Chapter 161: Chapter 161: Back to Hala

Three days after the Hand incident, Arthur received the call he’d been expecting. He was in his study, surrounded by towers of historical texts about civil wars and their resolutions, when the Kree communicator buzzed. Carol’s voice came through, notably lighter than their last conversation. A week with her family had clearly done wonders.

“The vacation’s over. Ready to save a planet?”

“Sure, if you’re truly up for it,” Arthur replied, closing the leather-bound volume he’d been studying. “Though I still think no one will thank us for meddling in their civil war.”

“We’re not doing it for the thanks.”

Arthur quipped, “No, we’re doing it so a certain glowing woman can clear her conscience and start living her life again instead of wallowing in cosmic guilt.”

Carol’s indignation was audible even across the transmission. “You were the one who pushed me into this! I was perfectly content roaming the universe in solitary penance.”

Arthur said, “Oh, really? If you can show me one time you genuinely smiled in the past three years, except for this last week at Maria’s, I’ll believe you were ’perfectly content.’”

There was a pause, then Carol sighed. “My mistake. I should know better than to try winning an argument against you. So, are you coming, or do I have to fly for months just to get back to my spaceship?”

Arthur stood, already beginning to gather what he might need. “I would love to watch you attempt that journey, but then Monica would be furious with me for wasting her aunt’s time—time that could be better spent with her.”

“Smart man. Meet me at Maria’s in thirty minutes? I need to say goodbye properly this time.”

“On my way.”

—

Arthur arrived to find the Rambeau family on the porch, Monica clinging to Carol like she might disappear if she let go. Maria stood nearby, arms crossed, her expression torn between understanding Carol’s responsibilities and frustration at losing her again so soon.

“You just got here,” Monica was saying, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Can’t the work wait? Just a few more days?”

“I wish it could, Lieutenant Trouble.” Carol knelt down to Monica’s eye level, her voice gentle but firm. “But the responsibility I’ve taken on is important. Every day I wait, more people die in a war that might be preventable.”

“But you’ll come back?” Monica’s voice had shrunk to something small and vulnerable. “You promise? Not like last time?”

Carol looked up at Maria, who gave the slightest nod of approval. “I promise. No more three-year disappearances. Even if things go badly, I’ll check in. Monthly at minimum.”

“Weekly,” Monica countered immediately, her negotiating instincts kicking in.

“Monthly,” Maria said firmly, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Your aunt’s going to be traveling through space, baby. Communications aren’t always possible out there.”

Monica brightened slightly. “But she gave you that Kree communicator. We can talk anytime now, right?”

Maria shared a quick, conspiratorial wink with Carol. “That’s for emergencies only. Right, Carol?”

Carol picked up the cue smoothly. “Exactly. If I’m getting calls during a battle, I might get distracted. And distraction in space usually means something explodes that shouldn’t.”

Monica considered this with all the seriousness of a teenager weighing cosmic responsibilities. “Okay, but you need to be here for my birthdays. No missing those. That’s non-negotiable.”

Carol pulled her into a tight hug. “I promise. Just make sure you convince Arthur here to play intergalactic taxi service when the time comes.”

Monica turned toward Arthur with a calculating look that reminded him uncomfortably of Fury. “Well?”

Arthur gave a mock bow. “Hayes Intergalactic Transportation Services will always be at your disposal, Miss Rambeau.”

After another round of increasingly desperate hugs and extracted promises, Carol and Arthur walked to the edge of the property, where the tree line would hide their departure from any watching eyes.

“Ready?” Arthur asked, beginning to trace the familiar patterns of a portal in the air.

“Wait.” Carol took one last, long look at the farmhouse. Maria and Monica still stood on the porch, waving despite the distance. “They’re my anchor, you know? When everything seems hopeless, I think about them here, living normal lives, and it reminds me why any of this matters.”

“Hold onto that feeling. We’re going to need it.”

The portal opened onto Hala’s northern continent, the same observation point they’d used before.

—

The change was immediately apparent. The fires still burned, but fewer of them. The city below showed signs of organization—barricades, defensive positions, but also food distribution centers, medical tents. Without weapons of mass destruction, the war had become grinding attrition rather than mutual annihilation.

