Regem Maris, Alpha Centauri

Arka, emperor of the Mari, knew no bounds with his hospitality. As he had suggested in the freshness of the shoreline, a feast had been rapidly prepared and brought to them in the large chambers of the aquatic citadel. It was every bit as imaginative as it was splendid; the vast room was lit from above by the gilded gold chandeliers of antiquity. It was all more beautiful than Brightstorm was accustomed to but he was also suspect of the man’s intentions. In any reality or culture, the golden haired emperor would be worshipped and appreciated based on his appearance alone. Brightstorm gave a gelatinous bow as his dark blue forearms crossed his expanding chest.

Beta Ray Bill and Rocket Raccoon copied him in his actions, it was the best they could do. None were as experienced as Brightstorm when it came to diplomacy but they offered little resistance to the sway and glory of the maritime emperor. He was truly a suave individual, his charm and charisma had gripped many in the past but Brightstorm knew that he was just one of the six rulers of Alpha Centauri. Arka had taken his throne by force, it was not rightfully his to own. Still, Brightstorm was not present to accuse but to seek the unification of the six kingdoms, or at least a treaty of peace between them.

He could only hope that some of his colleagues on the Luminals could remember that. Besides the eloquent Faze and the authoritarian Cynosure, the Luminals was comprised of men and women where more than ready for war. Brightstorm was from a different generation. He had come from a religious colony who believed in the coming of the Saviour and the Godkiller, the final battle that would bring all to their rightful glory in the Great Beyond. Brightstorm’s prayers had been left on his planet but his mind was always on the future, no matter how short term that future should be. As an original recruit to the Luminals, he saw his place as a father to all of those who had come behind him and that explained his concerns.

Something unnatural had gripped the nations of Alpha Centauri.

“I welcome you to my humble home, great sirs. It is always a pleasure to be surrounded by the guardians of our fair solar system. I can only hope that you have many more years in doing so,” his smile was wide and jeering as he raised his chalice of honeyed wine. “A toast, to the Luminals and their accompanied brethren!”

Messily, Rocket Raccoon down the wine with a fervour that was distasteful in the home of a lord. Brightstorm had observed the small creature, decidedly commenting on his lowly commonness of behaviour. He belonged in Starlin’s, were the beer flowed happily and without fail – he did not belong to one of the finest orders of the solar system as Arka had correctly informed them. Beta Ray Bill skewered his nose but drank the wine slowly, he was a keen sense of character and he had picked up on the hesitance of the Luminal.

Brightstorm gave another bow, not having drunk his wine. “I thank you, lord. On behalf of both the Luminals and their temporary brethren in the matters of Alpha Centauri. We have come to see that the planet is in the fine hands of great men – if not a little fractured.”

“The actions of men are not always easily explained, sir. We have a traitor on the throne in the capital city, a ruler in exile and we ourselves have chosen to remain an independent state.” Arka flounced into his golden throne.

Brightstorm leaned forward. “Perhaps that is so. Your lord brother has not yet claimed Regem Maris to be his own? I think that leaves you with the opportunity to absolve the issues presented now, and to make amends and unite this planet. War threatens to destroy all that you have loved.”

“My lord brother has you have called him, will never claim Regem Maris. I do not recognise his rule any more than he recognises the rule of the Usurper.”

Rocket spluttered loudly as he dropped his chalice. His small rounded face was swollen and looked to be more pained than any man or creature that Brightstorm had ever seen. His eyes narrowed, Bill’s arms wrapped around their colleague and hauled him into the air – attempting to clear his throat but Brightstorm looked at the silver flecked through the honeyed wine as he turned his attention back to the maritime emperor. His face was as serious as it had been momentarily; he had learned to hide his emotions from public display.

“I was once told that poison was the weapon of a woman, my lord.”

Arka scowled darkly. “I have no intention to lose what I have built. Even if I must kill you and all of your brethren. Regem Maris will claim the throneworld.”

Brightstorm flexed his elongated fingers; energy propelled from them as he struck the emperor directly in the chest and forced the golden throne to buckle beneath the pressure. He must be quick to act, or Rocket Raccoon would never survive the experience.

THE TIDE THAT LEFT AND NEVER CAME BACK

Part III: Betrayal

By Gavin McMahon

Rex Caeli, Alpha Centauri

Major Victory clutched onto his shield cautiously as they moved through the shrubbery that surrounded what they had identified as the throneworld. It was an ancestral castle, medieval in design, but was completely extinct from the memories he bore of the planet. It was not the Alpha Centauri that he had made his home in the futures to come. He was certain that his memories had presented a stable society, mutually respectful of the other. Public executions were barbaric and the death penalty was long ago disabled from active use. His heart race heavily in his chest as he remembered the Alpha Centauri princess, her body hanging lifeless and headless before the hands of her own father.

