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#2
MAR 11 |
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“Checkmate”
The Wakandan Information Ministry was the only one of its kind on Earth. If the rest of the world ever got wind of what really went on behind its walls, the intelligence community would shift overnight like a 9.5 earthquake.
“Your reports on intelligence activity await you on the Royal Drive, my lord.”
T’Challa, King of the Wakandan Nation, gave a brief nod to his security chieftain, M’Buntu. He had just finished his morning meal and like clockwork, the briefings were coming in. “My thanks,” he said.
“I think you will find the Atlantean surveillance most intriguing today, my lord,” said M’Buntu.
“Namor is at it again, is he?” asked T’Challa with a wry grin.
“His men are encroaching on our national waters,” said M’Buntu, “but our Aquatic Corps are maintaining a sufficient presence as to dissuade the Atlanteans...so far.”
“Namor is being prudent...in his own way,” said T’Challa. “One needs to exercise patience when dealing with him.”
“As you say, my liege,” replied M’Buntu. He bowed to his king and turned to leave T’Challa with the remainder of his intelligence briefings.
T’Challa keyed up the briefings on the holographic display built into his desk. The office was adorned in the Wakandan fashion: African tribal decor combined with the most advanced technology on Earth. This office alone was plugged into nearly every information network on the globe, some honestly and some not. T’Challa made no apologies for what he did. He was protecting his nation and his people as their Chieftain, and such a duty superseded any other permutations of what the outside world saw as right and wrong.
He paged through the briefings until he came to a specific one that he reviewed first every day. This briefing contained what T’Challa considered one of the pre-eminent threats to Wakanda and the world: the small Balkan nation of Latveria ruled with an iron fist by Victor Von Doom. T’Challa always marvelled at the audacity of that man. He referred to himself as Doctor Doom, yet he had not actually graduated from any recognized collegial institution. He had of course, bestowed a doctorate onto himself via royal Latverian decree, but T’Challa still shook his head at the man. Of course, a title was no reason to look down at the man and the threat he posed. Latveria was not far away from Wakanda, much closer than Russia, Atlantis or the United States. Doom was not a man to be underestimated...and one to always be watched.
T’Challa had spies within the Latverian ministry, although they could only obtain relatively useless information or risk being revealed. Sensitive information was held within robotic drones or very few human beings. In the entire world, T’Challa considered Latveria to have the most secure and secretive state intelligence in existence. The reason for this was one simple rule: Doom trusted no one.
He scrolled down through the briefing, scanning through the usual data that was reported daily. He felt that if he had his people risking their lives to bring this to him that he was obligated to review it. He always hoped that something might reveal a weakness in Latverian security that could be exploited, but this seemed to never happen.
Then he stopped scrolling. Something had caught his attention, one brief line from his agent stationed within the Latverian Power Authority.
He transferred the data to his Kimiyo Card, an advanced mobile device the size of a credit card that would make Steve Jobs drop to his knees in tears, and left his office. If this piece of seemingly useless information was more than it seemed, then he needed his top man to assist him.
He needed the Wakandan Ministry of Information & Technology...and N’Tekna.
The Womb was perhaps the most advanced computer nexus on Earth, up there with the Baxter Building and Tony Stark’s private network, and was patched into datastreams from around the globe...and beyond.
It was maintained by only one lone woman. N’Tekna was a childhood friend of T’Challa and had even been a childhood crush for the King of Wakanda. Today, N’Tekna was an expert in datastreams and computer networking, having developed an interface to access worldwide information that she had dubbed ‘TeknaSpace’ (patent pending).
She was suspended in a harness that kept her centered in the oval-shaped room, with cables and wireless nodes implanted in her body like tentacles and spines. Her head was encapsulated in a sensory receiver helmet that gave her the appearance of a multi-eyed spider. It was through these connections and the thousands of others that fed into them that N’Tekna had her finger on the pulse of not just the planet but into the outer universe as well.
“Hello, T’Challa,” said N’Tekna before the King could hit the switch to enter the Womb. He smiled. They were beyond calling each other by any honorific other than ‘friend’.
T’Challa entered the Womb and looked up at N’Tekna. “Hard at work already,” he said. “I do hope you unplug yourself from time to time. Staying patched in all day cannot be healthy for you.”