“So what do you think?” Arthur asked. “Is this better or worse than before?”

Carol put up her arm and her fingers dancing across the holographic interface as she scrolled through intercepted communications and news feeds. “Let me check what’s been happening since we… redistributed their weapons.”

Arthur waited, watching her expression shift as she absorbed the information. “And?”

“It’s complicated.” She magnified a data stream for him to see. “The death toll has actually increased in raw numbers. Close combat is bloodier than bombs – more casualties, though fewer instant deaths. But infrastructure damage has slowed dramatically. They’re fighting for streets instead of vaporizing entire districts. The pollution levels are dropping, and civilian casualties have decreased by nearly seventy percent. No one’s getting caught in crossfires anymore.”

“Progress of sorts, I suppose.” Arthur conjured two chairs, settling in for what would likely be a long observation session. “Though I doubt the soldiers dying appreciate the distinction.”

They spent the entire day observing, invisible to all forms of detection. They moved through both faction territories, watching, learning, understanding. Arthur carefully read surface thoughts whenever they encountered groups of Kree, fetching individual motives right from their minds.

That night, in an abandoned Kree shelter that had once been someone’s home, they discussed their options.

“I’ve been thinking,” Arthur said, manipulating the projection to show various scenarios. “What if we gave them a common enemy? Something that threatens both sides equally, forcing cooperation?”

“You?”

“Or something I create. A massive, existential threat that makes their civil war seem petty by comparison. Unite against the alien invader, discover they’re stronger together, achieve peace through shared struggle.”

Carol considered this for a long moment, absently tracing patterns on the table. “It sounds good in theory. Would definitely stop them from killing each other in the short term. Hard to maintain a civil war when alien invaders are knocking at your door. But once that threat is gone? They’ll just go back to fighting. The underlying problems remain – resource scarcity, ideological differences, historical grievances. You can’t paper over those with a temporary external threat.”

Arthur leaned back, slightly deflated. “So that’s a no? I thought it was a brilliant idea. I even had a whole backstory prepared – an alien warlord searching for a new planet to conquer, mysterious powers, dramatic speeches.”

Carol almost smiled at his enthusiasm. “It is a good idea, but for it to truly work, it would need to be long-term. Like, you actually conquer them, rule with an iron fist for a generation or two. Become such a tyrant that their hatred for each other pales compared to their hatred for you. Kill off the worst of the old prejudices through shared suffering. Then, when you’re finally ’defeated,’ maybe—maybe—they’d have learned to work together. But that’s years of commitment, not a quick fix.”

Arthur grimaced. “You’re right. I don’t care enough about the Kree to invest that kind of time and effort. I was hoping for something quicker. A month or two of work at most.”

Carol stood, pacing the small shelter. “Then we need another plan. Any more ideas rattling around in that supposedly brilliant mind of yours?”

Arthur’s expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Well, I do have one approach that I believe will work.”

Carol stopped pacing, turning to face him fully. “Then why didn’t you start with that one?”

Arthur shrugged with deliberate casualness. “The alien invader plan would have been more fun. You know—dramatic entrances, ominous threats, playing the villain. This other option is more exhausting and significantly less entertaining.”

Carol crossed her arms. “Can you please be serious for once? Lives are at stake here.”

Arthur grinned at the opening. “I can’t be Sirius—I already know one Sirius, and two would cause absolute mayhem in the world.”

Carol stared at him blankly. “What?”

“Sorry, inside joke. Wizard thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Carol rubbed her temples, a gesture she’d picked up from Maria. “Just… explain your second plan. Please. Before I decide to throw you into Hala’s sun.”

Arthur stood, his demeanor shifting completely. The joking casualness disappeared, replaced by something older, more calculating.

“Very well,” he said, his voice carrying an edge that made Carol unconsciously tense. “If we can’t unite them through external threats or force, then we’ll have to work from within. Change them at the most fundamental level.”

“What do you mean?” Carol asked, though something in his tone made her wary of the answer.

“It’s time,” Arthur said more dramatically, each word deliberate and heavy with promise, “for me to play the Dream Master.”

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