Now

The Silver Surfer rocketed through space, kneeling on the silver surfboard that carried him through the galaxy at a speed that few could rival. He was made for quick travel, to be able to scout the planets in the areas of space that his former master could not be bothered to reach and land on in order to determine whether there was life for him to feed upon. Not only was the Surfer fast on his feet, though. He was also fast in the mind.

Where Galactus’ normal reaction to any situation that the planet devourer might encounter was to drain the planet of life or to hit it with the might of a god, the Silver Surfer had the ability to reason and to think through situations. It was part of his curse; it left him with a conscience. This time, that didn’t matter. This time, his quick mind was needed for another reason. He had to come up with a plan. He needed to find a way to put Aegis, Tenebrous, and Diableri in their places, locked away where they could never cause any harm again. He needed to come up with a way for that to happen. He knew that it would not be much further now before he reached the planet where he would find the man who he knew could do what was necessary to set the trap in motion. There were so many things that could go wrong with his plan, but then, that was how things went in this business.

It seemed impossible, but for the Silver Surfer, impossible happened on a daily basis. He could do this. He already had the motivation he needed…

GALACTIC

Part IV: Shaking Legends

By Hunter Lambright

The Beginning of the Universe

In the beginning, there was all, and there was none.

For a man from the planet known as Taa, he knew that his planet, galaxy, universe was dying. He knew that, due to entropy and decay, his race was dying. Why this was happening, he knew not. The man’s name was Galan, and he was a member of a grand family, a pantheon of sorts that held power over different forces of the universe. Galan could not remember his now, but he knew he was the weakest of his siblings.

Galan was a scientist at heart, although they had no word for it then. He traveled in his ship to the center of the universe to see what he could before he died. What he saw horrified him. The universe was crumbling from the inside out, and there was nothing he could do. His universe’s Eternity, a being called Finality, spoke to him, and told him that the end was coming. Finality told Galan that he could save him, that he could send him elsewhere with a new purpose and true meaning in life.

Galan accepted this offer, but what he and Finality never discussed was the fact that Galan had kidnapped and hidden his extended family across his ship, Taa II, masking them from all of Finality by harnessing the entropy that was destroying his universe and using it as a shield. None of them had believed him when he had said that they must leave their universe or die. Knowing he had no time to waste, Galan did not bother convincing them. Instead, he forced them along.

With Finality at his side, Galan closed himself into a stasis pod that latched onto the center of the Everything that was soon to be Nothing, and waited for the world to begin anew.

When Galan awoke in the new universe, he found that the pods with his siblings had ejected from his ship. It seemed that at the end of his Finality, the being had sensed the tagalongs and decided to curse Galan by leaving him with the knowledge that he had saved his family, but that they had been hidden from him, and that they would hate him for what he had done.

Galan, rechristened Galactus, had lived for the past many, many years in full knowledge that his siblings would one day return to him, and that not only would they be angry, they would want to destroy the universe that he had brought them to out of spite for being taken away from theirs.

They were beings without reason, whose only motivations were their desires. They had to be destroyed, or the shift in the natural balance would cause all of this Eternity to tear in half.

Earlier Today

Not long after Galactus finished telling the story of his true origin, the Silver Surfer hovered outside the edge of Chandilar’s atmosphere, staring out into the emptiness and wondering what was going on out there, and if there was a way for this to end well.

“Feather for your thoughts, Surfer?”

The Surfer turned to see Earthquake, the former Imperial Guardsman, floating beside him. Now a Herald of Galactus, the alien floated with a red tint around his body. He had the appearance of the Earth’s interpretation of a Martian, although his skin was gray in color instead of green. His large eyes looked intently at the Surfer’s stoic stare.

“You seem troubled,” the Guardsman continued. “Battling with ends and means?”

“Something like that,” the Surfer admonished. “I can’t help but think that fighting his siblings alone, Galactus might be too occupied to consume more planets. I have responsibilities now far greater than before thanks to this Nova Force inside me. What I did not expect was the doubt that came with it.”