Cynosure stalked ahead of him, his movements were quick and impulsive with an almost predatory canine feel to them. He had been asked to entitle his life to a man whom he had no information about and who he was cautious to trust, Gorani was playing games with them but he wanted the Guardians to survive the experience. The Luminals were a force to be reckoned with, but despite their rocky start, the Guardians of the Galaxy had learnt to work together and get the job done. It was an idiotic scheme to separate them when they worked best together. He knew there would be casualties of the game but he hoped none were of his side.

Cynosure motioned him to follow, bursting through the green vines and into the openness of the drawbridge. It was guarded by only two men – unusual given the paranoia experienced by the King of Rex Caeli on the platform. However, Major Victory assumed the King was still returning from the city, some twelve miles north of the castle. They had left him giving a speech of allegiance to his thankful crowds; they seemed to have drawn the wealth of the six kingdoms. Major Victory had had enough of foolish games, as Cynosure drew his sword; he threw both the men aside with his psychokinetic powers as they crashed into the walls and then the small river – bloodying it as they fell.

He ignored the growling of Cynosure and vaulted forward, bursting into what appeared to be the market place of the court. The throneworld had its own self sufficient economy and produce, Dynas was not as foolish or forgetful as he had appeared. He had prepared himself for a war that he had known would come, sooner or later. Still, Major Victory doubted he would accept the help of outside forces in doing so. He would rather die by the sword than relinquish his hold of the throneworld. Isn’t that how most of those stories ended?

Cynosure snarled. “We are not here to view the sights, traveller. I suggest we finish the job that we started. Any information of use will be in the throne room of this decrepit building.” He stalked ahead, swaying his long sword as it crackled with a blue energy reminiscent of Rocket’s.

Major Victory followed.

Tapestries, old and worn, lined the endless walls of the castle. Cynosure walked by them without taking notice but Vance had always loved art, his dreams of being an artist in childhood were freshly remembered. He had Faze to thank for his memories, but the Luminals as a whole were now a nuisance. His life depended on their success as an extensive group but only the Luminals or the Guardians could survive the cull that Gorani had planned for them. Major Victory still didn’t understand the gelatinous alien’s role in the Luminals mission statement.

Cynosure peeked into a room briefly before disappearing from sight. Major Victory shifted the heavy shield, with the American emblem, and pursued him. He was not a child who played follow the leader but this seems to have been a case on Gorani’s mind for an extended period of time – Major Victory had to trust that Cynosure had been privy to some of that extra information. His thoughts fell to Mantis, Persephone, Rocket and Bug as they now relied on strangers. He assumed Bill and Drax had been in enough scrapes like this beforehand – although Drax’s memory remained a constant worry.

“Definitely not the Alpha Centauri that I remember,” said Major Victory in awe as he took in the rustic style of what now surrounded him. It was garish and exquisite, and nothing the room could be described as understated. This was particularly true for the golden throne, emblazoned with cherubs and shrubbery. Dynas was the king who desired what he had no claim to and he overcompensated for it. Alpha Centauri must have poured all of its wealth into this one resource. He struggled to think what the other rooms would be like.

Cynosure didn’t turn to face him. Instead, he examined a spear on the wall. Allegedly it was the weapon that had won the war for the throne. “I wish you wouldn’t speak.”

Major Victory was blown away by his pleasance as the doors shut behind them. Slowly, both of the heroic men turned to face King Dynas and his entire house guard. Major Victory reprimanded himself for not realising things had been too easy until that point. Cynosure’s hands slipped down to grope at the sheathed long sword. Both were prepared at least, it was a start.

“Ladies and lords of the Court, it appears we have visitors. Very well, seize them.”

Swords echoed.

Terra Reginae, Alpha Centauri

Sarfaya of the Marita watched them with the same darkened gaze she had proudly bore upon their capture. Her legs were spread wide; she sat with the arrogance of a man and the attitude of a brute. Bug could think of a thousand jokes that he would tell about her but it didn’t seem like the appropriate time for any of that. Sarfaya’s hair had been cut off at one side to reveal several lines of scars. Bug noticed them on several of the other women and realised they must have been symbolic.

Her mouth formed a crooked smile. “I know. We should have a Game. It has been so long since we’ve had a Game.”

Murmurs of excitement formed around the throne room. Bug had no idea what this ‘Game’ would entail but he was positive it wouldn’t be great for his well-being. Crater knelt beside him, both of whom were before the throne, in silence. He had come around but his childlike brain was still struggling to understand why Bug had attacked him. Faze had promised he could trust him, but Bug couldn’t worry about that particular betrayal. Major Victory had already told him and the others what was at stake.

“Yes. It will be a Game.”

