THE U.S. MILITARY BASE WAS NESTLED DEEP IN THE Arctic, a mystery to even those stationed there. Strong gale winds blew snow and ice around furiously, all but hiding the institution from spy satellites and other international observers. Whiteouts were a common occurrence amid such primal and vicious weather, so far from the shelter of the civilized world. When the winds died down, the base’s structure became a bit clearer: one building for housing, one for operations, and a large hangar to house the swiftest and most powerful military jets. The night sky, here at the top of the world, was clear and bright, the silver stars casting a white light across the deep, inky night. Beyond anything within the United States, beyond Guantánamo Bay, this isolated and top secret base in the middle of nowhere was reserved for the U.S. military’s most dangerous captives, the ones needing the most persuasion to cooperate. Even the most recalcitrant prisoner could turn helpful here in the center of nothing, with only miles and miles of blistering white to be seen in every direction.

General Hager and Captain Raye watched the arrival of the prisoner from their safe and relatively warm vantage point inside the main entrance of the base. Heavily armed soldiers in thick parkas and gloves unloaded the Surfer. Chains bound his wrists, holding them firmly behind his back. His feet were similarly shackled, with a loose piece of chain between them, allowing him to walk from the transport helicopter to the base. Duct tape was used to keep him blind, unsure of his steps, vulnerable. The Surfer displayed no reaction to the vicious cold as he was moved outside, the soldiers pushing him along with their thick guns, steam escaping from their mouths with each frigid word uttered. Another dozen guards, also heavily armed, stood waiting to receive the prisoner. General Hager grunted with satisfaction at the sight of the captured and bound Surfer.

Reed, Victor, and the others were not privy to the sight, having been brought in under military escort and taken to a conference room in the rear of the facility. Hager surmised that they had served their purpose; he would ship them out of here as soon as the prisoner was secured and he could spare a pilot to fly them away. But for now, they would be kept under guard. Out of his way.

Hager and Raye silently walked the short distance to the rear conference room where the Four were waiting. He was keeping them under close guard, not wanting any surprises until the Surfer was locked safely in the base’s special holding cell. But it wasn’t long before he heard a commotion and the brisk voices of the guards coming through the partially opened door of the room.

Reed’s face showed his obvious concern over the treatment of both his team and the prisoner.

“We had an agreement, General,” Reed said, his words heated and loud.

“Calm down,” the general replied. “The enemy’s been captured. Mission accomplished.” He pasted a smile on his face, trying to sound convincing.

“Where is he?” Sue asked, locking eyes with General Hager.

“Contained,” the general said.

Victor stepped to the forefront. “And his board?” he asked.

Captain Raye spoke up. “It’s in a chamber that continuously scrambles the signal.” Victor eyed Raye in a way that made her skin crawl.

Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of heavy wheezing. A chill swept through the room as if someone had just opened a window, letting in the arctic blasts of air. Hager turned to see a short, bald man standing in the doorway. His eyes were shielded behind large mirrored goggles that gripped his pale, thin-skinned skull tightly. A long mink coat was wrapped around his slight shoulders and gathered gently at his feet. One of the man’s frail, pale hands emerged from the sea of mink, holding the coat close around his chest. The short pink digits of his hand had long, tapered nails that looked a slightly polished. The wheezing continued as the short man looked around the room, his gaze finally coming to rest on the general.

While the others started at the strange-looking vision in the doorway, General Hager didn’t miss a beat. “Mr. Sherman,” the general said, trying hard to smile. “Good to see you. We could use your help.”

The eerie little man didn’t move but stood frozen in the doorway. His voice, when he spoke, held undercurrents of malice. “Take me to it,” he wheezed.

General Hager brought his hands together with a loud clap, stirring the room’s occupants from their momentary stupor. “If you’ll all excuse us,” he said, sounding as businesslike as possible, “we have work to do.”

Reed approached the general, keeping one eye on the figure in the doorway. “I’d like to be present for questioning,” he said.

The general kept walking toward the door, barely acknowledging Reed’s request, saying only, “Not going to happen.” He led the diminutive man out of the doorway and into the hall, then turned and stopped the five in their tracks with a look. With one gesture from the general the guards in the room followed him out and positioned themselves on the other side of the door. “Please make sure our guests remain here comfortably,” Hager said in a clipped tone before shutting the door behind him.

