-
- SILVER SURFER
-
- GALACTUS
-
- STARDUST
-
- SAN-OL
-
- AEGIS
-
- TENEBROUS
GALACTIC
Part II: Breaking Law
By Hunter Lambright
Streaking across the endless ocean of space, the Silver Surfer found himself locked in conflict with his actions. Somehow, by a bizarre turn of events, he was now aiding Galactus, his former master, in an effort to repel an attack made by his siblings, Aegis and Tenebrous, against the headquarters of the universal peacekeeping force known as the Nova Corps on Xandar. It was a brilliant move for the newly-awakened fiends, and one that did need to be fought off, but the thought of being on the same side as Galactus once more turned the Silver Surfer’s stomach.
At the Surfer’s side raced Galactus’ current herald, Stardust, pacing him as they struggled to reach Xandar before the set of interlocking planetoids was destroyed by the pair of world-devourers. The Surfer saw a type of chemistry between Galactus and this herald that he hadn’t seen since he had been the one under Galactus’ thrall. He could tell that the pair actually cared for each other, as disgusting as the thought was.
Galactus himself was not far behind the pair of heralds, his face emotionless. What might be going through his head? He hadn’t seen these beings since before the birth of the universe—surely there was a renewed feeling of loss somewhere inside that heartless being? It brought up the question of whether Galactus truly had feelings in the conventional sense of the word. The Surfer had never thought to ask.
These thoughts were soon wiped from the forefront of the Silver Surfer’s mind, however, as Xandar came into view. The normally serene group of chunks of broken planet now rumbled and shuddered under the force of bomb blasts and force beams. Aegis stood at the furthest end of Xandar, her golden body glowing each time it released another burst of energy. Tenebrous stood closer in the Surfer and Stardust’s paths. The brutish devourer put his bulk to work over using the Power Cosmic to do his dirty work. The screaming denizens of Xandar fled the tread of his mighty feet.
There was a sickening crunch as the outermost tip of Xandar broke away from the rest of the collage. The chunk of earth could sustain its own atmosphere, but not for much longer unless someone took care of the threat. With a steely resolve, the Silver Surfer realized that “someone” was them.
The Battle for Xandar had begun.
Dotted across the threatened landscape, Nova Corps Centurions were doing what they could against the might of the two beings that had just decided their headquarters—their homes—would make a nice appetizer on their way to a full course meal around the galaxy. Their methods were strange. If their primary target was Galactus, then why hadn’t they taken him out when they’d been so near at Proxia? The Surfer began piecing some of the facts together.
He knew that the planet of Proxia was a meager source of nutrition for Galactus, especially with its high toxicity levels. Still, the siblings had shared the planet between themselves before traveling to Xandar, thereby halving the already meager amount of sustenance. Taking out the police force before moving onto their next target was a smart move, but not if they were as weakened as the Surfer believed they might be. Why else would they spend all this time running in circles when their true target was actuallyfollowing them? That was, of course, all based upon the assumption that Galactus was the one in the crosshairs in the first place.
The Surfer was shaken from his thoughts by the voice of the messenger boy, San-Ol. “Surfer—something’s wrong. Why is there opposition throughout Xandar if there are only two focal points? Where are the troops coming from?”
“I do not know,” said the Surfer slowly, his eyes poring across the field of battle, “but I will find out.” He then streaked away from the scene in a blinding display of speed. San-Ol rocked backward in the Surfer’s wake.
He buzzed the surface several times, suddenly intrigued by the scene he saw before him. There were no deployed ground troops. Rather, the Novas were locked in combat against each other. Centurion fought centurion in an awkward civil war where neither side knew they were against each other until something…something had changed.
The Silver Surfer was back at San-Ol’s side before the teen had righted himself. “The Corpsmen fight themselves,” he stated. “Something has caused brother to take arms up against brother.”
San-Ol looked back at the Surfer gravely. “I can’t access what it is from the tech-net. All I get is static…and screaming. Something’s affecting them from inside, but das’t it all if I know what.”