The Marita stepped back and cleared what appeared to be an arena, it was small and cramped but that was the intention. Bug noticed the glee spread across their faces and his heart beat quickly. He knew what was going on here – his games on the outside of their home had been for nothing, and they had decided that a duel would occur for their amusement. He had known they were malicious and sinister by the corpses that hung in their hallways – frozen in the last moments of their lives. Bug couldn’t end up like that, he had too much to give, and his dreams had just started to become realised.

If it was necessary, he would kill the green behemoth to survive. Bug knew that did he have the wit to understand what was going on Crater would have been thinking the same thing and that made him feel better. He would do what it took to survive.

Sarfaya stood. “It will be a fight to the death. Victor can leave.”

Crater’s eyes fell on the woman. Bug realised he had understood her perfectly, that made things a bit harder because he had been counting on the element of surprise that had given him the upper hand before. Sarfaya didn’t even have to give the orders, the women around them were quick to unchain to the two hostages and force them onto their feet. Even in their home they seemed defensive, spears and long swords were taut and trained on the men should they make one false move. Bug was watching the women of the Marita when he should have been watching his newfound opponent – he realised his error as a heavy fist pummelled into his face.

Bug bounced back, ignoring the pain that would have been the swelling of his nose – which he was thankful he didn’t have. Crater flew in a second time with a balled fist, he was the heavy hitter but Bug’s agility was his greatest asset – especially when he had been disarmed beforehand. Bouncing his insectoid legs, Bug moved into the air and crashed his flattened feet into the Luminal’s closely gathered facial features.

Even as Bug fell backwards, he was overwhelmed by the speed of Crater’s movements. Both of the behemoth’s hands crashed around his head, and the helmet he wore quickly shattered and the crunching noise exploded around the room as Bug hovered lifelessly in the man’s grasp. Red blood poured through the spaces in Crater’s fingers before he suddenly dropped Bug to the ground – were the insectoid alien crumpled like paper. His limbs wildly askew as Crater backed away.

It was a short victory before he felt himself begin to bleed and realised the Marita had had their enjoyment and had no reason to keep their word. Both of the spears had pierced his body – which was surprisingly similar to a leathery flesh – with ease and forced him onto his knees. Sarfaya crashed the third spear through the back of his head, and into the still chest of his former companion, Bug. He was connected with his victim, just another sight to be seen in the horrific halls of the Marita.

“Marita, it is time for war. It is our time!”

Viri Pacifici, Alpha Centauri

“Who else would like to challenge me?”

His voice was calm, which partly added to the intimidation that now shivered through the peaceful resistance movement that now stood ahead of him. He had killed the woman who led them and the Luminal who had been so weary of him. Drax the Destroyer was no stranger to murderous rages but he understood better than most the need for destiny to follow its own pathway. His former teammates – who he would reluctantly fight aside until he no longer had a use for them – would be willing to play the hero and fight against the Luminals for a place on Gorani’s experiment. Drax was willing to play dirty to secure that place, his memories had been taken from him by someone and he needed to be at the forefront of the galaxy’s affairs if he ever wished to understand why.

No-one opposed him. In the darkness of the mountains, their home shone like an angelic beacon and he realised that they were truly as helpless and childlike as the angels of stories and lullabies that now sounded in his head. Odana hadn’t just led them. She had guided and protected them like a mother would protect her young. Drax couldn’t have hoped for a better situation to be in. It was necessary that these people found themselves in this war, because he needed this game to end as quickly as possible.

Drax understood the perceived villainy of his actions. However, he considered himself to be more of a pragmatist. He only cared about his personal success, and he didn’t how he achieved it. He was a psychologist’s wet dream, but he was long forgotten to the customs of Earth. It was a world away from where he now stood, at the helm of an unknowing army. He had had an entire life as Arthur Sampson Douglas that was now forgotten to him. It was these lost memories that now drove Drax. He needed answers that were denied to him.

Drax looked over the crowd. “I am the leader of the Pacem, and I will lead you to your destinies. You are not the cowards of yesterday but the soldiers of tomorrow, and you will follow me or you will die.”

Yet again he heard no objections.

“It is tomorrow, and your destiny is here.”

Para Bellum, Alpha Centauri

Mantis was surprised by what she witnessed. It was a smaller, nomadic crowd that stood in the rocky clearing before her and Impact and Discharge were unconscious at the feet of a woman – who appeared like the Greeks of Earth in her general appearance. Her body gave of the same lilac hue of light as the others but her complexion was olive-toned and her face framed by long dark hair. Mantis sensed the tranquillity that danced around the nomads but her own psychic abilities allowed her to escape the sleep-inducing melody that had so readily consumed Impact and Discharge.

