GALACTIC

Part I: Feast of the Gods

By Hunter Lambright

Hanging in the dark blanket of space, the Silver Surfer observed the sleeping planet with vague curiosity. His metallic silver skin glistened, reflecting the light of faraway suns in an almost blinding gleam. Crouched upon his surfboard, the Surfer peered carefully, observing the world below.

From his position, the world below seemed beautiful, with its reds and browns mixing and melding amidst spots of yellow seas and orange forestry. Mountain peaks ranged from purple to green, while the clouds glittered with silver. It was almost like something out of one of those books he’d seen during his time on Earth. Dr. Seuss, thought the Surfer, the name springing to his mind like a long-forgotten classmate’s name. Random lines rambled through his mind. Mr. Brown can moo, can you? Was there a reason that human children found that amusing? If so, the Surfer had not encountered it during his time on Earth.

Radd turned his attention back to the beautiful orb in front of him, which he now knew to be called Proxia. As herald to Galactus, Norrin Radd had once scouted the planet below for his master to see if the beauty below was suitable enough to provide the world-devourer with sustenance. From ground level, however, the planet had been less-than-impressive, as the colors grew sickly through the oxygen-less haze that filled the atmosphere. The barbaric creatures on the planet released toxins into the air that made the planet inhospitable except to their kind. Worse still, the Surfer found that the Proxic race, alongside its toxic emission, was prone to constant warfare between clans.

Radd had returned back to his master without a good word. “The planet is toxic, my lord,” said the Surfer. “I believe its beauty merely masks the malevolence that might disturb or make inedible the meal you see before your eyes.” Galactus did not react. Rather, he turned his back on the planet, leaving Norrin to search the stars for another planet worth consumption.

So onward the duo had traveled, and Galactus had, in due course, ended up devouring a planet full of peaceful, intelligent species instead of the warlike, toxic planet. Now, in the same position in space as he had been those years ago, the Silver Surfer crossed his arms over his chest and gazed out at the planet intently, his feet planted firmly on his surfboard. As he stood there, the reflections of swiftly-approaching meteors gleamed off his shining body, heading directly for the poisonous world.

How was it that he, a mere man given far greater power than any other might imagine, held the fate of a planet in his hands once more? No, that wasn’t accurate. Rather, this time, the conclusion of the world would be at his own hands, not at another’s-which made the decision of whether or not it deserved to live on even harder. If he could do this, preventing the showering meteors, Norrin might save the world that he once intended on allowing to be devoured.

Then, the Surfer thought back to his own home planet of Zenn-La. Could it be that, in a few centuries, the warriors of this planet might expand, spreading their poison across the galaxy? They could destroy his world if he didn’t allow nature to take its course and end the lives of the barbarians below.

There it was, in front of him. The dilemma. Would his mission as a protector of the weak and helpless of the universe prevail-or his own selfishness? Who was he to decide whether a planet deserved to survive? And yet…he’d never had a problem making that decision as Herald to Galactus. It was a disturbing thought.

As the meteors jetted closer, the Surfer came to his decision. I cannot revoke their right to live. I help enforce the laws of the universe-but no longer am I judge and jury…nor do I serve the executioner…

Channeling the Power Cosmic unimaginatively through his hands, Radd fired off a burst of white energy that reduced the nearest meteor to mere fragments without any effort whatsoever. Weaving through the fragments, the Surfer had no trouble getting away from the same gravitational pull that drew the space rocks to the planet below.

While he vented his frustrations, the Surfer couldn’t help but turn his thoughts to Zenn-La, his home planet. In order to save the planet and his lover, Radd had offered himself as a Herald to Galactus. Since then, he had barely spent more than just fleeting hours there, with the knowledge that great responsibility was attached to his imbued power. No longer was he Norrin Radd, resident of Zenn-La. Nor was he the Silver Surfer, Herald of Galactus. He was his own man, the self-proclaimed Protector of the Cosmos-and, as his frustrations mounted further, realized that he was doing a rather terrible job at it.

Protecting the universe meant preserving life-no matter what might happen in the future in the manner of a “what if” scenario. The planet below hadn’t asked to be dangerous. The species below were born into it, genetically hardwired to thrive in toxicity. Yet, despite all of the beauty of creation, the Surfer himself had believed himself fit to judge their fate.

More than anything, that still disturbed him.