The Surfer quickly relayed this message to Galactus and Stardust. The world-devourer’s face was stoic; nothing was given away. “We must stop my siblings, no matter the cost,” he said simply. That was typical Galactus. He had always been about getting the job done, and damn the consequences anyone else might face in the process.
“Then attack we must,” said Stardust. The transparent herald glittered with the light of a thousand stars. He arced through space toward Tenebrous. The Silver Surfer sighed inwardly. His life had devolved from herald of destruction to herald of hope, but it always meant one thing.
There would always be some kind of noise.
New Corinth, Xandar
“Man your stations! This is a Class A Threat! I repeat, man your stations! Any man who deserts now will be stripped of the Nova Force and forced into manual labor! Do you hear me?” The message was translated from the man’s native language by his addressees’ corps helmets.
In one of the many sublevels of New Corinth, one of several planetoids that made up the rest of Xandar, Star Corporal Fregg Sabor handled his regiment of centurions the way he had trained them. He was the Corps’ drill sergeant, but now, under the stress of a home-territory attack, the Worldmind had told him to ready the troops. He would be leading the rookies into battle.
“Star Corporal Sabor, sir!” addressed one young rookie, obviously of Badoon origin. The Worldmind certainly had an odd knack for choosing its representatives. “What is the threat, exactly? We’ve got nothing on the net, sir.”
“We face every threat by expecting the unexpected, rookie!” exclaimed Sabor, his tentacle-covered head shaking as he spoke. He turned to a Skrull trainee. “You! I saw that! Watch yourself, or I’ll demote your craggy chin straight down to Messenger level again!”
“This wasn’t what I signed up for when I joined the Nova Corps Initiative,” muttered one neophyte to his teammate with a sideways glance.
His teammate cocked an eyebrow. “It could be worse. At least Sabor’s not a human with a robotic alien arm.” Both struggled to stifle their laughter.
The young Novas were all either too preoccupied either fearing for their lives as they prepared for their first true tour of duty or too busy enjoying themselves in the face of certain death to notice the black tendril that crept in through the ventilation duct. It had the appearance of a naked computer cable, black and interlaced with golden wiring.
The tendril snaked silently across the floor, unnoticed. It listed to the left and right, feeling for something, yet seeing nothing. Finally, it found what it was looking for in the form of the Badoon rookie’s calf. The alien let out a short gasp as the tendril punctured his suit, and then he stopped breathing. His biological processes were transmuted to mechanical ones as the virus that had entered his system took hold of his body. The Badoon’s visor clouded as his eyes transformed from flesh to circuitry.
“Objective changed,” he said unsteadily, taking his blasters from their holsters. “Primary target: Nova Centurions.” He pointed the blasters at two of his fellow recruits, who had time to stop laughing and become very, very confused before their vision was filled with the yellow glow of the Badoon’s flash-guns.
“Das’t it all!” shouted Sabor, not losing a beat. “The Badoon’s a turncoat! Scrag the traitor!”
Sabor’s star-lance crashed through the Badoon’s helmet, killing the recruit instantly, but the threat was far from over. He hadn’t realized that two more tendrils had slithered in through the duct in the confusion, and now two more of his recruits were playing for the other team.
Sabor called for order, but he couldn’t hear his own voice over the static that filled his helmet. There were no longer voices coming from half his regiment—only a mixture of static and computer language. His sight was no help at all, either, as all he could see were silhouettes against blaster fire in the small room.
“All who can hear me, scatter, fall back, and regroup in Sector 23-C!” he called, backing up slowly. Suddenly, all the blaster fire stopped. Only seven of the rookies remained standing, and every single one had a black tendril dangling from their ankles. Their blasters were all pointed directly at Star Corporal Sabor.
He stepped backward and held his hands out in surrender, but his troops all stared back blankly, as if the gesture meant nothing to them. “Come, now, troops, what’s gotten into you?”