“Oh yes,” said N’Tekna as she moved her insectoid gaze to T’Challa, “but there is so much to see and hear and feel...you should try this sometime. The Kree datafeed is exceptionally exquisite today.”
“Perhaps another time,” said T’Challa. “I need to discuss something with you that I noticed on the Latverian intelligence briefing this morning.”
“Power spike at 0345 Latverian time,” said N’Tekna. She didn’t ask like it was a question, more of a statement.
“Actually, yes,” said T’Challa. “So you noticed something was off, too?”
“I’m looking into it as we speak,” said N’Tekna. “I think your hunch will prove timely. Something definitely happened early this morning.”
“What happened?” asked T’Challa.
A holographic display generated between the two friends, a 3-D map of the Latverian nation. “Last night at approximately 0345 local time a power surge was noted in the Latverian Power Grid. It lasted for seventeen seconds and then resumed its normal operations with no issues noted. It was chalked up to sunspot activity or some other atmospheric phenomena.”
“Doom would never have his country subject to something as mundane as atmospheric phenomena,” said T’Challa. His brow furrowed. “Theories?”
“Either Doom was conducting a massive experiment that needed a boost of power…or something else caused a shift in his protected power structure.” N’Tekna tilted her head. “I lean towards #2…and here’s why.” The holographic scene shifted. “Last night our satellite surveillance of Latveria turned on for a tenth of a second.”
T’Challa hadn’t read that in his briefing. Latveria was very well cloaked, enough that all attempts at utilizing spy satellites resulted in a blackout feed when the satellite passed over Latveria. It was essentially invisible to orbital spying. It was a maddening circumstance that the Wakandans had still not found a way around.
“We actually got surveillance footage?” asked T’Challa.
“Not much to the average peeper,” said N’Tekna, “but, to me, a tenth of a second is plenty of time.”
“Doom must be having a fit,” said T’Challa. “I imagine his Minister of Security has been permanently relieved of his job and his life by now.”
“Very astute,” said N’Tekna. “I would have to agree.”
“Anything come up on that bit of surveillance?” asked T’Challa.
“Oh yes,” said N’Tekna. “Have a look at this.”
T’Challa’s eyes opened wider than they had in a long time. He was a hard man to surprise.
“I think it’s time I paid an official visit to Victor,” said T’Challa.
The aircraft landed silently on the tarmac at Doomstadt International Airport. T’Challa, in full Black Panther regalia, composed himself as the bay door dropped down to allow his exit. As he stepped out he was met by two parallel rows of Latverian Honor Guards, resplendent in red and gold livery. Their lances were adorned with ribbons, but T’Challa knew well enough any one of them could fire a blast that could disintegrate a man in an instant.
“King T’Challa,” said the beautiful woman who strode up to greet him between the two rows of guards. “I am Lucia Von Bardas, Minister of Technology for the Latervia. Our Monarch sends his regards and requests you allow us to usher you to the royal palace to break bread with him.” Her smile was dazzling…likely one of the reasons Doom had sent her rather than a higher dignitary.
“Thank you, Minister Von Bardas,” said T’Challa. “I look forward to seeing your Monarch again.”
“Please, Your Highness,” she said, “call me Lucia.” That smile again.
T’Challa, as he joined her in a private limousine, motioned for his royal bodyguards, the Dora Milaje (Wakandan for ‘Wives in Training’, although they could kill a man any dozens of ways) to join the next vehicle. They nodded in assent and stood back, but T’Challa could see his bodyguards tense at the prospect of leaving their King alone.
The limo door closed and Lucia smiled again at T’Challa. She was a distracting woman. “We’ve met before,” said Lucia.
“We have?” asked T’Challa. He thought that he would have remembered someone as striking as she.
“At the Wakandan ‘Leaping Forward’ Symposium,” said Lucia. “It was very brief, as the attack by Ultimatum did tend to take the focus of the day away from all else.”*
*See Iron Man #1 – Iron Mike
“Ah, of course,” said T’Challa. “That was a day to remember.”
“Can I ask what brings you to our country today?” asked Lucia.
