[Time: 6:21 AM – 1 Month After First Moon Landing]
The sun hadn't fully risen yet, but inside the underground Starfire hangar, the temperature was already climbing.
The ship stood suspended on its elevated service cradle. Panels were open across its surface, coolant lines hanging, reactor shielding exposed, nanite reinforcers crawling slowly over the hull, rewriting structure at the molecular level. Overhead, massive robotic arms were rotating the backup fusion plates into position.
Tony stood on a catwalk high above the deck, hands on the railing, eyes scanning a projected overlay hovering midair. The heat map pulsed in red.
> FTL Engine Core Status: 117% baseline output. Thermal saturation within 42 seconds. Core coolant pipes: 68% efficiency.
He sighed and muttered, "Too damn hot for something we haven't even pushed past Mars yet."
Down below, Johnny Storm was on his back beneath the ship's auxiliary heat sink array, covered in sweat and grease, muttering curses through a bite wrench. "I told you we should've split the loop through two layers instead of one; this entire section's bottlenecking under pressure."
"You also told me fusion paint would reflect solar flares," Tony called back, "and the last time we tried that, the panel flaked like a croissant at Mach 3."
Johnny grinned. "Which is why we're replacing them with flared adamantium mesh now. I learn. Slowly."
A few feet away, Ben Grimm was hunched over a set of shock-absorption pylons, tightening massive bolts with a torque wrench bigger than most people's legs.
"These stabilizers weren't built for prolonged magnetic pull," Ben said, voice gruff but steady. "If we hit turbulence near a gravity eddy, they'll shear."
"Noted," Tony said, swiping the data into a task queue. "Reinforce them with double-density damping foam. The kind we tested for Jupiter re-entry sims. Should absorb G-force drag without cracking the casing."
Behind him, holographic readouts rotated through worst-case scenarios:
—Solar Flare Blast Impact: 76% hull survival
—Radiation Pulse Delay: 3.6 seconds (too long)
—FTL Exit Jump Margin: 5.3 km off-target
And no margin for error.
Every system needed to be perfect.
Not just space-ready, but sun-ready.
No rescue crews. No backup ships. No radio help if something went sideways.
It had to work.
"Hermes," Tony said, turning toward the central console. "Initiate full-environment test cycle. Conditions: High solar wind, 300% UV saturation, mixed radiation spectrum, and simulated debris field from coronal mass ejection."
"Confirmed," the AI replied. "Initializing simulation. All personnel, brace for internal gravity shifts."
The room dimmed. A protective dome sealed around the main core chamber.
Inside, the Type-Zero suits powered on.
Five humanoid forms stood in the center of the test zone, suits adjusting themselves as the temperature began to spike. The air shimmered from rising energy waves. Plasma vents hissed. Radiation simulators lit the walls with blue-white flickers.
The suits flexed in unison: helmets scanning, backs glowing faintly as their independent propulsion systems engaged.
Sue stood outside the dome, eyes narrowed as she monitored neural sync rates and biometrics. "Heart rate oscillation is within limits. Radiation shielding is holding at 98.7%. But feedback on the tactile interface is a bit slow."
"Slow equals dead," Tony said sharply. "Recalibrate the suit firmware. Drop the buffer delay to half a millisecond."
Sue was already typing. "Done."
The suits began running drills.
Lunges, leaps, coordinated evasions—one suit simulated a hull breach while another simulated solar exposure. Auto-seal functions kicked in. Smart fluid barriers hardened.
Test results:
Seal breach response: 0.4s
Internal temperature spike: Neutralized
Radiation counter-absorption: Holding
Tony exhaled. "Okay. That's one part of the equation."
"Still need to test sustained FTL stress on the human nervous system," Sue added, glancing at him. "You really want to risk it with people onboard?"
"No. But we're out of time," he said. "We test in two days. With us in the seats."
"Pilot candidates?"
"Count me in," Yelena said, walking forward. "I got nothing better to do, so might as well be for help."
"Nope. I'll go. Can't always stay behind. Johnny, you are with me," Tony said, turning toward him.
"Yes!" Johnny jumped up. "Finally, some real action."
...
[Time: 6:02 AM – Day of the Manned FTL Test]
Inside the prep bay, the team suited up.