Her hair bristled across the purple fabric that clung to her shoulders as she moved forward. “Who are you? This one is Mantis of the Guardians of the Galaxy, and she wants to help rectify the world that you inhabit.”

“We are the Opulentia, Mantis.”

Mantis silently wondered if the woman could possibly have been any more vague than she had been but she supposed it was as good an answer as any. Her eyes once again fell across the slumbering bodies of Impact and Discharge, they have been told to attack by Suspensor. Mantis was certain that they had been told to kill her but she would never have fallen in battle to two such thugs – she was the celestial madonna – but she hoped that her other colleagues were still alive. Major Victory had been dispatched with Cynosure, but she was certain that the leader of the Luminals wasn’t involved by what Impact had said. Persephone was investigating with Suspensor, Mantis pitied the Luminal in that situation. If she could overcome the Grecian sorceress, she definitely deserved her place on the Luminals – not that Mantis or the Guardians had wanted it.

Opulentia moved to surround her as she had been caught in story, and the green hued heroine looked around. She still didn’t feel frightened because she sensed that they were harmless. It was almost as if they were the eye of the storm. War had segregated Alpha Centauri but a collision followed on their tails that would see the very destruction the Guardians and Luminals needed to prevent occur. Mantis moved closer towards the woman but stopped as she inhaled the sweet fragrance that was being released into the air.

Impact and Discharge weren’t unconscious. It was almost as if they had been crippled by the euphoria the Opulentia pulsed through the air.

“What is going on? How are you doing that to them?” Mantis wasn’t concerned for the men who had attempted to kill her – but she was concerned about the power presented in the woman, because the Opulentia all seemed to be powerful psychics which meant she was more powerful than the others.

“I am Ismene. I have been called an architect of realities yet to come, and I have just revealed the glories that could lie ahead to your comrades,” replied the woman as if she had just revealed the weather.

Mantis said. “And what reality would that be?”

“It’s the reality in which you never arrived on Alpha Centauri. It’s certainly no longer in existence,” Ismene of the Opulentia spoke slowly, her every word danced through the air. “You and your colleagues were never destined to come here. Not all of you will leave. Blood has already been spilled to the East.”

Mantis paused, her head looking towards the East. Panic overcame her as she wondered who had been murdered, and who would be next.

Vero Regi, Alpha Centauri

“What do you mean by that?” Suspensor’s tone seemed more like an accusation than a question but Asdís didn’t seem to be bothered at all as she continued to draw lines in the dusty floor of their cells. “Lygg plans to go to war. That is no different from any of the other rulers.” Persephone was not so dismissive.

Her emerald eyes flashed as she looked onto the battered face of the Alpha Centaurian woman, she was a queen who had been destroyed because of another man’s will. Persephone could relate to her in ways that the brutish Suspensor could not. Her very words had seemed to be laced with more than speculation, she had knowledge of Lygg’s plans and Persephone could see no fault in knowing the man’s role in the future destruction of Alpha Centauri.

Asdís gave a haughty laugh. “I do not mean the war of men. Your efforts to save this world are futile.”

“Why are they futile? We have resources beyond this mediocre planet…” Persephone reprimanded herself under the glare of Asdís. “We have resources that can help you and your kind. Our teammates are out in this planet’s leading kingdoms as we speak.”

Asdís sighed. “You and your teammates should leave as soon as you can. By the end of this day, Alpha Centauri will crumble. My husband will not allow his world to be taken from him and it has driven him into madness. He plans to unleash the Leviathan. It will destroy the planet and its core and everyone who inhabits it.”

Persephone’s golden curls fell from her shoulders as she turned to look as the equally concerned Suspensor, who had bolted into a standing position. Both were incredulous at the calm demeanour that she informed them of the planet’s impending destruction. It was the event they had been sent to prevent. It made sense now as war could only harm the people of the planet, but a creature of monstrous proportions – as they imagined the Leviathan to be – could certainly destroy the entire planet. Persephone had witnessed one culture die under her care already; she wouldn’t stand idly by again.

Her tone was hasty. “Where is the Leviathan?”

“Where else would you keep the end of the world?” Her madness was clear in her laughter. She had become as deranged as the king. “It’s beneath the city.”

Suspensor breathed heavily. “The time for subtlety is gone.” Her hands exploded energy that threw the entire back wall across the street to the echo of screaming civilians in the shantytown. “Grab her and let’s go.”

“Could you not have done that before?”

Suspensor groaned, dragging Asdís to her feet and into the open crowds. “I didn’t want the entire House Guard on our tails when she chose to act but we don’t have a choice. Time is creeping up on us.”

Persephone moved into the fading sunlight, her eyes met the guards that now charged down the street towards them. Emerald energy expanded around her fingertips and the Goddess took over from Suspensor’s lead. It was true, the time for subtlety was dead or else everyone on the planet would die.