Colonel James Rhodes slowly opened his eyes to find himself staring up at an alien night sky, every muscle in his body screaming with pain. The last thing he remembered was the devastating energy explosion at the Hydra facility—that moment when everything had gone wrong and reality itself seemed to tear apart around them.
"FRIDAY, status report," he muttered, forcing himself into a sitting position as his armor's systems came online.
"All systems operational, Colonel Rhodes," came the AI's familiar voice through his helmet speakers. "Armor integrity at 98%. Minor damage to external plating, but all primary functions are within normal parameters."
Rhodey struggled to his feet and retracted his helmet, revealing a face etched with exhaustion and confusion. The landscape around him was unlike anything he had ever seen—a desolate wasteland scarred by massive craters that stretched to every horizon. The terrain looked as though it had been bombed repeatedly, leaving nothing but barren rock and twisted metal debris scattered across the surface.
All he could remember was that final moment in the Hydra laboratory when the energy had erupted around them. After that—nothing but darkness until he woke up in this forsaken place.
"Where the hell am I?" he said aloud, his voice echoing strangely in the thin atmosphere.
To say that War Machine was merely confused about his location would be a massive understatement. The reality was that he hadn't yet grasped the full scope of his situation. Had he understood that he was no longer on Earth—no longer even in the same galaxy—his reaction would likely have matched Sam Wilson's initial panic and disbelief.
This world felt fundamentally wrong. The gravity was slightly off, the air had a different taste, and when he looked up at the night sky, what should have been familiar constellations were replaced by alien patterns. Most disturbing of all, hanging in the heavens above him was what appeared to be another planet—not a moon, but an actual world with visible continents and cloud formations.
For three consecutive days, Rhodes had been attempting to contact other members of the Avengers through every communication channel available to his armor. Radio frequencies, satellite uplinks, even emergency beacons—all met with dead silence. The growing dread in his gut told him that something was terribly, catastrophically wrong.
Fortunately, Tony's paranoid engineering habits had served Rhodes well. Every suit of Iron Man armor came equipped with emergency rations and water recycling systems—features that most people considered examples of Stark's obsessive over-preparation. Now, stranded on this barren alien world, Rhodes was grateful for his friend's "impossible to understand" attention to detail. Those supplies were the only reason he had survived the past three days.
But resources wouldn't last forever. The most pressing priorities were conserving power, finding other signs of life, and determining exactly where he was. The more he explored this wasteland, the more convinced he became that he was no longer on Earth. The strange atmospheric readings, the alien stellar configurations, and the occasional glimpse of what looked like spacecraft moving between the stars all pointed to an impossible conclusion.
After consuming some of his dwindling food supplies, Rhodes decided to take to the air again and search for any signs of civilization. The surface of this world offered nothing but endless desolation, so perhaps the answer lay somewhere among the stars.
He activated his repulsors and lifted off, the arc reactor in his chest providing steady power to his flight systems. From altitude, the scope of the planet's devastation became even more apparent. This wasn't natural geological formation—this was the aftermath of war on an unimaginable scale.
"Colonel Rhodes," FRIDAY's voice interrupted his observations, "I'm detecting a large artificial structure approximately thirty kilometers to the northeast. Configuration suggests it's a space station or orbital platform."
Rhodes felt his heart race. Whether friendly or hostile, it was the first sign of intelligent life he had encountered since awakening on this world.
"Let's go check it out," he said, increasing speed toward the coordinates.
The structure that came into view was massive—easily the size of a small city, with multiple levels and docking bays that suggested it was designed to accommodate large spacecraft. Most importantly, it showed clear signs of current occupation, with lights visible throughout its superstructure and what appeared to be active sensor arrays.
From his aerial approach, Rhodes could see a single landing platform with what looked like a humanoid figure in white armor standing guard duty. The figure's equipment and stance suggested military training and discipline.
On the landing deck of the Republic listening post, Clone Trooper CT-327, known to his brothers as "Denal," maintained his watch position. His specialized helmet featured enhanced optics that allowed him to monitor the surrounding space for any signs of Separatist activity.
"Deck watch reporting, all clear," Denal spoke into his comlink, updating the command center below.
Inside the station's monitoring room, a group of clone troopers were finding creative ways to combat the boredom that came with assignments to remote outposts. Two of them were engaged in an arm-wrestling competition while others monitored banks of sensors and communication equipment.
The holographic news feed provided background noise: "You are listening to Republic HoloNet News, broadcasting to the Grand Army of the Republic across the galaxy..."
"Yes! Pay up, Nub!" one of the clones shouted as he defeated his opponent in their contest. "Who's next? Heavy, you want to try your luck?"
"Shouldn't you be watching your sensor array instead of gambling?" asked the clone who had just entered with a data pad, his tone carrying the authority of a non-commissioned officer.