Tony's nanite suit crawled across his skin like liquid steel, layering itself seamlessly. The plates settled around his spine and limbs. Power readings synced to the neural link embedded in his collarbone.
Johnny stood to his left, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. He activated the nanites, and they flowed over his body, forming a suit. It's same as Tony's.
"Feels like I'm stepping into a goddamn sci-fi dream. Please tell me there's a laser sword somewhere in this thing."
"Behave and I'll let you borrow a plasma cutter," Tony replied, glancing at the mission clock. "Now stop talking. Focus."
They boarded the ship.
Inside the sealed cockpit...
Tony sat in the left command chair. Hands steady. Eyes locked on the forward HUD. His vitals were green across the board. Core temperature, oxygen levels, neural sync, nanite retention... all perfect.
"Hermes," he said aloud, "activate internal grav-cushion. Pre-launch mode."
"Confirmed," Hermes replied. "Pressure systems engaged. Navigation locked. Solar wind forecast nominal. FTL aperture precharging."
Beside him, Johnny flexed his fingers in the co-pilot seat, then looked down at the interface embedded in his forearm display. He let out a slow whistle.
"This thing has enough computing power to simulate weather on Jupiter and still stream The Godfather in 4K."
Tony didn't look over. "Focus."
"Focused. Just... impressed."
"Take us out of Earth's atmosphere," Tony ordered.
"Affirmative," Hermes replied.
The Earth slipped away fast, shrinking in the rear display. Clouds curled like slow-moving waves. The ship passed the Kármán line without turbulence, soundless and smooth, its grav-null system absorbing every bit of force.
Johnny stared out the side viewport, eyes wide. "Okay… okay, this is surreal."
"Eyes front," Tony said. "We're not out here to sightsee."
Hermes spoke through the cockpit. "You have cleared exo-atmosphere. Trajectory is stable. Energy levels optimal."
Tony's fingers danced across the main controls. Systems confirmed. Fusion sync steady. External temperatures: stable. Hull response at 99.3%. Perfect conditions.
He turned to Johnny. "You ready?"
Johnny snapped out of his daze and nodded. "Let's do this."
"FTL drive, standby mode," Tony said.
Hermes responded. "Engaging containment field. Routing power to the core conduit. Initiating aperture fold in five… four… three…"
The lights inside the cockpit dimmed.
Outside the ship, the space around the hull shimmered like bending glass. Vibrations hummed deep in the structure, not mechanical but resonant. The forward field bent in on itself, folding space like a sheet of paper tugged from both ends.
"…two… one…"
The ship vanished.
There was no flash. No sound.
Just a snap.
And then silence.
Inside, everything froze for a split second. The stars outside warped into long lines, curving around a central point. Space looked like it was collapsing forward. Time distorted slightly—perception thinned.
Then the ship stabilized.
Hermes' voice came through again, smooth and unshaken. "FTL successful. Distance traveled: 178 million kilometers. Arrival zone: Martian Orbit."
Johnny blinked hard. "Wait… that's it? We're here?"
Tony checked the systems. Mars was right in front of them. Red and looming. The dust storms are visible even from this range. Orbit speed synced. No damage.
"We're here," Tony said.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, letting the weight of it settle in.
The readings were clean. No systems overheating. No nerve degradation. Johnny's vitals were stable, if elevated... adrenaline spike. Understandable.
"FTL stress test complete," Hermes confirmed. "Neural latency: 0.0021 seconds. Core temperature normalized. No deviation. All systems normal."
Johnny looked over, stunned. "You just cracked faster-than-light travel… and it felt like nothing."
"It wasn't nothing," Tony said. "The ship bent the rules of physics in half and wrapped them around a gravitational tunnel like a pretzel. That kind of energy could burn through Jupiter if we lost control. It worked because everything was perfect."
"And because I helped upgrade the cooling system," Johnny added with a grin.
Tony smiled. "That helped."
From orbit, Mars was quiet. Peaceful. The ship hovered with perfect calibration. Below them, the red dust swirled across long-dead riverbeds and canyon ridges.
Tony stared down at it for a few moments, then tapped the console.
"Begin remote terrain scan. Full atmospheric pull. Soil analysis, radiation profile, electromagnetic drift. I want it all in the next five minutes."
