CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE HARBINGER

“OH MY stars and garters,” Henry McCoy said. They traveled in a sphere of atmosphere suspended between two of the Alephs.

The ship they approached was of a scale they could barely comprehend. It seemed at first almost as if they might be traveling to an artificial world. Seeing the moon on the other side of the massive construct helped with perspective, but only a little.

They docked with the vessel and moved through an airlock.

“In our seemingly unending string of bad choices, this one, I think, has the potential to be our worst,” Namor said as they proceeded down a corridor. Here the design was more conventional, with sharp angles and metal details.

“Let’s just keep an eye on the clock, Namor,” Iron Man said. “Regardless of how this goes, time is our real enemy here.”

Hank nodded. “Yes. Six hours. Six hours for the incursion. Six hours to save our world.” He looked at a time display on his wrist as he spoke.

“One foot in front of the other,” T’Challa cautioned them. “Remember what we have at the Necropolis.” Another Aleph stood before him, and it held out a hand for him to stop. “What are—?”

“DECLARATIVE: SCANNING FOR ANOMALIES. DECLARATIVE: SAFETY AND SECURITY FOR OUR MASTERS.” There was a pause as it studied them, hidden systems examining each of them for possible weapons. “DECLARATIVE: CLEAR. DECLARATIVE: PROCEED INSIDE.” The Panther found it strange they weren’t alarmed by Stark’s armor, and wondered whether they thought it too primitive to be a threat. Whatever the reason, they were allowed to proceed.

Twin doors slid open. The first things to draw T’Challa’s eyes were two creatures that looked similar to the Gardeners—yet very different. They were bright red. One had horns spread across the top of its skull, almost like feathers with a crest. The other, who appeared to be a female, had twin horns that arched back behind its head.

There were also two insect-like humanoids. One of them spread its arms in greeting.

“Please do the honor of joining us,” it said. “We have much to discuss… and the end of a world to see.”

When the Avengers didn’t reply, it continued. “Do you know what I am?”

“Well,” Iron Man said, “they look like Ex Nihili.” Gesturing beyond the red-skinned aliens to a mechanical humanoid, he added, “That is definitely an Aleph. Last time I encountered one, it was trying to destroy all life on my planet.” He turned his attention to the speaker. “You’re a Builder, aren’t you?”

“Yes, a Creator.” It nodded and then indicated a slightly different-looking insect-faced creature. “And this is an Engineer. We are part of the Builder collective.” He stepped closer. “I asked the Aleph to observe Earth, the incursion point between our two universes, hoping that some type of… evolved product of species would manifest there. He did not disappoint.”

That explains it, Stark thought. The other Earth…

“But time grows short,” the Creator continued, “so I will not wa—”

“Excuse me, Builder.” One of the red-skinned Gardeners spoke up, stepping closer to the newcomers—and Stephen Strange, in particular.

“Yes, Ex Nihili?”

“A problem.” He placed a hand on Strange’s shoulder.

“What is the—” the sorcerer began. Before he could finish,

the red-skinned male thrust its other hand into Strange’s skull. Energy danced around the point of entry, and a wave of agony passed over Strange’s face. He reached for the thing’s arm.

Before anyone could react, the Gardener withdrew its hand. It grasped a spidery thing that wavered, half in and half out of reality. One second it appeared to be a collection of limbs the consistency of smoke, and the next a bulbous eight-limbed creature the length of a human forearm.

The thing spoke in whispers. “A hidden Inhuman tribe. The gem is lost. Located in the great southern crevice of Greenland. All these men are liars and kings. The son of Thanos is in Orollan.” Doctor Strange fell forward, and the Panther caught him.

“Ah, a mind web,” the Creator said as the spider-like thing dissolved into dust. “The infectious networked remnants of a Whisperer—artifacting left over from a possession.” He spoke to Doctor Strange. “The effects will pass.” Then he turned to the rest. “There are no Whisperers in this dimension, but in the past we have studied them in yours.”

