At the northern edge of Xandar's Arctic Circle, cutting winds swept across a Nova Corps resource station. This was the northernmost man-made settlement on the planet. Beneath two hundred feet of ice lay rich deposits of methane hydrate, and alien workers in thermal suits drove house-sized mining rigs across the frozen tundra while loud, trendy music blasted from their onboard radios.
Near the pole itself, in a zone even the mining vehicles avoided, there stood a round little hut half-buried in windblown snow. The president of the Mechanics' Association was inside, calibrating a neutrino monitor. Outside, the temperature had fallen to minus ninety-four degrees Celsius. Inside, it was a comfortable seventy degrees Fahrenheit.
A month earlier, a sudden stellar storm had swept across a two-light-year stretch of space. Most of the high-energy particle flow had been neutralized by the Corps' orbital shield network and the planet's magnetic field, but some charged particles still poured in through the poles. Along with creating a magnificent display of auroras, they had also fried the president's communications gear and monitoring equipment, leaving him completely cut off from the outside world.
The lonely wait for rescue had stretched on so long that his mind had started wandering in all kinds of directions. Then, on this particular day, two unexpected visitors arrived at the hut.
A wizard, and an old comic artist.
Wizard Skyl came walking through the blizzard with a light, easy step. Not a single snowflake rested on his shoulders. It was as if the turbulence of the atmosphere had gifted him a snow cloak stretching two hundred kilometers, and even the winds strong enough to split rock could not so much as ruffle the collar of his robe.
When he knocked on the door, President Winslow had initially thought it was a Digo. Those alien great apes were like polar bears, apex predators at the top of the food chain, and clever enough to knock on doors in order to lure prey out of shelter.
"Hello, President Winslow. I accepted a commission from the Mechanics' Association to check in on you."
President Winslow had bright yellow skin, like a tropical orange brought to life. "You're actually alive? Good grief, I was wondering what kind of thing would be wandering around the Arctic in weather like this. Get in here, quick."
Skyl stepped inside. At the time, the heating system was broken, and the food supplies were nearly gone. Fortunately, the high-capacity batteries still had another four hundred seventy years of service left in them. Winslow had been using an induction cooker to heat copper pipes and warm the hut, which was the only reason he had not frozen into an ice block.
With a flick of the wizard's hand, the trash in the room lined up on its own and marched into the compactor, while the radiator started bubbling with fresh heat.
Before long, the three of them were sitting around the stove, sharing a steaming pot of stew.
Skyl talked about what he had been up to over the last couple of days. He had not actually come all this way specifically to rescue anybody. He was helping Mechanics' Association headquarters deliver a batch of star-shaped titanium gears to the Arctic resource station, and while he was there, the mechanics stationed on-site mentioned that the president had not been seen in a long time. So Skyl had decided to stop by on everyone's behalf and make sure the man was still alive.
As for Stan, Skyl had run into him in the central city while helping Nova Corps officers search for contraband. He found the old man in a bar, busy trying to flirt with women.
They were both delighted by the unexpected reunion, and since Stan had just spent the last credit in his pocket, he did not hesitate for even a second before going with Skyl.
Thinking about it, Skyl was genuinely curious how Stan had somehow ended up in outer space in the first place. This creator god was still flesh and blood. There was no way he could have crossed the universe on his own.
Stan wore an innocent expression and said that a few big-headed bald guys had brought him there.
From that description, Skyl immediately understood. The so-called big-headed bald guys had to be the Watchers.
The Watchers were a race that had existed since the earliest days of the universe. Their history stretched back farther than that of nearly any other civilization, and their technology was extraordinarily advanced. True to their name, they preferred to observe the evolution and development of other species, which was why they usually stayed behind the scenes instead of becoming conquerors of the cosmos.
Ordinarily, they did not interfere with the development of civilizations. But since Watchers had gotten involved in so many major events throughout the comics, people had ended up jokingly calling them meddlers instead.
Stan had apparently been wandering around New Mexico when he accidentally wandered into a Watcher ship. Before he knew it, he had somehow ended up on Xandar. Penniless and stranded, the old Earthling had managed to survive these past several days by charming alien women and living off their generosity.
"Finish eating and let's head out," President Winslow said. "I need to get back to headquarters. Speaking of which, the mechanic skills tournament is about to start too. Back in my day, I won the championship three times in a row."
Skyl pulled out his phone and checked it. According to the local planetary calendar, a full week had already passed. By now, the tournament had gone through the preliminary selection and two full rounds. The quarterfinals and semifinals were about to begin.
