Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sharp, rhythmic sound of crustacean legs striking metal echoed through the cavernous expanse of the planetary battleship. Ben, currently transformed into his Incursean form, Bullfrag, followed Dr. Psychobos deeper into the bowel of the ship.
This wasn't just a vessel; it was a mobile fortress, and they were approaching its heart—the primary control room and master laboratory.
"Since my exodus from Encephalonus IV, I have rarely possessed the luxury of operating within such a sophisticated facility," Dr. Psychobos boasted, his voice a grating, electronic rasp.
He stopped before a massive blast door. With a twitch of the small manipulator claw on his left side, he adjusted the translation collar around his neck, then used his massive right pincer to input a rapid, complex sequence into the bio-lock.
The heavy doors hissed open, retreating into the walls to reveal a space so vast it defied immediate comprehension.
Even Ben felt a jolt of genuine shock. The laboratory stretched for kilometers in every direction, a cathedral of mad science. He and Psychobos stood at the precipice of the walkway like two insects gazing out over a metallic canyon.
But it wasn't the architecture that stopped Ben's breath. It was the occupants.
"Hehe. Magnificent, isn't it?" Psychobos chittered, his large brain pulsing beneath its glass dome. "Have you ever laid eyes upon so many To'kustars in one place?"
Rows upon rows of colossal containment silos, each hundreds of meters tall, lined the walls like skyscrapers in a dystopian city. Inside them, suspended in glowing green nutrient fluid, floated titans. They were To'kustars—Way Big's species—but they were wrong. Their skin was a sleek, obsidian black patterned with jagged red lines, and their fin-blades were sharpened for war.
Waybads, Ben realized with a sinking feeling.
To'kustars were born in cosmic storms; they were living weapons of mass destruction. A single one could obliterate a small planet. An army of this size? It was enough to bring the entire galaxy to its knees.
"After witnessing this, that simpleton Milleous should finally comprehend the magnitude of my genius," Psychobos declared, preening. "I am the greatest intellect in the galaxy!"
"I have no doubt, Doctor," Ben said, slipping easily into the smooth, confident baritone of Bullfrag. He adjusted his sunglasses, playing the part of the loyal sycophant while his mind raced for a counter-strategy. "Once Emperor Milleous sees this, he will understand that your brilliance is peerless."
"Hmph. Flattery is logical, given the evidence," Psychobos muttered, though he clearly enjoyed it.
"However," Ben pressed, trying to extract information, "I am curious. To'kustars are exceedingly rare, solitary nomads of the cosmic storms. And this isn't even our native universe. Where did you acquire the genetic stock for such a fleet?"
"A trivial obstacle for one of my mental caliber." Psychobos scuttled forward, his four spindly legs carrying his bulbous body with surprising speed. "That warlord, Milleous, has conquered dozens of systems. He acquires intelligence like a hoarder. It is no secret that the self-proclaimed 'King of Sakaar'—Ben Parker—possesses the Omnitrix. It is also a matter of record that he defeated Vilgax."
Psychobos gestured dismissively with a claw. "If one scours the battlefield data and wreckage, genetic traces are always left behind. I simply amplified the residual samples."
It wasn't just the To'kustars. To a mind like Psychobos', most species were beneath notice. But the raw destructive potential of the To'kustar genome? That was worthy of mass production.
"So," Ben ventured, "you utilized the evolutionary function? Similar to the super-energy device created by Azmuth?"
"Do not speak that name in my presence!" Psychobos snapped, electricity crackling around his pincers. "What that idiot Azmuth invented is a toy! A parlor trick! My army of Mutant To'kustars are true warriors, perfect biological machines! Comparing my work to his is an insult to science itself!"
Ben didn't flinch. He knew Psychobos's vanity was his weakness. "My apologies, Doctor. My primitive mind struggled to grasp the disparity."