Not one of the seven moved a hair’s breadth until finally the Skrull cadet said, “Target: Star Corporal Sabor. Crime: Existence. Punishment: Lifeglow transformation (redirect code: the Magus).” Sabor’s teeth clenched at the last word. He knew now what they were up against. The Magus was a leader of the Technarchy, the complete package with mass-murderous instincts and a total disregard for organic life.
Sabor raised his hands in honor of the Church of Hala and shut his eyes. He never saw the tendril that ripped through his form, desecrating his flesh by transmuting it to cybernetics before draining it of all its energy. Far above, connected to the room by the snaking limbs, the Magus felt a short burst as his lifeglow recharged slightly. He took no pleasure in the killing. It was a means to an end—and that was what made him the most dangerous kind of killer of all.
It was not hard for the Silver Surfer to determine which of the Centurions had gone rogue. Only the ones using lethal force against their fellow brothers could he be certain were enemies due to the code of honor that exists among Corpsmen. No Nova of his right mind would attack another with the intention of killing. They were like medieval knights several centuries too late and light years from their original domain.
The Surfer’s hands flashed white with the Power Cosmic as he set off rapid-fire bursts aimed at taking out the Lethals, as he deemed them. He caught sight of several Centurions looking upon him in awe. They had believed they were alone in this fight, but this…the Surfer found it difficult to believe. After all the horror he had caused in the cosmos, they were inspired by him?
He tried to dismiss the notion, but it was prevalent all around him. As he glided past, firing energy from his hands, weary and beaten Centurions were picking themselves up again with what looked impossibly like a grin splayed across their faces. He could imagine what San-Ol would make of the situation.
Turning away from the masses, the Surfer looked once more at the asteroid city that had been broken apart from the rest of the planetoid. It drifted far from the scene of battle, swarmed over by Centurions, though he was too far away to tell whether they were friend, foe, or a mixture of both. Pressing himself against his board, the Surfer rocketed toward the broken rock.
As he looked on, however, he realized that, like a squadron of mosquitoes, a good number of Centurions had launched themselves at him in attack. Then, just as suddenly, they disappeared in a cloud of white energy.
The Surfer turned his head to see Stardust standing there, his staff crackling from the outburst. “They were lost, Surfer. Can you not feel it? There is something tainting the Novas. Those who leave the light leave the tunnel, and do not wake up at the end. They cannot be saved. I can feel him under there. It is the—”
“No!” shouted the Surfer, as he watched a tendril the width of a barrel tear through Stardust. He prepared to attack, waiting for the amorphous Herald to put himself back together, but Stardust appeared to be paralyzed. The Surfer looked on, horrified, as the pattern of circuitry etched across Stardust’s liquid body. The tendril surged, drawing from Stardust and his link to the Power Cosmic itself.
“NO!” shouted an enormous voice that seemed to shake the stars. Galactus surged from beneath the Surfer, hands outstretched. He grasped the tendril and pulled until it snapped, drawing an agonized screech from somewhere below. Galactus cradled his favorite Herald in his hand. “Stardust, answer your master!” he bellowed.
Stardust weakly raised his head. “Forgive me. I was not strong enough,” he whispered. Then his head sagged and he spoke no more.
Galactus released the shell that had been Stardust and screamed. “YOU WILL PAY!” he cried, blasting toward Tenebrous’ form on the end of Xandar with murder on his mind. The pair landed with an earth-shattering tremor as Galactus literally tackled Tenebrous with his arms outstretched. The Surfer sensed several hundred lives go extinct under the pressure of the demigods’ bodies.
“Those people!” gasped the Surfer, realizing the new threat Galactus had made himself, presenting further and more imminent danger than before. The Surfer zipped toward Xandar again, halting at the feet of San-Ol.
“Surfer!” exclaimed the boy. He was breathing heavily the armor on his left leg was cracked. “You need to—”
“Give the order to evacuate!” shouted the Surfer. “Override any superiors! You must get those who can survive away from this place before Galactus kills them all!”
“Fine!” said San-Ol. “Now listen to me! The Worldmind needs you now! He claims the universe is at stake!”
