years ago when D’Ken tried to toy with the M’Kraan crystal. I have those memories but I’m not him. I am a clone created by the Brood not long after the X-Men destroyed Broodworld. If they couldn’t have the real thing, they decided copies were the next best thing,” said Kurt, bitterly “Unfortunately for them, Kitty, Piotr, Ororo, Scott and myself escaped and we’ve been fighting the Brood ever since.”

Corsair was stunned; he didn’t know what to expect from Kurt but it wasn’t this. He had another son out there, a second Scott, and he never knew.

“Where are the others?” he asked, “Where’s my s…where’s Scott?”

Tears welled in Kurt’s eyes. “About two weeks ago, we tracked the Brood to a small solar system and found a graveyard; dozens of dead Acanti...someone had massacred the Brood. And then we were ambushed by the Quel’toth, the same people that killed the Brood."

The Quel’toth. Finally the enemy had a name.

“They disabled our ship and took us captive,” he continued. “The Quel’toth are obsessed with genetic perfection, they see any race that breeds naturally as animals and slaughter them as such. They didn’t understand our powers when we were captured, so I managed to teleport to safety with baby Yana to a shuttle on board the Xavier, but I couldn’t get back in for anybody else; their shields let me teleport out but not in. The others are surely dead by now.”

The tears ran freely down Kurts blue furred face now. The poor man had endured so much.

“Is it a coincidence that the Quel’toth are here on Four Sacred Streams?” asked Corsair.

Kurt shook his head. “For some reason I can’t gather, they’re hunting me from planet to planet. I though I lost them recently but I was mistaken. I’ve brought doom upon this world,”

“You can’t blame youself…”

Footsteps! Someone was running down the adjacent street in their direction. Instinctively, Corsair raised both his pistols as Kurt held Yana close in one arm and drew his sabre.

Don’t shoot, it’s us! cried Z’Cann in their minds a split second before Raza, Ch’od and she came running around the corner.

“How did you find me?” Corsair smiled.

“We tracked your com ssignal,” replied Ch’od, before his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Nightcrawler. “What are you doing here?”

“We’ll explain it all later, but first we have to get out of here,” said Corsair.

Boom! The wall behind them suddenly exploded outwards, blowing the group off their feet and showering them in rubble.

A powerful hand grabbed Corsair by the back of the neck and lifted him off the ground. He struggled valiantly but he couldn’t break the hold and both his pistols lay on the ground.

“Is this one the human?” asked a guttural voice behind him.

“It looks like the other specimens, doesn’t it? Obviously it’s the human we’re after.” The way the second alien said 'specimens' made Corsair shudder.

His captor twisted him around to get a better look and for the first time Corsair saw the true Quel’toth: the creature stood about nine feet tall with pale grey skin. It wasn’t as powerfully built as Ch’od but he could clearly feel its strength. Each of the creatures had two sets of arms and elongated face like a lizard, with a mouth full of fangs. Their most noticeable feature though, was their three glassy red eyes, set in a triangle in the middle of their face.

There were at least six of the aliens with his captor, and none of them looked as remotely dead as the creatures they had first encountered when arriving on the planet. They were also completely devoid of any black webbing. Were they even Quel’toth, or were they something else?

One of the other aliens pointed towards the other Starjammers, who were quickly getting to their feet, with a gun made of a black crystalline material.

“What should we do with them?” it asked.

“The sen’khan only demanded the capture of the human,” replied the alien holding Corsair. "Kill the rest of these animals.”

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To Be Continued...

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