Chapter 29 – The Call from the Stars (Part 1)
Near Jupiter Orbit – The Statesman
The distress beacon flared weakly against the dark, its signal half-buried under cosmic static.
"…mayday… this is the Asgardian ship Statesman… multiple systems failing…"
JOKASTER, Stark's orbital AI relay, intercepted it instantly.
"Priority: humanitarian SOS. Routing to Earth-Command frequency—Stark Tower."
Stark Tower – Fabrication Lab
Tony Stark squinted at the glowing schematics of Peter's Iron-Spider MAC-03 suit, a line of vibranium filament half-drawn through a printer when Friday's voice chimed overhead.
"Incoming distress signal, Boss. Source: outer-Jovian range. Ship ID reads Statesman."
Tony froze mid-gesture. "Patch me through."
Static crackled then a familiar voice, hoarse but unmistakably regal.
"Tony? Sheild brother, is that you?"
"Thor?" Tony's jaw dropped.
"Aye," Thor coughed out a laugh. "We've… three thousand souls aboard. Injured, sick. The ship's lost landing gear and stabilizers. We need aid."
Tony exhaled, tension snapping into command mode. "Okay, listen to me, Point-Break. I'm dispatching JOKASTER's drones to guide your descent. Head for Earth, New York perimeter. You'll land at the Upstate Compound. We'll patch you up there."
"Glad to hear from you, Man of Iron," Thor said, voice weary but grateful. "Truly glad."
"Yeah, yeah, save the flattery for when I'm not juggling orbital re-entry math."
Earth – Tony's Command Feed
"Friday," he barked, fingers already flying across holographic keys. "Deploy Legion B units to assist landing. Medical Level Four readiness at the Compound. Alert Rhodey and Strange Asgardians incoming with heavy casualties."
"On it, Boss. Estimated arrival: forty-eight minutes."
Tony's mind raced. "Can we accommodate three thousand refugees?"
"Negative, Boss. Current housing capacity capped at eight hundred."
"Right," Tony muttered. "Then we get creative."
Within ten minutes he was on holo-calls with heads of state. The King of the Netherlands offered room for 1,500 souls if it didn't destabilize trade budgets. Others declined politely, citing 'xenobiological infrastructure concerns.'
Tony's jaw tightened. "So much for cosmic compassion."
Friday's hologram flickered beside him.
"Might I suggest another approach? You have the capital to purchase undeveloped land outright. A country, perhaps. One with minimal population and the need for reconstruction. You'd retain control and keep them together."
Tony blinked. "You're suggesting I buy a country?"
"I am suggesting you invest in one, Boss."
He rubbed his temples. "God, I hate how good that sounds. Send the Idea to Rhodey, Pepper and Strange for review."
Sublevel R&D Labs – Chaos, As Usual
Downstairs, the world's youngest geniuses were oblivious to interplanetary crises.
Peter and Ned's creative marathon had slowed into that delirious, half-functional zone between genius and collapse when the lab doors slid open.
A bleary-eyed Stark Industries intern stumbled in, clutching a data-pad. He looked from the soldering table to the glitter-eyed teenagers to the half-assembled cat-bot.
"Uh… hi," the intern croaked. "Are you—are you Mr. Stark's intern?"
Peter blinked. "Technically, yes?"
The intern sank to his knees. "Then please, for the love of God, help me. The new Stark Roomba prototype keeps missing its right-side sensors and ramming into walls!"
Ned's head snapped up. "Wait, again?"
"I've tried everything," the intern wailed. "Diagnostics, recalibration, exorcism nothing!"
Peter sighed, already setting his tools down. "Fine, I'll take a look. Just, stop crying on the floor, man."
Within seconds, the intern had dragged Peter out the door toward another lab, babbling gratitude the whole way. Ned followed with a resigned groan and a data-tablet under his arm.
That left Vision standing alone in the quiet lab beside Sir Whiskers 0.5, who was softly humming "Shake It Off" from his charging pad.
The synth tilted his head, bemused. "Curious choice of anthem," he mused.
Sir Whiskers purred back, "It's a mood, daddy."
Vision blinked. "I must speak to Ned about this personality matrix."
(Part 2)
Stark Tower – Command Level
Friday's voice cut through the hum of overlapping holo-screens.
"Boss, incoming three-way call Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes."
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Patch them in."
The air shimmered and split into two blue projections: Pepper Potts, poised and sharp in a business suit, and Rhodey, helmet tucked under one arm, still in partial War Machine armor.
"Tony," Pepper started immediately, "I just got your message about the Asgardians and your plan to buy a country. Please tell me that was metaphorical."