The Surfer was torn again. On one hand, he believed only he could stop Galactus’ rampage, but he also knew the legend of the Worldmind and its wisdom. “What does the Worldmind have to say to me?”
San-Ol shook his head. “He doesn’t answer to me.” He paused. “I’m evacuating Xandar now. Everyone who is able to make it out alive should be out in less than five clicks.”
The Surfer nodded. He had done all he could about Galactus. Now it was time to see if the Worldmind might have something to aid them all in this fight.
The Worldmind was housed in a spherical room so that it had no beginning and no end. Its spirit was the embodiment of the entire history of the Xandarian people—its culture, history, and spirit. The Surfer entered through a porthole, but after it closed, he lost all orientation of up and down once more. He stayed motionless as the whitewashed sphere suddenly glowed an ice blue in the center.
“Silver Surfer,” said the Worldmind slowly. “From the bowels of the universe have come two more destroyers of worlds. You know the reason you have never defeated Galactus?”
The Surfer considered this. “I have never fought Galactus directly,” he said. “I know my power comes from him, and so I have nothing more—nothing different—to allow me a fleeting chance at victory. My gift flows from him, and to use it against him would be like a warrior using his skills upon his master. Why, Worldmind, do you ask?”
“You understand that I am the conduit of the Nova Force?” asked the Worldmind. The Surfer nodded, unsure of where the living embodiment of Xandar was taking this. “Good. You will do everything you can to end the threat posed by Aegis and Tenebrous, yes, Surfer?”
He nodded again. “They destroy without prejudice—with malice, even. They deliberately came here to unleash strife upon the galaxy. They are like the human that hunts for the sake of causing pain rather than only to feed himself.”
“Then come,” said the Worldmind. “Come inside me, and know true power.” The Surfer reluctantly looked upward, knowing that the Worldmind knew what he was doing,
but not quite willing to put all his faith in the construct. Finally, however, he gave in to all doubt, if only so that he would stop feeling so helpless watching the battle as it dwindled outside.
The Surfer flew into the center of the ice-blue energy. The ball fluctuated and flickered red and orange. Inside, the Surfer screamed in agony. It felt as though every nerve in his body had been doused in gasoline and touched off by a million matches. Then, suddenly, it all faded, but not from the inside. Rather, the glow flickered away inside the Surfer. Glowing on the Surfer’s chest was the undulating, undying symbol of the Nova Corps.
“You who have already been imbued with great power now hold within you even more power, and so it is your responsibility to do with it what you must,” said the Worldmind.
The Silver Surfer nodded. “Thank you.” The lights dimmed and flickered before coming back on. “What’s going on, Worldmind?”
The Worldmind recalibrated himself before answering. “Can you feel the life of the planet being sucked away? Your former master wrestles only one of his siblings. The other is dining on my heart and soul—and if she gets the chance to finish, I will die.”
The Surfer held out both of his fists. One pulsed with the white energy of the Power Cosmic; the other held the fiery yellow of the Nova Force. “So long as the Silver Surfer lives, that will not happen.”
Blasting at an even faster rate than before, the Surfer channeled both the Power Cosmic and Nova Force through his board, using them together to create a level of speed and control he had never known before. Before he could blink, he had emerged from the bowels of Xandar back into empty space once more.
The image of Aegis lay ahead of him. She seemed to have more difficulty draining a planet on her own while Tenebrous and Galactus were trading blows at the other end of Xandar. The energy trickled into her instead of exploding from within the planet and being collected in the aftermath.
“Pathetic,” hissed the golden behemoth. She leered at the Surfer, trying to hide how much she was struggling. “Galactus sees fit to take on our brother himself, but sends only his Herald after his sister. Absolutely pathetic.”
“You will leave now,” said the Surfer authoritatively. “You will leave these people in peace.”
“I will leave them in pieces,” she corrected angrily.