Psychobos calmed down instantly, his ego stroked. "It is to be expected. I do not anticipate high-level cognitive function from a species that hasn't even fully evolved out of the swamp. Come. Observe."
He led Ben to a massive console. With a flurry of clicks, a holographic display projected two distinct DNA helixes into the air.
The first was the familiar, towering structure of a To'kustar. The second, however, made Ben's blood run cold. It was complex, ancient, and thrumming with cosmic potential.
Celestials.
"I discovered this sample whilst analyzing the data from this universe's cosmic entities," Psychobos cackled, his mandibles clicking together. "Genes of the so-called 'Gods' of this reality. The Celestials."
On the screen, the two helixes began to twist together, forcibly merged by Psychobos's algorithm.
"Ancient. Powerful. And now... mine." Psychobos watched the simulation with manic glee. "I am doing what Azmuth lacked the vision to attempt! I am fusing the raw physical might of a To'kustar with the reality-warping potential of a Celestial! I am creating a new apex predator!"
"You... intend to create a hybrid?" Ben asked, keeping his voice steady despite the alarm bells ringing in his head.
"I am the Creator of Life!" Psychobos shouted, throwing his arms up. "Azmuth preserves. I improve! I evolve!"
Ben stared at the screen. Psychobos thought he was groundbreaking, but he was already feeling this fusion power when he transform into Celestial Way Big.
"The integration requires significant processing time," Psychobos noted, glancing at a progress bar. "I hope the war lasts long enough for a field test."
He turned away from the console, dismissing the apocalyptic implications as if they were a minor detail. "That brute Milleous demands immediate results, but I operate on my own schedule. Besides, he has located that dreadful Ma Vreedle woman, so he has no shortage of disposable infantry."
Ben filed that name away. Ma Vreedle. If the Incurseans had the Vreedle family churning out clones, the ground war would be a nightmare.
"We are fortunate to be inside," Ben remarked smoothly. "If the Sakaarian Empire had to face a legion of Celestial-enhanced To'kustars, the war would be over in minutes."
"Precisely. But do not mistake my cooperation for loyalty," Psychobos sneered. "I am using Milleous as much as he uses me. My only goal is to crush Azmuth's legacy and prove my superiority. Once I have perfected my creations, this empire will be but a stepping stone."
The scientist turned to walk toward another station, leaving the console unguarded for a moment.
Ben's eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. Psychobos is brilliant, but he's sloppy.
The fusion process was automated. If Ben could introduce a subtle error—a recursive loop in the loyalty protocols, perhaps—he could rewrite the genetic coding. Instead of obeying Psychobos or Milleous, he could make the Mutant To'kustars dormant, or even loyal to the Plumbers.
Sorry, Doc, Ben thought, preparing to interface with the console. But compared to Azmuth, you're playing with crayons.
Before he could make his move, the frantic slapping of webbed feet interrupted him. An Incursean soldier rushed into the lab, skidding to a halt and saluting frantically.
"Doctor Psychobos! Urgent transmission!" the soldier croaked. "It is Princess Attea!"
"The frog girl?" Psychobos groaned, rolling his eyes. "Why must I be plagued by royalty? Very well. Put her through."
A massive holographic screen flickered to life above them. The image of Princess Attea, daughter of Emperor Milleous, filled the display.
"Who do you think you're ignoring, you overgrown crab?" Attea shrieked, her voice shrill and commanding. "I am—"
She stopped mid-rant. Her large, bulbous eyes locked onto the figure standing next to Psychobos.
Ben, in his Bullfrag form—tall, muscular, with a puffed chest and an air of effortless cool—leaned casually against the console.
Attea's pupils dilated. Her hands clasped together involuntarily, and her angry scowl melted into a look of sheer, unadulterated infatuation.
"Who..." she breathed, her voice jumping an octave, "...is that handsome specimen?"
Ben suppressed a groan. Not this again. But he snapped to attention, flashing a charming, confident grin. "Reporting to Your Highness. I am Private Bullfrag."
