The Axiom-Prime station hung in the void like a jeweled dagger, precisely equidistant from the last Kree star-fortress and the outermost Skrull patrol route. Inside its gleaming, sterile diplomacy chamber, the air was thicker than the methane seas of G'rrth.
Shi'ar Praetor K'tharr, his avian features impassive, presided over the simmering silence. On one side of the polished obsidian table sat Kree Ambassador Morag the Unyielding, his blue skin taut over a rigid, military posture. Opposite him, Skrull Ambassador Xy'lar lounged, a picture of reptilian nonchalance that failed to hide the predatory gleam in his eyes.
"Your Empire continues to arm seditious elements in the Cygnus cluster," Morag stated, his voice a low, disciplined growl. "We have intercepted transmissions. We have witnesses."
Xy'lar offered a slow, deliberate blink. "Witnesses can be bought. Transmissions can be fabricated. Unlike the Kree 'listening posts' our long-range scouts discovered nestled in the nebulae bordering Tarnax-VII. You demand proof of our aggression while your spies crawl across our borders like vermin. The Skrull Empire demands reparations for these violations."
"Lies!" Morag slammed a gauntleted fist on the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "The Kree do not lie. We enforce order!"
"You enforce tyranny," Xy'lar hissed, his form subtly shifting, his shoulders broadening for a fraction of a second before he reigned in his shapeshifting instincts.
Praetor K'tharr raised a feathered hand. "Gentlemen, the Shi'ar Imperium facilitates this summit to prevent war, not to host its prelude. Let us return to the evidence presented…"
Before he could finish, the chamber's grand viewport, which displayed the serene starfield, was momentarily blocked by a streak of emerald light. Three figures, clad in the deep purple and green of Skrull commando armor, materialized in a shimmer of teleportation energy inside the chamber.
Chaos erupted. Shi'ar guards raised their energy pikes. Morag's own honor guard drew their blades. But it was too late. One of the Skrull commandos raised a particle rifle. A searing green bolt crossed the room. It didn't strike Morag or Xy'lar. It hit Val-Tor, Morag's chief aide, vaporizing his head and upper torso in a silent, horrific flash.
The commandos shimmered once more and vanished.
For a heartbeat, the chamber was utterly still, the only sound the faint hum of the station's life support. Then Morag's face, contorted with a grief that was instantly consumed by incandescent rage, turned to Xy'lar. The Skrull ambassador's face was a mask of genuine shock, but to Morag, it was the face of guilt.
"Treachery!" Morag bellowed, the sound raw and primal. "You dare… you dare!"
"This was not my doing, Kree!" Xy'lar snarled, his own guards moving to shield him. "This is your own deception! A pretext for the war you've always craved!"
The summit was over. The war had begun.
[Kree Accuser Warship Hala's Vengeance, En route to the Xylos System]
Captain Vorr stood on the bridge of his ship, the green glow of the tactical displays reflecting in his silver eyes. The order had come directly from Hala, overriding all diplomatic protocols: Engage and pacify all Skrull assets. Hostile intent confirmed.
"All cruisers, report status," Vorr commanded, his voice as cold and hard as the ship's hull.
"Wraith Squadron, locked and loaded." "Executioner Wing, shields at maximum." "Light of Truth, weapons hot."
The reports cascaded in. Below them, visible through the main viewscreen, the rest of the Accuser fleet broke formation, massive, hammer-headed engines flaring to life. They were beautiful, terrible instruments of order, designed for one purpose: subjugation.
"Jump coordinates to the Xylos system are locked, Captain," his navigator reported. "The primary Skrull outpost is on the third moon."
"Ignore the outpost," Vorr ordered, his gaze fixed on the shimmering vortex of hyperspace opening before them. "Our target is the colony on the planet itself. We will make them understand the price of shedding Kree blood."
The Hala's Vengeance plunged into the swirling tunnel of light, a silver arrow aimed at the heart of a doomed world.
[Kree Agri-Colony, Pama-IV]
Kree technician Rell-Varr finished his diagnostic on the atmospheric processor, grumbling about the shoddy parts they were getting from the core worlds. He turned to his junior officer, a new transfer named Kyt.