Tony swirled the dregs of his coffee, deadpan. "Define metaphorical."
Rhodey groaned. "Man, you can't just buy a country. International law would lose its collective mind."
Pepper crossed her arms. "And PR would implode. You think the UN's thrilled about aliens on Earth as it is? Imagine the headlines: Tony Stark Purchases Sovereign Nation for Space Gods."
Tony gave a shrug that somehow managed to be both sarcastic and exhausted. "It's catchy. Rolls right off the tongue."
"Tony."
"Alright, alright." He dragged a hand through his hair. "So what's the alternative, since Earth apparently has a 'no gods allowed' policy now?"
Pepper exhaled, tone shifting from frustration to focus. "You continue negotiate. This time bring in the Stark Legal Division and your diplomatic team. Offer the governments Stark Industries' tech incentives renewable power grids, med-tech, advanced construction materials. They'll listen if there's benefit in it."
Tony leaned back, considering. "Leverage kindness through capitalism. That's… diabolically on-brand."
"Meanwhile," Pepper continued, "you buy more land upstate, expand the compound. Build temporary housing, food storage, energy arrays. Make it look like you were already planning humanitarian expansion."
Rhodey cut in before Tony could respond. "Or and hear me out skip politics altogether. You can't buy a country, but you can buy an island. Big one. Private. Build what you need, run it under international relief status. No red tape, no Senate hearings."
Tony blinked. Then grinned. "Rhodey, that's why I keep you around you make world-saving sound like a real estate venture."
"Hey, it worked for Wakanda."
"Friday," Tony said, clapping his hands, "please tell me there are islands on the market big enough for three thousand Vikings with bad drinking habits."
"Negative, Boss. While several islands meet the spatial criteria, all are under either military lease, tourism designation, or ecological protection."
Tony frowned. "So, none for sale."
"Not directly, sir. However, while you cannot purchase a country, you can buy land within one. For example, the United States acquired Alaska from Russia in 1867."
Tony sighed, rubbing his temple. "Great, I still have to play politics. Wake me when capitalism wins."
Pepper's smile softened just slightly. "You'll make it work, Tony. You always do."
"Yeah," Rhodey added. "Just try not to cause an international incident before lunch."
"Can't promise anything," Tony muttered, already scrolling through maps of the North Atlantic.
Kamar-Taj – Council Chamber
Half a world away, Stephen Strange stood beneath the high, golden domes of Kamar-Taj, the air humming faintly with warding energy. His meeting with the elder monks and sorcerers had just ended when Friday's message shimmered into existence on his phone
He read it once. Then again.
Asgardians. Survivors. Thousands of them.
He turned immediately toward the circle of gathered Masters. "I've received word from Tony Stark. The ship Statesman, carrying what remains of Asgard is inbound. Many injured."
The eldest monk's brows furrowed. "Asgard. Their kind have long dismissed their Mystic Arts as lesser craft."
"Yes," Stephen said evenly. "But they are allies now or will be. Thanos destroyed their most of their remaining survivors. What's left of them needs sanctuary."
The old monk stepped forward, authority settling in his voice. "I'm invoking the Accord of Sanctum Hospitality. Any Asgardian who arrives with peaceful intent is to be granted access to our temples. Food, healing, protection."
Murmurs rippled through the room surprise, then solemn agreement.
Stephen inclined his head in gratitude. "Prepare medical sorcerers. Send them to the Upstate landing site. I'll coordinate with Stark directly."
The elders bowed their assent. Strange opened a golden portal, his cloak fluttering in the surge of wind. "And if anyone questions this alliance," he added quietly, "remind them that mercy isn't a weakness. It's survival."
He stepped through and vanished.
Moments later, Tony's communicator buzzed.
STRANGE: "The temples and sanctums are open to Asgardian refugees. Medical aid en route. You'll have field medics within the hour."
TONY: "You're a lifesaver, Mer— Marlin. Didn't think your magic monasteries did diplomacy."
STRANGE: "We do compassion, Stark. Occasionally, it overlaps."
The Compound – Afternoon
By the time the Statesman entered the atmosphere, the mood at the Upstate Compound had changed entirely.
The air was sharp with tension. Medical staff raced to set up triage stations. Cargo bays were cleared, shields raised to protect incoming vessels.
Doctor Helen Cho was already en route from Stark tower, her medical pods on standby.
Mercenaries moved into position. Drones swept the perimeter.
And across the training deck, the so-called rogue Avengers Steve, Natasha, Sam, Wanda all exchanged wary looks.
Something big was coming.
But no one yet knew just how big.