“State business,” said T’Challa. “Tell me, it must be very interesting being the Minister of Technology for a country that has Victor as its leader. He is one of the most accomplished scientists on Earth.”
“That he is,” said Lucia. “It is his vision which guides our progress. Without Lord Doom, we would not be the strong nation we are.”
“I cannot argue with that,” said T’Challa. “If the circumstance would arise, I would invite you to visit Wakanda again when time allows. Our own Ministry of Information & Technology would very much like to establish closer relations with Latveria…and yourself.”
Lucia tilted her head slightly. “That sounds wonderful,” she said. “We will make it so.”
The limo slowed down as it turned through the main gates onto the Latverian Palace Grounds. The long paved road passed many landscaping marvels that impressed even T’Challa. The last time he had been here, the entire grounds were different in appearance. The work involved to transform this area would have been immense.
The car stopped and Lucia got out. T’Challa followed. Lucia motioned to the stairs leading into the Castle entrance. “You may go straight in, Your Highness,” she said. “Lord Doom awaits you in the receiving room.”
“Thank you, Lucia,” said T’Challa. He grasped her hand and made a motion to kiss it without making actual contact. “I look forward to meeting with you again.”
T’Challa looked around and saw the Dora Milaje leave their own car and he held up his hand, instructing them to stay. They nodded again and stood as still as statues. He then made his way into Castle Doom. The Castle had been destroyed and rebuilt more times than T’Challa could remember. Each time it was restored to its pristine state as if nothing had happened. T’Challa knew Doom was a powerful mage, which must be how he did it.
As T’Challa entered the main foyer, servants rushed to escort him to an adjoining room. To call it a room was an understatement…it was immense, with paintings and artwork adorning the walls and sitting on pedestals. It was as grand a room as T’Challa had ever seen.
In the center, standing with his back to T’Challa as if he were admiring a painting, was Victor Von Doom.
T’Challa walked up to Doom. He said nothing.
“This was my mother,” said Doom without looking away from the painting he admired. “Beautiful, wasn't she?”
“She certainly was, Victor,” said T’Challa.
“In many ways,” said the armoured monarch, “she is responsible for the man I am today. Moreso than any other.”
“She must have been remarkable,” said T’Challa. “Worthy of naming a mountain after her.”
“Yes,” said Doom, “she was.” He turned to face T’Challa, his green cloak billowing out around him. He extended his hand. “It is good to see you in good health, T’Challa.”
“And you as well,” said T’Challa. “Latveria prospers under your rule.”
“As does Wakanda under yours,” said Von Doom.
The two men stood silently for several seconds. Finally, T’Challa got straight to the point. “Why are you constructing a Cosmic Cube near Mount Magda, Victor?”
Doom didn’t move or betray anything in his response. “I have learned my folly with such dangerous cosmic toys.”
“I know what you are doing at your Mount Magda installation, Victor. I saw the surveillance.”
“What you call a Cosmic Cube, I call an experiment in forcefield application, T’Challa,” said Victor. “Obviously you detected the drop in my security earlier. I’m impressed.”
“No other nation on Earth would have understood what they were seeing beside my own,” said T’Challa. “SHIELD perhaps, but they haven’t realized it…if they ever will. My people are very, very good.”
“It was a momentary issue, since corrected,” said Victor. “If this was the reason for your official visit, you wasted your time.”
“What is Latverian Dataworks, Victor?” asked T’Challa.
“How do you know that name,” replied Doom. He made no effort to hide his surprise this time.
“It’s a code signature that was embedded in satellite signals within Latverian datasources at the same time as your power surge and drop in security cloaking,” said T’Challa. “It was very subtle, but it was there. Interesting that your subsidiary would sign its own work.”
“Because Latverian Dataworks has nothing to do with me or my country,” said Doom. He looked T’Challa in the eye. “My country was attacked. That is why the power surge and momentary drop in security protocols. Latveria was attacked by a very sophisticated virus.”
“One you have resolved,” said T’Challa.
“No,” said Doom as he reached out and grabbed T’Challa by the neck. “Forgive me…but my actions are not my own.” He tossed the Black Panther across the room.