"See? The thermal regulator is fluctuating again. If this thing blows, the entire northern continent's harvest is slag," Rell-Varr said, wiping grease from his blue hands.
Kyt nodded silently, his eyes scanning the schematics on a datapad. "I see the problem. It requires a manual override from the primary conduit junction."
"Right. And that's in the sub-level maintenance tunnels. Great," Rell-Varr sighed. "Alright, lead the way, kid."
Kyt gave a brief, tight smile. As they descended into the dimly lit tunnels, the junior officer's form began to ripple and warp. His skin shifted from blue to mottled green, his ears elongating. By the time Rell-Varr's instincts screamed that something was wrong, the Skrull infiltrator had already placed a plasma charge on the processor's primary coolant line.
"For the Empire," the Skrull whispered, pressing the detonator as Rell-Varr lunged, a moment too late.
From orbit, Pama-IV's northern continent looked as if a star had been born on its surface. The explosion tore through the planet's crust, sending fire and ash into the fabricated atmosphere. Another border world was burning.
[Hala, Kree Homeworld]
Within the Sanctum of the Supreme Intelligence, the air was cold and still. Ronan the Accuser knelt before the swirling, bio-organic supercomputer that was the mind and soul of the Kree Empire. Countless green, disembodied faces flickered within its depths.
A single, resonant voice, the synthesis of billions of Kree minds, echoed in the chamber.
"THEY HAVE ACTED AS WE PREDICTED. THEIR SAVAGERY IS A CONSTANT. THEIR DECEPTION, AN ASSURANCE."
"They have assassinated a diplomat on neutral ground," Ronan stated, his voice tight with controlled fury. "It is an act of war without honor."
"HONOR IS A CONCEPT RESERVED FOR EQUALS. THE SKRULLS ARE AN INFECTION TO BE PURGED. YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS, ACCUSER. WE HAVE BEEN PATIENT. OUR PATIENCE IS AT AN END. THE SKRULLS HAVE DRAWN FIRST BLOOD. THERE WILL BE NO SECOND."
[Dard'van, Skrull Throneworld]
Empress R'Klll stood on a balcony overlooking a million roaring warriors. Her crimson robes flowed in the wind, and the Scepter of Rule pulsed with energy in her hand. Her species had lost their homeworld, scattered and hunted. They had clawed their way back from the brink, building this new throne on a foundation of sheer will. She would not see it fall.
"The Kree speak of order!" she roared, her voice amplified across the capital city. "But their order is a cage! They speak of diplomacy, yet they engineered the murder of their own to justify this war! They see our resilience not as a strength, but as a defiance to be crushed!"
The crowd roared back, a wave of unified hatred.
"They think us broken! They think us weak! They have forgotten who we are! We are the children of Tarnax! We are survivors! We are the shape-shifting heart of this galaxy, and we will not be stopped! The Kree want our extinction—we will not kneel!"
From the lowest foot soldier to the highest warlord, the Skrull Empire, a tapestry of fractured fiefdoms and rival clans, was now united under a single banner: Vengeance.
[Orion-3 Relay Station, Nova Corps Sector]
Centurion Rhomann Dey watched the holographic starmap with a growing knot of dread in his stomach. Two vast swathes of the galaxy were turning from neutral blue to hostile red as Kree and Skrull fleets surged across their borders.
"Containment is impossible," Nova-Prime Irani Rael said, her voice grim. "They're escalating faster than any previous conflict. It's like the assassination was just the excuse they were both waiting for."
"The Shi'ar are pulling back. The Brood are stirring. The entire quadrant is destabilizing," Dey added, tracing a line on the map with his finger. It led from the core of the conflict outward, past dozens of sovereign systems, until it stopped at a small, unassuming yellow star.
"What's your primary concern, Centurion?" Rael asked.
Dey zoomed in on the unremarkable star system. "This one, Prime. Sol. Third planet. The Kree have an old genetic interest there from their early expansion. The Skrulls have had sleeper cells on that world for decades. Both empires have assets and history tied to a planet of pre-warp primitives."
Rael frowned, the gravity of the situation settling upon her. "Why? What's so strategically important about… Earth?"
Dey shook his head, the red light of the war map glinting off his golden helmet. "I don't know. But I have a feeling we're all about to find out."