The Power of Ten Book Four: Dynamo

“Why have you asked to address the Great Ring, Lord Primus?” Genesis asked. The woman was over a thousand years old, still tall and unbent, but she looked both tired and as if a great weight had been lifted from her. Apocalypse, her husband, stood behind her, having no official position on the Ring at this time, probably considering it unimportant.

“Apocalypse has probably told you a great deal about the world you have re-entered after so long, and it is not the one that you left. His ambitions and desires are his own, and he knows the attitude of the High Guard regarding matters like conquest.” That we even allowed him back on the planet was only because of his performance driving the Badoon to perform in the Annihilation War. “However, there are several events that have happened recently that he has no knowledge of.”

I glanced over the very attentive onlookers outside the Great Ring. They’d all seen us fighting, and all of them knew we were powerful and could easily speak with their Omegas as equals. The fact we were not mutants, but had done what they could not, was playing havoc with their sense of superiority, however.

“There was a multiversal re-creation event that happened not long ago. Given you were in a pocket dimension, you likely felt no more than some distant rumblings.

“One of the things that happened was that this event generated a new world out of nowhere that literally had never actually existed. Furthermore, this world was brought in from somewhat further down its false timeline then our own... which is how we learned of your plight and the details needed to come to your relief.”

I watched them tense at the very idea they’d needed help, pride and stubbornness drilled into their bones.

“Among other things, there is a whole other population of Arakkoans dwelling on the planet Mars... in effect, doubles of many of you who are less than two hundred years old.”

The exclamations of surprise and amazement from all those present were unfeigned, even from Apocalypse.

“Yes, this is exactly the same as if you had gone to a parallel dimension and encountered the Arakkoans of that world. However, the non-temporal divergence their existence is based on deviated in year 1832. Thus, although they remember your seniors living with them and leading them for all those years, naturally you were actually in the dimension of Amenth with your people here, still fighting.

“Their memories have a very different outcome of what happened, but they still won free of Annihilation and his daemons in the end.

“More pointedly, they are closely allied with another mutant nation dwelling on the non-sapient Krakoa of their own Earth, of which they recall Apocalypse as being one of their number, and two members of which now sit on their Great Ring, while they wonder where their older seniors have gone.”

The buzz of conversation had not gone down, but it couldn’t override Primus’ Voice, and they had no choice but to continue listening.

“The High Guard and the Pentad Alliance have no designs upon you or your people, unless you embark upon a path of domination or conquest. As you are a warrior people without significant assets to your name other than your skills and abilities, we are presuming you will eventually embark upon mercenary endeavors, and there is no end of such employment available once you are properly re-trained in modern arms and methodologies.

“If you choose to emigrate to Mars and join with your doubles there, we have no issues with that, either. We do recommend a bloodless consolidation of your Great Rings, if at all possible.

“We also recommend some level of diplomatic contact in order not to perpetuate misunderstandings. This world and system are very, very different from the world you have been under siege in for the last thousand years, and a true warrior adapts to the situation they are in, they do not seek to impose an untenable one upon others to avoid change.

“Are there any questions for us, before we depart?”

“I have a question.” Isca the Unbeaten’s proud voice rose and silenced the hubbub instantly as she rose to her feet, staring at the three of us. “What would it take to qualify to stand among the High Guard?” she asked promptly. Her eyes focused on Kismet narrowly.

“Well, it’s not a trial by combat, which you would lose against any of us.” The Unbeaten literally jerked in shock at Primus’ words. “There is a standard of power or ability you need to beat, and you do not have it, Lady Isca. The subservience of your ethical and moral code to the needs of your power is also completely untenable for one of the High Guard.

“We nominate our own from those rising stars who have shown the power and moral character to stand with us. If they do not have the power, there are manifold opportunities below us. If they do not have the moral character, well, there are also numerous opportunities, which such people have little difficulty in pursuing.”

She had a warped expression on her face, halfway between sneer and affront. “You I cannot defeat! Lady Dynamo I cannot read...” and she turned her eyes on Kismet. “You would fall before me!” she declared with total confidence.

Kismet just glanced at me in disbelief at the woman’s tone.

“No, she wouldn’t.” Isca the Unbeaten visibly jerked at my rebuke. “She’d take you out in mere seconds.”

“You, you dare impugn my ability?!” the Unbeaten raged, her hand upon her sword. “I cannot be beaten! That is my Weapon!”

“Right. That’s your mutant power,” I replied, totally ignoring her glare and the nervous mutants around who were nonetheless expecting a fight, and hoping we’d be put in our place. “So, without your mutant power, what exactly have you got?”

Despite herself, she blinked first. “What... do you mean?” she asked uneasily.

“I mean that if we lazily strip away your mutant power, underneath it we’re going to find a woman who has been leaning on it for a thousand years, and I bet there’s literally hundreds of your own citizens who could immediately kick your ass, being stronger, smarter, faster, more skilled, and more determined than you are.” I glanced at Kismet. “Light of Dusk, little sister?”

Kismet literally blinked, then glowed softly. The effect was instantaneous.

Mutants all around cried out as they began to transform. Visible mutations, body forms, and alterations from the human norm reverted with amazing speed, and no doubt a lot of pain, as the cries of the more wildly transformed made apparent.

Cries of “I have lost my Weapon!” rang out in horror as the mutants tried to use their powers and completely failed. The huge floating eyeball, only a withered body barely floating below it, was the hugest visible reversion, shrinking in size as its barely existing body swelled into a skinny pale-skinned man of average appearance and build who definitely needed some sunlight, shocking everyone who stared at him.