"Bullfrag..." Attea tested the name on her tongue like a fine wine. "You should call me Future Empress Attea... no, call me the Goddess of the Galaxy... actually," she giggled, twisting a lock of imaginary hair, "you can just call me Attea. Forget the protocol."
She leaned closer to the camera, ignoring Psychobos entirely. "Which unit are you assigned to? I'm transferring you to my personal guard immediately. I have had enough of looking at these skinny, dry-skinned runts." She shot a glare at her own crew off-screen. "It's tragic, really."
Psychobos stepped into the frame, blocking Ben from view. "Princess Attea. This is my assistant. He is currently occupied with matters of higher intelligence. State your business."
Attea's face soured instantly as the crab blocked her view of the hunk. She crossed her arms, huffing. "Fine. Ruin the mood."
She cleared her throat, trying to regain her warlord composure. "I have captured high-value prisoners from the Sakaar Empire. I thought you might be interested."
The camera angle shifted, revealing two energy cages behind her.
Ben's hearts skipped a beat.
Inside the first cage sat Looma Red Wind, the four-armed Tetramand warrior queen. She looked furious, battering the energy field with silent rage. In the second cage sat Felicia Hardy—the Black Cat. She looked unhurt but frustrated, pacing the small confines of her cell.
Ben's grip on the console tightened, the metal groaning slightly under his fingers. How? Looma is a powerhouse. Felicia is slippery. How did Attea get the drop on both of them?
"Is that... the Red Wind Queen?" Psychobos asked, his interest piqued.
"The current Champion of Sakaar," Attea confirmed smugly. "And the other one is some Earthling vigilante. But that's not the prize. The prize is the technology they were transporting. Tetramand engine cores. I know you're the only one who can crack their encryption, Psychobos."
"Hehe. You know me well," Psychobos admitted, his greed for technology overriding his annoyance. "The propulsion systems of Khoros are fascinatingly brutish. I want them. Send the prisoners to me immediately."
"Hey! Hold your horses, crab-face!" Attea snapped. "Bullfrag is an Incursean! He belongs to the Empire, which means he belongs to me! I don't need your permission to transfer him."
She leaned forward, her expression turning conspiratorial. "I'll give you the prisoners and the tech. But I want you to do one thing for me."
Psychobos tapped his claws impatiently. "Speak."
"When the Galactic Conference begins," Attea said, a dark grin spreading across her face, "I want your Mutant To'kustars to obey my command codes. Not my father's."
Psychobos paused, a gurgling laugh escaping his throat. "Are you planning a coup d'état, Princess?"
"Don't use such ugly words," Attea dismissed with a wave of her hand. "I'm just... helping my father into an early retirement. He's getting old. Fat. Slow. It's time for new management."
Psychobos shrugged, his indifference palpable. "It makes no difference to me which amphibian sits on the throne, as long as my research is funded. Milleous is an arrogant bore regardless. I accept your terms."
"Excellent," Attea purred. "But there's one more condition."
"Yes?"
"You hand over Ben Parker to me once he's captured," she said, her eyes narrowing. "I want to see what the 'King of Sakaar' looks like broken."
Psychobos cackled. "Deal. I only require his Omnitrix and genetic samples. The rest of the carcass is yours to discard."
"Perfect," Attea beamed, her gaze drifting back to where Ben was standing. "Now... send Bullfrag to my shuttle. Immediately."
"As you wish," Psychobos muttered, cutting the feed.
He turned to Ben, a cruel amusement in his eyes. "Well, 'Private Bullfrag.' It seems you have a new assignment. Try not to let her distract you from the mission. We still have a universe to conquer."
Ben saluted, keeping his face impassive behind the sunglasses. "Sir, yes, sir."
As he turned to leave, his mind was already formulating a new plan. He had to get to Attea's ship. He had to save Felicia and Looma. And if Attea wanted a rebellion?
Well, Ben Parker was more than happy to give her one.
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