The symbol on the Surfer’s chest glowed as he powered up, weaving the two forces at his disposal into one cannon’s blast through his board. The energy rocked Aegis backward, disrupting her eating process and causing her to lose her footing. The second shot knocked her backwards still before causing her to crash to her knees as she over-adjusted her balance.
“Vile filth!” shouted Aegis as she rose to her feet, visibly shaken. It was, perhaps, the first blow she had taken since her birth in the universe before the universe. “Never before has Lady Aegis of All Sorrows been challenged by a mortal being!” She would likely have continued, but a third attack jolted her in the mouth.
The Surfer could tell that Aegis saw only red as she stood once more. She spat only one hate-filled word—an order: “Withdraw.” He watched as Aegis lifted off the rock. Tenebrous soon followed, despite Galactus’ attempts at preventing his leave. The black demigod was accompanied by the Magus and his newfound slaves, all of which dangled around him like dolls tied to him by string.
It had occurred to the Surfer that he was letting them get away, but he was too drained to chase the beings to their next destination. Instead, he retreated back to the Worldmind where, as he collapsed at the bottom of the sphere, he whispered, “It is over.”
The Worldmind considered this before saying, “It is far from over, Silver Surfer, and you have much more greatness to accomplish before all is said and done. Now rise, and lead what Centurions you can find back to me. I have called in all external forces that were not on-site for this battle. Xandar is falling apart at the seams, but it must be put back together without you.”
“Why is that?” asked the Surfer, rising to one knee.
“For you and Galactus, saving Xandar is a pitiful cause. Those creatures are still on the loose, wreaking havoc throughout the galaxy,” said the Worldmind knowingly. “Only you can stop them, Norrin Radd. The fate of the universe lies in your hands.”
Epilogue
Aegis and Tenebrous dined on a planet filled with sentient fauna before pausing for a moment to discuss their plan of action. “The Surfer has changed,” said Aegis. “He has become more of a liability than expected.”
Tenebrous shook his head. “Perhaps the Surfer has not changed so much as we have become predictable. Ordered. We follow the pattern of Galactus, and the Surfer knows what to expect in that regard.”
“How do you mean, brother?” asked Aegis, her head cocked in confusion. “We have been tasked with darkness and culling. Surely we have not become stagnant!”
Tenebrous shook his head, then winced, sore from his brawl with Galactus. “I do not mean to say we have. Rather, we might benefit if there were perhaps some…chaos…on our side. We are not the only ones to have been imprisoned at the beginning of the universe.”
“You do not mean…?” Aegis trembled.
“I know where he is. Brother Diableri of Chaos is in a place that, even with him confined at the center of their planet, he has spawned a series of insane emperors and empresses and the release of the Phoenix herself,” said Tenebrous. “It only makes sense.”
Sudden realization dawned across Aegis’ face. “Then it is done. We are off to Chandilar to release Diableri.” She looked at Tenebrous, eagerness etched across her features.
“The Shi’ar will never realize what struck them!”
To Be Continued!
For one, Sabor was meant to be an alien Gauntlet, a parody if you will. He was just a goofy, one-dimensional character, and I wanted to use his expendable troops to introduce Tenebrous’ herald, who you all know by now has hurt Galactus in a way no one else ever has before. I always saw Stardust as the one herald who ever loved Galactus, something that was practically proven when Stardust killed the last members of his own race in Marvel’s Annihilation: Heralds of Galactus one-shot (something which isn’t technically in MO continuity). By killing Stardust, the Magus has made this much more personal than it was before—and believe you me, he’s going to be gunning after his siblings now more than ever before.
Oh, and if this went by faster than usual, I thought I’d mention that this was a short issue for me for some reason. I went by the plot I pitched and realized I didn’t have a whole lot of substance, so here’s what you got.
Thanks for reading this far,
Hunter
P.S.: This issue is actually an inadvertent catapult for Scott Redmond’s NOVA series, coming soon at you from Marvel Omega! If you’re worried about the fate of Xandar, fear not, True Believer, and go check the series out at its debut!
Recent Comments