“It will pass, Surfer,” Earthquake said. “I know the feeling. It comes with all responsibility. Being chosen for the Imperial Guard left me feeling more inadequate than empowered. It will get better in time.”

The Silver Surfer nodded. “Provided we stop Aegis, Tenebrous, and now Diableri first.”

“Agreed,” Earthquake said. He gazed out towards the stars in the direction of the Surfer’s stare. “What are you looking at, Surfer?”

“Home,” the Silver Surfer replied, a rare tinge of sadness welling up in his tone. “Zenn-La disappears and reappears so often, I do not know whether it exists anymore, but I do know its direction. Perhaps one day, once I have atoned for the lives I have condemned, that will be a possibility, but my soul, if I still have one, knows this will never happen.”

“The curse of the warrior,” Earthquake said, nodding knowingly. “We are a different kind, Surfer. We do what must be done. We do not matter. It is the rest of them that do.”

“I understand that,” the Surfer said. He stood upright, no longer slouching in the direction of his home and his love. “That is why we must end this before any more planets are destroyed at the hunger of these gods.”

“What is my part in your plan?” Earthquake asked solemnly. “I know that you had a part in my selection, Surfer. What makes me key to your plan over Smasher or Manta, or any other Guardsman?”

“I would explain it to you, but you will know when the time comes. If I tell you now, I risk giving Galactus the information, and by giving Galactus the information, I risk giving it to his siblings. Who knows what kinds of bonds they share?” the Silver Surfer explained. “Just know that when I tell you what to do, you must do it.”

“Then it will be done,” Earthquake said. “How soon must we set our plan in motion?”

“I begin laying the pieces soon. You and Galactus will follow, but slowly. If they feel Galactus’ advances, our plan runs the risk of premature interruption, and that would end it all,” the Surfer said solemnly. “Do you understand?”

“I do,” said Earthquake.

The Surfer nodded. “Then as soon as I gather the Nova Corps boy, San-Ol, we shall leave. We must set up our pieces for the endgame and pray that the siblings do not know who is playing which side of the board.”

“This is such a bad idea, for the record,” said San-Ol, standing behind the Silver Surfer on his board, hanging on for dear life. The Nova Corps messenger could have flown by his own power, but the trip would have taken drastically longer, and time was of the essence. The longer they waited, the more planets that could be consumed by the Galacti.

Without looking backwards, the Surfer asked, “Why is this a bad idea?”

San-Ol cocked an eyebrow. “I keep forgetting, you weren’t raised for membership in the Corps. You kinda had it thrust upon you.”

“I see,” the Surfer said. “What do you mean by that?”

Sighing, San-Ol said, “They teach us in our elementary classes that the Nova Corps has had a conflict with the Universal Church of Truth since the inception of the Corps. The Church sees itself as the primary force of law in the galaxy, and it sees the Nova Corps as a threat to that. The Worldmind, years ago, would not submit to the authority of their Pope, so to speak, and, well, things have been rough ever since.”

“Why do you think we cannot reason with them? Surely the matters of a trio of Galacti in this galaxy takes precedence over a petty feud,” said the Surfer.

“You can’t reason with them because they shoot on sight of the Nova Corps insignia. Shoot first, ask questions later. That’s the motto of the Universal Church of Truth,” San-Ol replied. “And, if you haven’t forgotten, you’re wearing that insignia on your chest.”

The Surfer glanced downward at the six-pointed star that radiated with orange energy from his chest. “I see. This could be…problematic.”

Looking up ahead, the Silver Surfer could see the mammoth body of Cathedral-Three, one of the Church’s hub ships in the galaxy. The ship was shaped like an aircraft carrier of Earth, but a hundred times the size. Half of the ship was covered in an enormous dome that the Surfer knew was used for worship purposes. It was their holy room, their place of prayer. Normally, the Cathedral ships were docked on the planet Sacrosanct, but the Surfer had heard rumors that an invasion from the Negative Zone had led to an evacuation of the Church’s home planet.