Hours later, white light, tinted blue at the edges, continued to destroy meteor after meteor. As rock shattered into dust, the space around the Surfer began to cloud. Rather than finding itself pulled deeper toward the burning atmosphere of the planet, the dust was less drawn to the planet due to the distribution of the meteors’ former mass. It would fall into the gravitational pull eventually, but this would take time considering the fact that the Surfer had driven its momentum to a complete halt.

Invisible to the Surfer through the haze, a peculiar creature watched from afar. It hopped from one oncoming meteor to another, its green, pupil-less eyes never tearing from the spot from where the Surfer operated. Its body was similar to that of a lizard with a humped back and a tortoise’s head. Its hind legs coiled impressively in an imitation of a frogs’ despite their resemblance to those of a Tyrannosaurus and its long arms were surprisingly reminiscent of a gorilla’s in both their length and build. The Panspermian was the last of his race, genetically engineered in the Negative Zone as a workhorse, handily equipped with the ability to produce duplicates at any blunt-force trauma.

Having seen enough, the creature hopped with unnatural speed from rock to rock until there were no more to leap from. Then he flew, spurred on by his own connection to the Power Cosmic. It took just moments for the reptilian creature to arrive at the feet of its master.

“Tell me, Preak,” said the female being with an air of total and complete power. “Relay your report.”

The woman had no semblance of clothing on. Rather, her towering body appeared to be enwrapped from head to toe in molten gold, with circles and lines tracing their way across her form, etched with blinding light. She had no hair, but rather, two long horns that curved out from each side of her jawbone.

Preak gazed up at the impressive being, bowing before he spoke. “Aegis, Lady of All Sorrows, know that Preak saw Surfer-creature at planet, he did!” Preak began excitedly. “He reeks of Galactus-taint, yes, and stopped rocks from killing Proxians. He’s very, very moody creature!”

Beside Aegis, her brother, Tenebrous of the Darkness Between, stirred. Unlike his sister, Tenebrous was coated in pitch-black and was much bulkier. His head was flat at the top and did not have a typical facial makeup. Instead, he had a large “eye” centered atop several vertical slits that resembled a mouth. His body was covered in the same white markings as Aegis’.

Tenebrous’ voice was a resounding boom that echoed throughout the fabric of space itself. “You say Galactus’ Surfer guards the planet?” he boomed.

“Yes, yes!” said Preak excitedly. Aegis stifled a yawn. Preak was not her Herald by choice, but had been most readily available upon her release. She was beginning to regret that fact, however.

Aegis turned to her brother as they stood impossibly still upon the nothingness of space. “It may be best to leave this planet to the Surfer and put off contact until our strength has grown. Our imprisonment was not so long ago…”

Tenebrous looked at his sister with an unreadable expression. “This planet is the closest nourishment, Aegis. We are drained. Be it with a fight or not, this is much-needed sustenance for our continued journey.”

“Yes, yes!” squealed Preak, performing a barrel roll in the null-gravity. “What say we do, Mistress Aegis of all Sorrows, madam?”

“Engage the Surfer,” Aegis ordered. “Keep him distracted long enough for us to arrive. Don’t let him realize that we have begun assimilating the planet until it is too late. Can you handle that?”

“Has Preak failed you yet, Mistress?” the lizard wheedled.

Aegis gave Preak a look that could have quite literally killed the annoying pest had he not been imbued with a portion of the Power Cosmic. “You fail to amuse me,” she said. “Go now, before we decide that you are worth more dead than as a Herald.”

Preak gulped. “Yes, Mistress! Yes! Preak goes!” With that, he spun around and zipped off toward Proxia once more.

The Silver Surfer peered through the dust, trying to catch sight of any stray meteors. Once he determined that no more rocky missiles were jetting his way, he gazed once more at the planet below. He felt a twinge of fear that he may have upset the natural order of the universe, but let it slide. He had done his job, consequences be damned.

Just as he prepared to leave the planet in peace, something caught the Surfer’s eye. A streak of red pulsed toward him, giving away the newcomer’s trajectory. Expecting the worst, he called on the Power Cosmic once more, allowing the energy to emanate from his hands.

The streak stopped suddenly in front of him, revealing a lean blue-skinned male in a dark blue and gold suit marked by a diamond in the center of his chest. “Wait, don’t shoot!” cried the boy, holding up his hands. His eyes were wide inside the helmet. “I’m a member of the Nova Corps! I’m on your side!”

The Surfer relaxed, somewhat amused by the boy’s enthusiasm. “Corpsman?” he asked skeptically. “I recall that Corpsmen are symbolized by a golden ‘swoosh’ across the chest. I’ve never seen a designation like yours.”