“Excuse me,” the Beast said, and T’Challa could tell how hard it had been for him to hold back his questions. “I have to ask, where are you from? You know about this thing. Does that mean your species began in our universe?”

“Where anyone begins is inconsequential,” the Creator answered. “It’s where you end up that matters. For us it was the entire Multiverse.”

“Was?” T’Challa said.

“Yes,” the Creator said. “A very short time ago, we moved freely from universe to universe, accessing each from the otherspace that existed between them—what we call the Superflow. But all of that has collapsed. Destroyed. The Superflow… fractured, and it can no longer be navigated safely.”

Iron Man and Reed Richards both moved closer, listening intently to every word. It was one of the reasons Stark got along so well with the man. They both heard the details few others would have noticed.

“This is the harbinger of the end of everything,” their host continued. “Which is something my people have pledged to prevent. Which is why we are speaking here and now. A group of entities such as yourself have defeated the Builders that exist in your universe.”

“How can you know that?” Reed asked.

“Especially considering you no longer have the access to what you profess to possess,” Namor added.

The Creator gestured. “Bring it in.”

Two Alephs dragged a badly injured figure into the room. It babbled and moaned and made sounds, but none of them made any sense to Tony or any of the translation software in his armor.

Their host looked down at the ruined, bleeding thing.

“This failed, dying creature is a Builder, useless and done. The damage it incurred is too great for us to repair. It escaped here from your universe.”

“From ours?” Namor looked dubious. “That seems an amazing coincidence.”

The Creator just stared at him. “When lost at sea, swimming for the nearest island is not good fortune, human. It is a matter of proximity. Do I need to point out how close our two realities currently are?”

Namor conceded the argument with a nod.

“Shall we get to the point of this conversation?” the Creator pressed. The Gardeners gestured without warning, and an individual bubble of pressurized atmosphere surrounded each of the Illuminati. Reed Richards touched the field that surrounded him, his fingers stretching to caress the surface.

“What is this?” he asked.

“For your safety, of course,” the Creator said, its words coming through clearly. “This vessel is a World Killer. Its purpose is exactly what its name suggests, and its cause is virtuous. You must know by now that the Earth is the axis point for the death of everything.” There was no emotion in the words. “You also must know what conclusion has to be drawn from that fact.”

“No, that’s not true.” Reed’s argument came clearly into each bubble. He was only slightly less calm than usual. “The cascading effect—from other dying universes—is increasing. The rate of all things dying. Eliminating a single Earth is like comparing a pebble to a planet. You’re thinking too small.”

The Creator moved closer to Reed Richards and touched the bubble surrounding him.

“Oh, I agree with you,” it said. “Incrementalism is a waste of time, but what if we killed all of the Earths? All of them. We believe that action could very well save everything—and if not save it, then at least prolong it, preserving a more natural end to our existence.”

It gestured. Assisted by the Alephs, the Gardeners— technically Ex Nihili, Stark supposed—shepherded them back out into the vacuum of space. The Earthers were propelled again through the incursion point and deposited back at the Twelve Apostles. Their bubbles dissolved.

The rift between universes still hung crimson in the sky. As they watched, the World Killer positioned itself over the other Earth. The Creator’s words continued to reach them, echoing in their minds.

“Our planet killer is too large to move through the incursion point. We cannot move toward your Earth, and you have done us the disservice of eliminating our counterparts in your universe. So I must ask you, do you have the capability to destroy your own world?”

Reed Richards considered the question.

“Yes. We do.”

Seen in the bloodied skies above the Twelve Apostles, a burst of energy came from the ship, and it lived up to its name. The Earth exploded, bursting into a fiery sphere of ruin that expanded and cast shattered remnants far into space. The barrier between the universes was still strong enough that nothing from that Armageddon made it through.

The voice of the Creator continued.

“If you possess the ability, then what are you waiting for?”