Hermes acknowledged. "Initiating orbital scan."
Johnny leaned back, hands behind his head. "You think we'll ever build on this place?"
"Yeah, why not? I'll give you a call," Tony replied. "But we gotta survive our mission sun."
The cockpit remained silent for a moment.
They just watched the view...
Then, after the scan was completed, Hermes spoke again. "Scan completed. Return window optimal in 36 seconds. FTL corridor remains open. Recommend return to minimize strain."
"Take us home," Tony said.
The engine pulsed again. Light twisted. Time blinked.
And they were gone.
...
[Starfire Base, Earth Orbit]
The ship reappeared like a thought. No explosion. No sonic boom.
Just presence.
The command deck lit green.
"Hermes," Tony said, voice calm. "Broadcast mission success to all channels. And tell the others… we're ready."
Down below, on the command floor, Sue Storm got the ping.
Yelena leaned forward. "They made it?"
Sue smiled. "They made it."
..
[Mission Command Meeting Room]
The room was quiet when Tony walked in.
Floor-to-ceiling displays lit the walls, cycling through data from the FTL test: star maps, stress curves, vitals, telemetry. One still image showed the ship in Martian orbit, red dust visible beneath it.
Howard stood near the table, arms folded, already scanning the brief. Susan sat next to him, reviewing radiation maps. Johnny leaned back in a chair with his boots on the table. Ben stood against the far wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Elena, now in her new physical body, leaned on the console near the door. She looked exactly like a human. The nanite-adamantium shell fit her like she was born in it.
Yelena and Natasha entered last, side by side.
Tony walked to the head of the table and placed a small black drive onto the surface. Instantly, the display behind him synced.
"FTL drive: stable. Hull integrity: Optimal. Crew vitals during transit: optimal. It's time," He looked up. "We leave in forty-eight hours."
Johnny gave a low whistle. "Two days? Damn. I was hoping we'd get a week to celebrate."
Ben grunted. "We ain't going on vacation."
Susan leaned forward, her voice calm but sharp. "We have a flight path locked?"
Tony nodded. "Sun-side orbit. Heliosphere arc sweep. Six-step jump sequence. We drop drones first to map the solar wind. Elena will help run diagnostics in real time. Then we follow in tight formation."
Howard gave him a look. "You're flying blind into a solar storm. Even with shielding, we're not sure what's going to hit us."
Tony met his gaze. "Which is exactly why we're going. Because if we don't map it ourselves, we'll never build anything beyond it. We're done guessing. We do it. Or we stay grounded forever."
Yelena stepped forward. "Then I'm coming with you."
Tony didn't blink. "No."
Her expression tightened. "Why not? I've been cleared for flight. I've trained harder than half your roster. You're walking into the most dangerous star in our system, and I've had your back through worse."
Natasha's voice cut in. "If she's going, I am too."
Tony looked at her. He didn't say anything at first.
"I know what you are thinking," Yelena frowned. "We're not glass. We can handle it."
Tony sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It's not about handling it. It's about who's watching the Earth while we're up there. We need a rescue team ready all the time. The secondary ship that Elena and Dad made would be able to endure our target location for at least 30 minutes. And it got FTL. So, it should be enough to bring us back if something happens up there. And I need you, Yelena, to be on standby. You get it?"
He turned and tapped a panel. Dozens of maps lit up. Power grids. Reactor sites. StarkTech installations. Medical hubs. Law enforcement overlays. The Earth had changed in six months. It was running cleaner, smarter, and freer... but it was still new. Still fragile.
Tony's voice was quiet now. "Someone's got to make sure everything we built doesn't fall apart while we're gone. Someone I trust. You will be in charge of everything, Nat."
Yelena clenched her jaw. "That's not fair."
Tony didn't argue. "I know."
He turned to Howard. "Dad, keep the power balanced. Keep my inventions out of corrupt hands. Keep the reactors from being turned into politics."
Howard gave a slow nod. "I'll hold the line."
Tony looked back at his crew.
"Susan, Johnny, Ben, you're my primary mission team. You've all been briefed. You've all trained. You've all worked too hard to get here."
Johnny grinned. "Let's light it up."
"Take a break. Wrap up the loose ends. Don't leave anything you'd regret later," Tony said in a low voice. "Dismissed."
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