“I’m, well…okay, sorry. Corpsman probably exaggerates my position,” he said rather embarrassedly. “I’m, uh, a messenger boy.”

The Surfer did not embarrass the boy further by laughing. That wasn’t exactly something he did, anyway. “Your name, then, Messenger?”

“San-Ol, thirteenth sector of the Pama System, sir!” said the messenger, snapping back to attention once more. His sector and system positively identified him as a Kree. The Surfer had to give the boy credit; he was playing it by the book so far.

“I see. Tell me, Messenger San-Ol, what is of so much importance that Xandar sees fit to contact me?” The Surfer had been on both sides of the law in his career as a wielder of the Power Cosmic, but one thing remained consistent on both sides-Xandar seemed more often a hindrance than a help to him.

San-Ol crossed his arms over his chest. “Xandar wishes for you to know, Silver Surfer, that an old threat directly related to your past exploits has resurfaced. You are currently being tracked by Gal-Surfer, behind you!” The messenger boy interrupted his own rehearsed message to warn the Surfer about the immediate threat.

“Come, Silvery Surfer!” exclaimed Preak’s high-pitched voice. “I show how a real Herald fights!”

The Silver Surfer reacted quickly, blasting Preak with a flash of white energy. “Tell Galactus that he chose the wrong man to fight!” he exclaimed. As the dust cleared, however, the Surfer saw that the blast had only caused Preak to multiply in number. There were now seven of him where one once stood-and all were powered by the Power Cosmic.

“Get out of here!” the Surfer ordered San-Ol. He rocked back and forth steadily, waiting for one of the Preaks to move.

The seven Heralds hovered upward and downward in space itself. “Galactus?” they said as one. “Galactus is not master. Mistress Aegis is master.”

The Surfer paused. “Who is Aegis?” he asked, but was pummeled backward as three of the duplicates launched themselves at him. They clawed at his metallic skin and found they made little progress in that method of attack.

“I’ve got your back, Surfer!” shouted San-Ol, deliberately disobeying the Silver Surfer’s order. He fired off pulse-blasts from his wrists that knocked the three Preaks from the Surfer’s body but caused each one to double, leaving a total of ten of the aliens in their midst. “Well, that didn’t work,” said San-Ol, pointing out the obvious.

“Direct assault will not work on this creature,” the Silver Surfer said. “We must contain it, Messenger. Follow my lead.” He then turned his back on Preak and shot off in a circle around the ten creatures. San-Ol followed, his back end appearing as if it were instead a rocket, blasting fiery energy to propel him forward.

The Surfer glided faster and faster around Preak. The ten duplicates shot beams of white light, but he changed his elevation often so that most missed and the worst shots were merely glancing blows. San-Ol, on the other hand, pealed out of the rotation after the first few rounds, realizing that he made a much easier and more convenient target for the Heralds.

As the revelations grew faster and faster, tighter and tighter, the dust from the shattered meteors grew in density, packed closer together than before thanks to the movement of the Surfer. He corralled the particles into a smaller group, clouding Preak’s eyes and forcing the reptilian aliens together into one large group.

“What now, Surfer?” asked San-Ol, rejoining the Surfer. The boy’s face bore both a mix of fear and admiration.

“We’ll see if this works,” said the Surfer, holding out his hands. White-hot energy began to surround them, the white-hot globes growing in size as the amassed energy grew exponentially. He pointed them at the dazed, clustered duplicates and, when he was certain they were directly in his imaginary crosshairs, let it go.

The flash of light released in the process blinded both the Surfer and San-Ol for several long moments. When their vision returned, however, San-Ol gasped.

Where once there were ten Heralds, now there were no fewer than one hundred duplicates of Preak. “Yes,” the Silver Surfer said. “This does present a big of a problem.”

“No,” said San-Ol, pointing back toward Proxia. “Look at that.”

Planted on each pole of the small planet were now two enormous creatures, shaped in roughly the same mold as man. One gold, one black, they glowed with the same white energy that powered the Surfer, Preak, and Galactus himself. “They’re eating that planet!” San-Ol exclaimed, recognizing the tell-tale signs from the Study of Galactus class on Xandar.

“Go! Warn the people that if they can flee, they must!” the Silver Surfer ordered. “And don’t be fooled by the planet’s appearance-maintain the oxygen apparatus while you’re on it.” San-Ol heeded his warning and took off for Proxia.