"Relax, Fives," the clone called Heavy replied with good-natured dismissal. "I've been staring at these screens for weeks. It's always the same thing—nothing but empty space and sensor shadows."
"Personally, I enjoy the quiet," Fives said, tapping his data pad. "Now come over here and sign your patrol report."
"The problem is that we should be on the front lines fighting battle droids," Heavy complained, "not sitting in some forgotten outpost playing games and filing paperwork."
"Don't mind him," said another clone nicknamed "Cutup." "He spent too much time in his growth chamber dreaming about glory."
The comment drew laughter from several troopers, while Fives simply shook his head and returned his attention to administrative duties.
"If our mission is to sit here and watch empty space," another clone added, "what was the point of all that combat training?"
"Exactly," Heavy agreed. "Fives, you might not realize it, but we're stationed at the most boring outpost on the Outer Rim."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of another clone, this one distinguished by gray markings on his armor and the bearing of a seasoned veteran.
"It's also one of the most strategically important," Sergeant O'Niner said firmly.
The room immediately fell silent as all the troopers snapped to attention, the arm-wrestling competition and casual banter coming to an abrupt halt.
O'Niner surveyed his men with the practiced eye of an experienced NCO. "I know you're all new to this assignment, but let me remind you that this listening post monitors one of the most critical shipping lanes in the Outer Rim. If Separatist forces were to destroy this facility, they could launch surprise attacks against Kamino itself."
The mention of their homeworld immediately sobered the younger clones. Kamino wasn't just the planet where they had been created—it was the source of the Republic's entire clone army. An attack there would be catastrophic beyond measure.
"I don't want to hear any complaints," O'Niner continued. "Several Jedi Generals will be conducting inspections soon, and I expect this facility to be operating at peak efficiency. Is that understood?"
"Sir, yes sir!" came the unanimous response.
Meanwhile, in the depths of space, a Republic fleet moved through hyperspace toward their assigned patrol sector. Several V-19 Torrent starfighters flew in formation around the fleet's flagship, their pilots maintaining combat readiness even in supposedly secure space.
Aboard the command vessel, Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi stood at the bridge's main viewport, gazing out at the swirling patterns of hyperspace with a troubled expression. His former Padawan, now Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, stood nearby studying tactical displays with an intensity that suggested he hadn't slept in days.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, approaching his former apprentice with concern, "you should get some rest. You've been pushing yourself too hard lately."
"I'll rest when we capture General Grievous," Anakin replied without looking up from the holographic star charts. "Clone Intelligence reported his last known position in the Balmorra system, but that was over two weeks ago. He's vanished completely."
"Perhaps he's following your example and actually taking a break for once," Obi-Wan suggested with gentle humor.
R2-D2, Anakin's faithful astromech droid, warbled what sounded like agreement with Obi-Wan's assessment.
But Anakin didn't smile at the jest. Instead, his frown deepened, and his shoulders tensed with obvious anxiety.
"What is it, Anakin?" Obi-Wan pressed. "There's something else troubling you."
Before Anakin could respond, Admiral Wullf Yularen approached the two Jedi with a formal bearing that suggested official business.
"Generals, my apologies for the interruption," Yularen said, "but Commander Cody is requesting communication. Shall I put him through?"
"Of course," Obi-Wan nodded, and moments later a small holographic image of the 212th Attack Battalion's commander appeared before them.
"General Kenobi, General Skywalker," Cody said with a respectful salute.
"Cody," Obi-Wan replied warmly. "How did the inspection go?"
"The Pastil tracking station is fully operational and reporting normal activity," Cody reported. "Captain Rex and I are proceeding to the Rishi listening post for the final inspection of this sector."
"Excellent. Report back once you've completed your evaluation of the Rishi station," Obi-Wan instructed.
"Understood, General," Cody acknowledged before ending the transmission.
"Cody is one of our most reliable commanders," Obi-Wan observed, then turned back to Anakin. "Try not to worry so much. If General Grievous shows up anywhere in this quadrant, we'll detect him long before he can cause any real damage."
"Master," Anakin said suddenly, his voice carrying a note of urgency, "do you sense anything... unusual in the Force?"
Obi-Wan's expression immediately grew serious, his Jedi senses reaching out through the mystical energy field that connected all living things.
"General Kenobi?" Admiral Yularen asked, noticing the sudden change in both Jedi's demeanor. "Is something wrong?"
After several moments of concentrated meditation, Obi-Wan opened his eyes with obvious concern.
"The Force," he said slowly, "I can feel it... shifting. Something significant is happening, or about to happen."
Anakin immediately turned to Admiral Yularen. "Alert all stations in the Rishi system. I want maximum sensor coverage and enhanced patrol schedules."
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