Hager passed through the long, cold hallways of the arctic base, leading Mr. Sherman through a series of armed checkpoints until they reached their destination. Termed the “guest center” on all official documents, the area was little more than a high-tech prison. State-of-the-art locking mechanisms and surveillance equipment made the individual cells impervious to even the idea of escape. A mélange of lights, lasers, tools, and other items of coercion were carefully secreted behind locked cabinet doors. A number of trained intelligence officers, each known officially as a “concierge,” were employed at the base to see that each guest earned his keep in providing whatever information was deemed necessary by the military. General Hager carefully dismissed the staff present in the information center, with the exception of his armed escort. Once they were alone, General Hager led Mr. Sherman to the cell holding the Silver Surfer. He punched the secret security code into a small keypad on the wall and the double doors opened swiftly and silently. The two men entered the room.

The cell was a small, square room with padded walls. A small porthole was situated on the wall farthest from the door, displaying the great expanse of white nothingness outside. The Surfer’s arms and legs were bound by newly developed restraints that could absorb many types of energy and explosions without effect. The restraints were chained to the floor, thereby rendering movement almost impossible. The Surfer sat on his knees in the empty, cold cell.

He stared ahead silently, impassively, making no sign of acknowledgement that others had entered the room. He seemed focused on some other place, his silver-pooled eyes lost to the details around him. General Hager allowed Mr. Sherman to enter the cell, while he remained in the doorway, watching.

Mr. Sherman doffed his mink coat, which floated to the ground around him. He brought his pale hands together, the tips of his sharp nails resting against one another. His white face lit up at the sight of the silver being, his eyes traveling all over the Surfer’s tarnished and dull skin.

“I’ve always imagined what it would be like to meet a real live alien,” Mr. Sherman spoke in a wheeze, just above a whisper. “Ever since I was a child. And now,” he said, a thin smile spreading across his face, “here you are.” Mr. Sherman slowly circled the bound Surfer as he spoke, observing every inch of the specimen. The Surfer continued to stare into space, oblivious to the words of the small, menacing man near him.

Mr. Sherman stopped directly in front of the Surfer. He was almost at eye level with the bound alien, and spoke directly into his face. “There is so much we can learn from each other. Like what powers does that board of yours have, and how do we access them?”

No response, eliciting a sigh from Mr. Sherman. “There are some things that I am not permitted to do because they’re considered human-rights violations…” he said, letting his voice trail off into the empty space of the cell. They bent over, staring hard at the Surfer’s passive face. “Fortunately, you’re not human.”

Back in the rear conference room, the Fantastic Four were stewing about their treatment at the hands of the U.S. military. Guards continued to stand outside the door of the room. Victor kept his distance from the others, staring out the window at the endless white landscape around them. Reed huddled close to Sue, Ben, and Johnny, discussing their current situation.

“Are we prisoners?” Johnny fumed. “’Cause that just blows.”

“Apparently they don’t want us interfering with their methods,” Reed said, nodding toward the guarded door.

“I hate to think what they’re doing to him in there,” Sue added, crossing her arms in front of her. The very idea of it gave her a chill.

Ben seemed unconcerned about the Surfer’s welfare. “I say he deserves what he gets,” he stated loudly.

Sue turned to him with a look of disbelief. “What?! I can’t believe you mean that!”

Ben held his rocky hands out in front of him. “I’m just saying. Maybe the general is right about this. The guy was about to destroy the planet. He said so himself.”

Sue dismissed Ben’s comment immediately. “It doesn’t make sense. He protected me from those missiles. Why would he do that?”

Reed agreed with Sue. “There’s more going on here. He said he wasn’t the destroyer.”

Ben waved his hand at Reed. “He could’ve been lying to mess with our heads.”

Reed rubbed his jaw as he spoke. “I just wish we had some way of knowing what’s going on in there.”

Sue’s eyes lit up. “Who says we don’t?” she said, giving her brother a knowing look.

A few moments later, Johnny opened the door to the conference room. The two guards, holding large automatic guns, immediately sprung to attention. Their stance was not overly aggressive, but it was clear there was no going past them. Johnny put on his most innocent face.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, holding his hands up. “We were just hoping to get some DVDs to pass the time. Maybe some popcorn?”

“I’ll call it in, Mr. Storm,” the first guard said.

“Thanks,” Johnny replied. “Semper Fi!”

“That’s the Marine Corps,” the second guard remarked, a look of contempt on his face. “We’re the Army.”

“Sorry,” Johnny said, staying in full view of the guards while, out of the corner of his eye, he noted a familiar ripple of air down the hallway. It was his sister, invisible to the human eye, making her covert getaway.