As he left, the Surfer turned back to the still-hovering Preaks. “The Silvery Surfer likes this planet, hm?” they said as one, an eerie sound in the depths of space. “Master and Mistress will eat, eat, eat and planet will be no more! Preak likes that, yes!”

“We will see,” said the Silver Surfer, propelling himself directly into the belly of the beasts…

“Your planet is about to be devoured by two Galactus-like creatures! If you can escape this planet, do so now!” The message emanated from San-Ol’s helmet in virtually every language known to the Nova Corps. He could only hope that one of them was the one spoken by the Proxians.

The toxic creatures took his word for it, thanks to the fact that it was backed by the sudden appearance of the two shining humanoids, bent on sucking the life out of their world. They scrambled and warned their neighbors, with what San-Ol could only assume were the females clutching children and the so-called males taking charge. It was, albeit, stereotypical, but he was otherwise uninformed of the nature of the Proxic culture. I’ll make it a point to ask the Instructor for a special class when we get back to Xandar, thought San-Ol. His gaze shifted toward the towering form of Tenebrous. If we get back to Xandar…

The trees began to shrivel and the grass itself seemed to be sucked into the ground. People on the ground began to fall to their knees, their contact with the earth allowing their life forces to be drained by the feasting monstrosities.

San-Ol left the world behind with a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew it was impossible to save them all, but the thought lingered in his mind nonetheless. Perhaps the Surfer would have advice for him on the matter-as soon as they came out of this alive, that is.

The Surfer’s mad fury caused dozens of Preaks to be birthed, each one an exact duplicate of the one before it. He evaded the others’ blasts, a task that became more and more impossible as his actions created legions of the Herald.

“Silvery Surfer, there is no limit to me,” Preak warned with a chorus of rolling laughter. “Me, me, me, and the rest of me’s mined worlds on our lonesome!”

The paradox was lost on the Silver Surfer, desperately searching for the multiplying alien’s weakness. As far as he could tell-or at least within the scope of his powers-Preak was simply unbeatable while enhanced by the Power Cosmic.

A sudden explosion caused a shockwave the rocked the Surfer and the Preak army. Red-hot pieces of Proxia’s core flew outward from the center of the explosion, ringed by blackened pieces of the planet’s outer shell. “No!” shouted the Silver Surfer, weaving in and out of the planet’s puzzle pieces.

San-Ol blasted pieces of the planet away with the beams from his wrist. “I made it, but I don’t know if any of the Proxians did,” he said grimly. “What about-oh.” His gaze fell upon the multitude of grinning, triumphant faces. “No luck?”

“Obviously,” the Surfer said, gritting his teeth. He could see the golden gleam and blackened sheen of the retreating world devourers.

“We win! We win!” exclaimed Preak, his bodies jumping up and down as one. They soon merged with each other, forging a single body the size of the original Herald. “No more need to distract the Silvery Surfer!” he exclaimed gleefully.

The Surfer looked upon Preak unflinchingly, his arms crossed over his chest. San-Ol raised an eyebrow, surveying the scene with an approving look, marked by a single raised eyebrow.

“Bye-bye!” Preak said in his nasal voice, turning around. He started to zip off in his mistress’ path, only to find that he was no longer moving. “What?”

“My master would like a word,” said a voice layered like musical notes from a symphony. Galactus’ Herald, Stardust, surrounded Preak with his amorphous form. His appearance seemed to be a cross with a jellyfish and a seahorse, complete with humanoid arms and legs. As Preak attempted to blast his way out, Stardust sighed. “I possess the same power, and it is a power that tends not to harm itself, as our friend the Surfer found out.”

“You may let him go, Stardust,” said a booming voice new to the scene. The enormous form of Galactus loomed over Stardust and his captive while the Silver Surfer and San-Ol watched. This was San-Ol’s first encounter with Galactus, and he was tempted to turn tail and run.

Preak stood immobile on Galactus’ extended palm, frozen into place by the more powerful being’s intimate relation with the Power Cosmic. “You are fueled by my source, yet you are not mine,” said Galactus. “How did that come to be?”

Though a complete imbecile, Preak knew when he had lost. “It was Aegis, Lady of All Sorrows, Galactus, master! She and Brother Tenebrous freed, yes, and powered Preak as Herald of all to come!” he sang.

This news disturbed the Surfer. Galactus had never spoken of a sister or brother in all his time as a Herald. “Does he speak the truth?” he asked, just as Stardust did the same. There was a certain enmity between the two, in that the Surfer hated everything Stardust now stood for, and Stardust hated the Surfer because he was undeniably Galactus’ favorite.