“My armor systems are compromised,” said Doom. “I get close to disabling this virus and it...rewrites itself.” His gauntlet came up and aimed at T’Challa. “You have been perceived as a threat.” The gauntlet fired at T’Challa, but he was already out of the way. He leaped up and over the armored monarch and landed behind him, swiping with his Vibranium tipped claws. Sparks flew...and Doom’s armor suddenly shut down. Doom fell forwards to the floor like a statue, his pose fixed.
“I generated an EMP,” said T’Challa. “We won’t have long. Can you manually escape the armor?”
“Yes,” said Doom. “Now that the power is cut off, I can.” A puff of air came from various ports on the armor as it collapsed off of Victor, revealing a skintight bodysuit. His face was still masked, but with a smaller insert that mirrored the outer helmet.
“I...owe you my thanks,” said Doom. “This virus detected any attempt to stop it. It is almost...sentient.”
T’Challa brought out his Kimiyo Card. “If this virus is as hardy as you say, my pulse won’t work a second time. Let’s use the time wisely.” He keyed several times on it. “DoomNet? Nice name, Victor.”
“You’ve accessed my personal network?” asked Doom. “Impossible!”
“I’m piggybacking the virus’ own pathway,” said T’Challa. “I’m using a Kree algorithm. It won’t work for long.” He looked at Doom. “I need your access code.”
Doom paused. He looked down at his discarded armor then at the painting of his mother. “Magda-Richards.”
T’Challa smiled slightly under his mask. “I’m in.” He scrolled through the options. “N’Tekna, talk to me.”
“My liege,” said N’Tekna, who walked in after T’Challa disguised as one of the Dora Milaje. She was already working through her own Kimiyo Card. “This virus...is amazing. It incorporates aspects of Richards, Stark and...Wakandan code, and it is shifting constantly.”
“What does it want?” asked Doom. “It must have a purpose.”
“Wait...there,” said N’Tekna. “It’s searching for...TimeCube technology.”
“No,” said Doom. “That is my most protected secret...”
“It hasn’t found it yet,” said T’Challa. “It’s still searching.”
“Where is the TimeCube technology kept?” asked T’Challa. “Victor, that information needs to be kept from whoever created this virus.”
Doom swept his hands and chanted. “Valorum Deis Nermuni.” The three of them disappeared in a haze of magic. An instant later, they reappeared in a stainless steel chamber that was a twenty foot by twenty foot room and in the center was a computer terminal. “It is housed there,” said Doom. “There is no way they could access it. It’s closed off from the main DoomNet.”
They walked up to the terminal. “Destroy it, Victor,” said T’Challa.
“I said, it is impossible to access this,” said Doom. “The information is safe.”
The terminal came on and the screen flashed as data scrolled down at lightning speed.
“No!” said Doom as he went to the keyboard. “Impossible!” He looked down at T’Challa’s and N’Tekna’s Kimiyo Cards. “No! The virus is using your cards as wireless taps!” He waved his hands and the cards crumbled to dust.
The terminal stopped scrolling through data. A message came up onscreen.
THANK YOU.
The three returned to the foyer of the palace. Everything was functioning smoothly. Doom’s armor was under his control again. Every system was devoid of any trace of the virus.
“Your meddling caused this,” said Doom to T’Challa.
“We were both played,” said T’Challa.
“Go home,” said Doom, “Now.”
T’Challa joined his Dora Milaje in the limo and headed back to the airport. Lucia was not present. Once they were aboard their craft and into the sky, T’Challa turned to N’Tekna. “This was carefully orchestrated. I want to know by whom.”
“Yes, my liege,” said N’Tekna. “As do I.”
The pilot’s voice came over the cabin speaker. “My King, we have left Latverian airspace.”
“Very well,” said T’Challa. “Tell them to detonate.”
There was a pause as T’Challa waited. “Confirmed,” said the pilot.
“It’s done?” asked N’Tekna.
“The Cosmic Cube facility is no longer an issue,” said T’Challa. “The Panther Stealth Elite ensured that.”
“Doom will not be pleased,” said N’Tekna.
“Doom is never pleased,” said T’Challa,
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To Be Continued...
Next: In Solo Avengers #3: An untold tale from the past...starring Thunderstrike!
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