Sue maintained her invisibility as she hurried away from the conference room and down into the main part of the base. She soon entered a long stretch of concrete hallways with numerous locked doors. Focusing intently, she cast a spotlight over each door she encountered, using her powers to make them invisible as well, so that she had visual access to the rooms’ contents. She searched several rooms in this fashion until she reached the main intelligence center. Staying close to the walls, she threw her spotlight onto the closed door of the Surfer’s cell. She could see the Surfer, bound on the floor, his head against his chest, prostrate in front of Mr. Sherman and General Hager. She felt a catch in her throat when she saw the pitiful condition of the Surfer. His skin was duller, more tarnished than before. She could almost feel his pain. She moved closer to the door.

Just then, Captain Raye entered the intelligence center and punched in a code on the keypad near the door. It opened quickly, just as Mr. Sherman’s wheezy voice echoed throughout the room. “Let’s not do that again,” he said. Sue once again felt a chill at the malevolent tone of the strange man’s voice.

Captain Raye entered the cell. Sue snuck in quickly behind her, moving as quietly as she could. “Victor Von Doom needs to speak with you, General,” the captain said, her tone officious and matter of fact. General Hager nodded in her direction and then motioned Mr. Sherman to the door. They all left the room, leaving Sue alone with the damaged Surfer. She heard the doors lock, then the weakened, ethereal voice of the Surfer. “I know you are there.”

Sue materialized and rushed to his side. She bent down, instinctively wanting to comfort him. She touched his head softly. “The people of our world don’t condone this kind of treatment,” she said, images of Abu Ghraib suddenly flashing in her mind. The words sounded hollow, even to her. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No,” the Surfer replied. She could tell he was not being truthful but he raised his head from his chest and made eye contact with her. She thought she saw a look of recognition before his face returned to its calm, expressionless visage.

“What is your name?” Sue asked. “You must have a name. I’m Susan.” He looked confused, unsure of the meaning of her words. Being so close to him, even with him in such a beaten state, stirred within her powerful memories of their encounter in the Black Forest. Once again she fought the urge to protect him, to shelter him from the dire circumstances around them. His calm, gentle demeanor only enhanced those protective feelings. The Surfer had said he was not the destroyer, and she wanted desperately to believe him. Looking deep into his eyes, she doubted that such a creature could willingly perform such violent acts. She cleared her throat to speak. “You said you weren’t the one to destroy our world. Then who is?” she asked.

The Surfer’s expression changed then, as if a shadow had entered the room. “The one I serve,” he said quietly.

Susan felt her heart beating faster. “Who do you serve?” she asked urgently. She watched as his expression grew pained, a curtain falling over his entire face. He fell silent and his gaze drifted away from her, into the thin air. “I want to help you,” she pleaded, “but in order to do that, you have to tell me the truth. Please.” Sue searched his eyes for some acknowledgment of her request. She wanted to trust him. Everything in her was telling her to do so. But unless he confided in her, unless he explained himself, she knew there was nothing she could do. For him, or the group, or the planet.

The Surfer dropped his head back to his chest. Sue felt defeated; her words had had no effect. She wasn’t getting through to him, or he wasn’t allowing her to. But suddenly a spark grew from his chest. Sue took a step back, watching the light grow into a swirling mist of energy and light. She felt her face grow warm as she was once again bathed in the tremendous power of the Surfer. The small cone of swirling light stayed near his chest and then grew out from it, filling the space between the Surfer and the mesmerized Sue. The light danced as it formed a picture, a hologram to show the memory the Surfer was trying to convey.

The hologram showed a vortex of staggering size, made up of both energy and organic matter. Points of light flashed and reflected from it as the vortex churned its way through space, its obvious power seen in the pulsing, throbbing, angry clouds all around it. The hunger of the vortex was limitless; everything it touched was consumed. Asteroids shattered, stars disappeared, and entire plants were subsumed in an instant. The destroyer was unstoppable, ravenous, its fearsome power darker than the endless space that surrounded it.

The Surfer began to speak again, narrating the horrifying image in front of her. “It is known by many names. My people called it Gah Lak Tus, the Devourer of Worlds.”

The hologram projected the image of a planet just like Earth, with lush greens and blues, rotating proudly in a pocket of deep space. Its isolation came to a swift and brutal end as Gah Lak Tus moved into the space around it, the darkness collapsing in on itself as the destroyer consumed the energy of the stars in the planet’s orbit. Even though no sound can exist in space, Gah Lak Tus seemed to roar as it sped closer to the planet, its hunger growing, engulfing everything in its path. Suddenly the surface of the planet became evident, the atmosphere dispersing and parting like the Red Sea. Silver craters littered the landscape and could be seen scarring the planet’s surface, even from space. The craters started to glow and hum, shaking violently, putting off their destructive power in short flashes of light. Just then, huge elongated streams of volcanic molten rock gushed up from the craters to the swirling vortex, their fiery plumes of heated energy giving the vortex power and nourishment. The planet began to melt as it was consumed by the vortex, turning into nothing but stray matter and ash as it gave up its precious core to the swirling, voluminous, ravenous Gah Lak Tus.