Even Apocalypse himself shrank in size and mass, down to merely a very large human, instead of his towering build. He was not surprised, however, merely shaking his head knowingly as he looked around grimly.

Isca was clutching onto her seat for support, barely able to remain standing, especially as Kismet slowly rose off the ground, her eyes alight. As cosmic power began to seethe and boil on her hands, she said quietly, “I can atomize this entire building and all within it by blinking my eye, and you think you are going to defeat me?” She stared at Isca, and it was the Unbeaten who lowered her eyes first under the pressure there.

Kismet looked back at me. -What a bunch of total pricks,- she /sniffed, and cosmic energy swirled about her and whisked her away before she got truly angry.

She had served in the Annihilation War for years, just like I had, and she was definitely not a little girl in mind and spirit any longer. She was responsible for the deaths of millions of enemy combatants, and she served on the High Guard. She did so because she deserved to be there!

With the removal of the Light of Dusk, the suppression of the X-gene was immediately lifted, and cries rose again as mutations re-established themselves as quickly as they’d been suppressed. Primus and I waited patiently as people re-evolved into amphibians, insects, group hiveminds, floating eyeballs, and half-plants, unmoved by the display. After seeing so many thousands of species of aliens and demons, this was literally nothing to us.

“A Primos human scientist stumbled upon the secret to self-evolution, and evolved himself into a being who understood many of the workings of the X-gene which powers your people,” Primus Said for all of them to hear after the worst of the shouts and cries of pain went away. “As a self-defensive measure, he designed the Light of Dusk to suppress abilities related to the X-gene and remove mutants as a threat. The technology was appropriated by the Kree and has spread to several other races, and is not considered a secret amongst them.

“Your heavy leaning on your mutant abilities kept you alive for a thousand years facing daemons, but daemons are a fixed and frozen species who lack free will and the ability to innovate. If we wanted to, we could park a satellite above this island and reduce all of you to effectively human Primos and complete equals with one another, your mutant gifts utterly irrelevant.

“We thus consider the superiority of your innate powers to one another to largely be a lie and a crutch, and it has certainly impeded proper development of your civilization.”

“Lord Apocalypse,” I spoke up into their stunned silence, addressing the fellow who had reclaimed his height and mass. “Have you informed them of mindblade reversion yet?”

His half-mechanical face warped slightly. “Ah. No, I had not.”

Primus flicked his hand, and that humming, ominously dangerous and very bright Silver Mindblade coalesced into his grasp. They’d all seen it carve through daemons effortlessly at super-speed, and knew it had power.

“A mutant trained to manifest a mindblade cuts off access to their Mutant Core and undergoes immediate reversion while it is primed.” I swept my eyes over all those mutants who had just shockingly been reverted to base human forms, and now had returned to their mutant states. “Your forms are alternates to your human appearances, they are not set in stone. If you want to appear as a base human, you can do so at any time, while also giving up your mutant abilities.

“Among other things, this reduces any and all of you to the exact same level of skill against skill, blade against blade, rendering gifts of birth irrelevant. Disagreements between mutants among the Tribal Nations can be settled by mindblade combat, and are considerably more equitable than by exercise of power.”

-Oh, hear that hum and look at those eyes. It seems reverence for their Omegas is undergoing some very rapid reconsideration,- Primus /observed, totally amused by my words.

“Furthermore, all mutants known are natural Psions, and their talent at the skills of one are in no way dependent upon their mutant gifts. I see no evidence of such levels of training among you, so those of you with minor and less useful mutant talents might wish to expand your powers through a more powerful and versatile avenue.”

The word was now out, and couldn’t be buried. The least of them now had roads to great power, and the mightiest among them could be challenged to a truly fair fight. I could sense rising ambitions in the air, as the weak who’d had no avenue of development but pure martial skill suddenly saw a golden road before them, and there was going to be precious little that could stop them from developing it.

“Are these... Psion powers and Mindblades affected by the Light of Dusk?” Genesis suddenly spoke up, seizing upon an important fact, probably hoping it was so as to at least dampen people’s enthusiasm to learn them.

“No,” I replied firmly, watching her hide her wince and glance at the surrounding mutants. “A true Psionic Core has nothing to do with the X-gene. Your mutant ability, your ‘Weapon’, is just one vulnerable leg of the many skills and powers which can build and raise you to greater strength. Primus is not a mutant at all, and can manifest a mindblade, and learn passive psionic disciplines... and he has. Psionics are potentially possible to almost all thinking sapient beings, although circumstances with my own abilities prevented me from developing a true Psionic Core.”

But not the Moondragon Mysteries, cosmic telepathy tyvm.

I could feel the eager emotions roiling through the Arakkoans as the word spread with great speed. This warrior society they’d made, with the strongest mutant powers at the top ruling it, was going to receive quite the upset before too long.

And they didn’t even fully realize the implications of Forsaken yet, who could be completely impervious to mutant powers if they trained themselves high enough...

“As far as an instructor, let me introduce you to someone.” I waved my hand, the air parted, and a grey-haired, brawny older man, all scarred and muscular, stepped through on cue. Apocalypse promptly sucked in a breath, not at all happy to see him there.

“This is Nathan Summer, usually just called the Summerson. He’d be rated as one of your Omegas in the disciplines of telepathy and telekinesis both, and he’s a fully accredited visiting professor of Cynosure, whenever he bothers to actually hold classes there,” I elbowed him, and he grunted, looking a bit abashed. “He’s also a warrior, commander, champion, and experienced mercenary, who should have no problem bringing your people up to speed in their training.

“We’ll leave you to get acquainted. Feel free to contact us if you want to emigrate quickly to Mars. Nathan can get you in contact with them if you desire.”