He called Tony, just to show a little concern for his crewmate.
"Stark, how's the competition going?"
Tony was in the waiting room, tuning up his tools, and his voice sounded completely relaxed. "Easy as hell. Well, so far, anyway... Quill's not here with me. He got arrested by Nova Corps officers for getting into a street fight, and right now he's sitting in a cell... Moonshadow said not to bother with him."
Skyl asked about Gali too.
"The kid's in the stands cheering me on," Tony said. Then the overhead speakers called for contestants to take the stage, so he said goodbye in a hurry and hung up.
Next to him, Jojani kept taking deep breaths.
"Relax, kid. We're not even at the finals yet."
Jojani kept glancing toward the audience seats, as though searching for someone.
Tony only needed one guess to figure out what she was scared of. "So your dad knows you stole someone else's identity? Yeah, you're definitely getting the crap beat out of you when you get home."
"Sigh..." The tomboy had already spotted her father's dark, stormy expression, and she looked so intimidated she could only let out miserable little groans. Then she straightened up again with sudden determination. "No matter what, I'm not giving up. Mr. Stark, let's win this damned competition!"
Tony immediately cut her off. "Kids are not allowed to swear."
The display board flashed the contestants' names.
"Number One: Kagaton. Outside assistant: Tony... Number Four: Varina. Outside assistants: Rocket, Groot..."
"Well, well, trash panda." Tony lifted his chin. "We finally meet."
The little raccoon clicked his tongue. It was hard to tell whether he was pleased or annoyed, because his furry face looked like a stuffed toy, and whether he was happy or mad, he still came off as weirdly adorable.
"You Earth bastard, I can't believe you didn't get eliminated. I hope today's test is hard enough. I've got no intention of seeing that exhausted, washed-out face of yours again in the finals."
Tony turned to the blue-skinned girl beside him. "Do I really look that washed out?"
"No. You look fine. You've just got a little bit of dark circles under your eyes."
"I've been up late the last few days. Dark circles are normal."
He rolled his shoulders and headed for the workbench.
At that moment, the hateful Varina sauntered over and narrowed her eyes at Jojani. The girl went pale under that sharp, venomous stare. It was like a frog being locked onto by a snake, frozen in place and too scared to move.
"Kagaton, is it?" Varina said with a smirk. "Funny. I seem to remember that not being your name."
"Maybe you remembered wrong. I've always been Kagaton. Heh... heh..." Jojani forced out an awkward laugh.
A judge from the event staff walked over and asked whether there was any problem.
Varina's expression brightened with excitement. She parted her gaudy, heavily painted lips, about to say something, but Jojani frantically waved her hands, signaling that nothing was wrong.
The judge urged them to return to their workstations. Varina shot Jojani a vicious glare.
"If I were you, I'd drop out this round. Otherwise, you, your sickly old man, and that backwater hick from Earth can all get ready for prison."
Tony stood at the workbench reviewing the incomplete blueprint they had been given for this round. The challenge required them to fill in the missing sections of the design according to the project requirements, then build the finished product within the allotted time.
The judges scored each mechanic's work in four categories: blueprint completeness, finished-product robustness, practicality, and aesthetic value. The higher total score advanced. In theory, if a bracket was full of hopeless amateurs, you could slap something together and still move on.
But this time Tony was up against Rocket Raccoon and several other well-known contestants. If he wanted to avoid elimination, he had to bring out his full ability.
"What's wrong?" He turned his head and saw Jojani's pale face. "That old woman threatened you?"
"Mr. Stark... maybe we should just forfeit."
"And who was the one saying she would never give up?"
"But if this gets exposed, you'll go to jail too."
Tony told her, "Take it easy. I know some very powerful people. Nothing's going to happen."
Jojani assumed he was just bragging.
Following Tony's instructions, she worked fast, her hands moving efficiently despite how terrified she was. The design for this round was an autonomous snowfield prospecting machine. The number of parts used could not exceed four hundred. Even the lightest commercial prospecting models on the market usually had at least five hundred components, so the mechanic skills tournament genuinely tested real ability. Anyone who only knew how to follow standard templates was not going to get far.
As expected, Tony's design earned a high score and advanced successfully to the next round.
Then, after spending the entire match idling around and doing next to nothing, Varina suddenly filed a formal complaint with the judges. She demanded that Contestant Number One's identity be reviewed again, because she suspected the contestant had used someone else's mechanic's license and committed fraud in the competition.
All the color drained from Jojani's face in an instant.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810