Galactus considered for a moment. “Where were they imprisoned?” he asked, knowing that if Preak answered correctly, his word would be good.

“Beyond the Kyln, beyond the Crunch! Beyond the world of worlds!” Preak exclaimed. “They escaped, they found a way in from before! From the birth of the universe!”

Galactus considered. “He is not lying,” he said to his Heralds, both current and former. He turned back to Preak. “How many escaped?” he asked, his face more serious than ever.

“Just Aegis and Tenebrous, Master Galactus, sir, please!” Preak said, his eyes wide and pleading. “Please, no kill Preak! Preak did what Preak was told, and only that!”

“You have been useful,” Galactus said, looking the reptilian beast over. “You have been spared by Galactus.”

“Oh, thanks you, thanks you!” Preak exclaimed. “Thanks you, Master Galactus!”

Galactus eyed a primitive spacecraft, limping away from the epicenter of the destroyed planet. “Your judgment is not mine, however. You committed no offense to me. Instead, judgment belongs to what Proxians are left.”

The Silver Surfer eyed the craft in astonishment. The Proxians had been close to space travel, and he’d never realized it! The very thought both amazed and frightened him. He was ashamed at the relief he felt from the revelation.

Preak suddenly glowed white-hot before dimming completely. “There, the stolen Power Cosmic has been drained from you, false Herald. It is only I keeping you alive in space right now. Do not thank me, however,” Galactus said, lowering his eye to the ship. “This creature aided in your planet’s destruction. I leave his judgment to you.”

Stardust traveled to an airlock on the side as it opened up tentatively. “They appear ready to trust you, Galactus. They are a naïve race, indeed.”

Galactus did not respond to Stardust’s comment. Instead, he lowered the cowering Preak to Stardust who stuffed the whimpering reptilian alien into the airlock. The airlock snapped shut and the ship began to instantly creep away.

The Silver Surfer waited until it was far enough away before asking the question at the forefront of the group’s collective mind. “You have siblings, Galactus?”

“We were once many,” Galactus said hesitantly. “I once believed only I survived the Great Rebirth, the explosion of life, the creation of your universe. Even with my survival, I lay catatonic. I believed no one else had survived the Rebirth.”

“What of these siblings, Galactus?” asked Stardust, rising to his master’s shoulder. “What are their dangers?”

“They possess all my abilities,” said Galactus. “Their only difference is their profound hatred for me and their ability to process even vile and poisonous planets. They will stop at nothing to see me dead.”

“Goodie,” muttered San-Ol. He instantly regretted this, realizing that he’d been beneath Galactus’ notice until he put himself there. “Sorry.”

“What does the Corps know of my whereabouts?” asked Galactus, drawing close to San-Ol. The Silver Surfer put himself between Galactus and the messenger boy.

“The boy was sent to deliver a message,” the Surfer said. “He is no spy, means you no harm, and is of no consequence to you.” He looked back in the direction Aegis and Tenebrous had taken in their escape from Proxia’s destruction. “The more important question is what their next target is.”

“They will likely target any place that is likely to lend me aid,” Galactus stated simply. “Their quarrel is with me and mine, and so their hatred extends to you, my Heralds. With their arrival upon this plane, they may also be tracking who else might interfere in their affairs.”

“Tracking?” asked San-Ol. “You mean, like, following signals and stuff?”

“That is one of our methods, yes,” Galactus said. He eyed San-Ol as if he was a mosquito-if he treaded in the wrong place, he was liable to be splattered.

“Then, well, that explains something,” San-Ol said. He pointed at his helmet. “I’ve been trying to file the report of Proxia’s destruction with Xandar for the past ten minutes, but the signal’s blocked. Can your brother and sister do that, too?”

“It is within their range of abilities within the Power Cosmic,” Galactus said. “Why is this of consequence to the halt of my siblings’ plans?”

“Because I just got a new message, an all-points bulletin,” said San-Ol. “It said Xandar is under attack by unknown forces, two creatures, and is under immediate threat of destruction.” The Surfer’s eyes widened, but Stardust and Galactus seemed not to understand.

San-Ol was more urgent now. “Aegis and Tenebrous are trying to eat Xandar!”

NEXT ISSUE: The Silver Surfer, Galactus, Stardust, and San-Ol race to Xandar to prevent the universal police force from being destroyed at Aegis and Tenebrous’ hands! Will they succeed, or will the universe lose its key to peace? Find out in part two of Galactic!