Sue stared at the hologram, horrified. The vortex had consumed the planet they way a person might punch a straw into an orange to suck out the juice. No thought, no remorse, no mercy. Only hunger. “The craters,” she said. “They let it draw the thermal energy from the planet’s core.”

The Surfer acknowledged her words with a slight nod of his head. “It must feed on energy to survive. Both thermal and organic.”

Horror registered on Sue’s face. Her heart was racing. “Organic? You’re talking about plants? Animals? People?” She could barely get the last word out. The Surfer was showing her acts that were nothing short of interplanetary genocide. It was too overwhelming to process. All the compassion she felt for the beaten silver being dissipated in the face of such total annihilation. She turned her rage on him. “That’s monstrous. How could you willingly serve such a thing?” she yelled.

The Surfer flinched at the anger behind her words. His voice grew softer as he turned away. “Because I must.” He let his head fall back to his chest as the hologram disappeared in a swift swirl of light. The room once again fell silent and cold.

Sue struggled to maintain her composure. “Doesn’t it bother you at all? The worlds, the people you’ve helped destroy?”

The Surfer stayed silent while Sue waited for some kind of response, one that could possibly make any sense. His face remained expressionless but Sue thought she could feel some kind of struggle going on within him. But Sue needed more. More of an explanation. “Why did you try to protect me?” she asked.

The even, calm tone of her voice surprised the Surfer. Her anger was already dissolving — or she was concealing it. “You are much like someone I once knew. Someone dear to me,” he finally said.

The humanity of his remark made an impression on her. For all the horrors Sue had seen today, for all the violence the Surfer had displayed, his words were not deceptive. The Surfer did not seem to lie. “Then you can feel compassion,” she said. The Silver Surfer only looked up at her, his calm face a sharp contrast to the charged emotions running through Sue’s body. She wanted to shake him from his placid appearance, wanted him to understand, or at least admit to, the horrors he had witnessed. But he stayed silent, helpless.

Sue walked away from the Surfer and over to the porthole window. She couldn’t look at him. Not right now. The hopelessness of the situation weighed upon her as she struggled to find a way out of this. She had to get back to Reed and tell him what she had learned. But part of her wanted to keep this from him, to shield him from how they were all going to die. Outside, the endless white horizon stretched out before her.

“Could you stop the Destroyer from coming if you wanted to?” she asked over her shoulder, keeping her gaze on the miles of arctic land around them.

The Surfer answered her quickly, like a child who longed to be rewarded. “It is not I who draws the Destroyer here. It is the beacon.”

“What beacon?” she asked.

“The source of my power,” he said.

The board? she thought to herself. The earth is doomed to a fiery, apocalyptic demise because of a surfboard?

“Take joy in the last few hours you have left,” the Surfer added. “For it is nearly here.”

His final words filled the room. Sue’s reaction was calm, almost as if she was in a slight state of shock. Her expression was not unlike the one she had witnessed so often on the Silver Surfer’s face, a visage, perhaps, of defense in the face of such overwhelming destruction and violence. Her gaze searched the frozen tundra for explanations or reasons, but she found nothing. Only a useless wasteland, a repetition of cold, white ice, a stark contrast to the future that was about to arrive.

Outside the porthole, the miles and miles of arctic land seemed to stretch out forever, alone and shivering at the top of the world. Eventually the land and sheets of ice reached a horizon, a thin tissue of darkness sprinkled with silver stars, the beginning of outer space. The slim film of atmosphere made the heavens seem within reach, touchable, even at their great distance. At that moment the Earth did not seem so distant from its silent brothers, the planets circling within view: the cold, unblinking moon; the red star Mercury; the glowing rings of Saturn. Just behind that ethereal planet a series of flashes set off the expanse of deep space. The rings of Saturn began to bend and warp, before they were eventually pulled from the planet by a strong vortex. The Destroyer took them greedily, only wanting more.

In a matter of minutes, the planet known as Saturn was gone, a relic of history.

Gah Lak Tus continued on its path, heading toward Earth and its inevitable destruction.