“So, how are we going to get an audience with the ship’s Cardinal without getting blown up first?” San-Ol asked, staring in awe at the might of the ship before him.

The Surfer watched as, in reaction to his approach, Cathedral-Three deployed a squadron of ten Circuit Rider attack ships. “The answer, San-Ol, is that we are not,” said the Silver Surfer. “Brace yourself.”

“What?” San-Ol asked, but he reacted quickly, kneeling on the surfboard and clamping onto the Surfer’s calves.

The Silver Surfer watched as weapons dropped from their housings on the Circuit Rider ships. He could see the pale yellow faith energy welling up at the tips of the launchers. The Surfer called up the combined power of the Nova Force and the Power Cosmic at his disposal, forging a half-sphere of flowing gold and silver energy just as the Circuit Riders fired. The Surfer grunted at the effort of sustaining the shield under the force bearing down on him. He was attacked by the physical force of the faith of a billion members of a church that spanned galaxies, but the combined might of the Power Cosmic and the Nova Force held strong.

“So, do you happen to have a white flag with you?” San-Ol asked, his eyes wide in awe at the sight of the ricocheting colors and lights.

“No,” said the Surfer, as the surfboard began picking up speed. The Power Cosmic sheared its way through the vacuum and into the heat of the pack of Circuit Riders, embedding the pair in the middle of the armada so that no ship could aim at them without risking deflective friendly fire. It was a simple, yet daring solution.

As soon as all the Circuit Rider ships had turned to face him, the Silver Surfer broadcast himself so that his voice was accessible to the computers, another handy tool provided by the Corps. “I come to the Universal Church of Truth in peace. My name is Norrin Radd, but you may know me better as the Silver Surfer, the former Herald of Galactus. I come as a representative of the Nova Corps to humbly beg for your help in a conflict that demands our common interest.”

He paused. “We have come because we have found a way to destroy Galactus.”

Cardinal Raker stood at the doorway of the great dome, prepared to play warden to the Silver Surfer and his Nova Corps tagalong. “I believe,” he muttered, “that this will not go wrong.” It was his prayer, for fighting in the sanctuary would condemn Cathedral-Three as an unholy place.

The Surfer entered, and Cardinal Raker, obscured by his tall helmet and billowing garments, stepped in front of him, beckoning for him to follow. The Surfer followed behind, hovering over the ground on his board. He would not step off in the middle of the Church of Truth. Some grounds were better left untouched. San-Ol still rode behind him, but the slow speed allowed him to stand on his own.

The Surfer came to a half as Cardinal Raker stepped aside, leaving him in front of a golden throne, where a young, robed woman sat. “You had best not be lying, Surfer, or my people will destroy the splinters of Xandar.”

“I do not lie,” the Surfer said. “I have a plan and opportunity to rid this universe of the siblings of Galactus. It can be…modified…to remove Galactus as well.”

“Siblings?” asked the Pope. “But we have only ever heard rumors that there might be more of them. What are you talking about, Surfer?”

“You have already made it clear that you know of the near-destruction of Xandar,” said the Surfer. “That was done by Aegis and Tenebrous, two siblings of Galactus who were released from the Crunch.” He paused. “They also destabilized Chandilar by burrowing for Diableri, another sibling. If we do not act now, they could amass an army of Galacti, devouring planet after planet until the universe ceases to exist.”

“We have to assess our priorities, Surfer,” said the Pope. She leaned forward in her throne. “Even now, one of our Cathedral ships is under attack outside the orbit of Godthab Omega from the forces of the Annihilation Wave. The universe could end either way.”

“Godthab Omega?” the Surfer asked, his surprise evident. “The next piece of my plan, a being, has taken residence there. We can help each other.”

“You, a Nova warrior, a Herald of Galactus, would aid the Universal Church of Truth?” the Pope asked, laughing.

“I know no prejudice against you,” the Surfer said. “I come to you because the man I seek is Glorian, disciple of the Shaper of Worlds. I need his power to draw the siblings to one place.” He paused again. “However, Glorian’s power is weak. I come to you asking to be lent a Cardinal who can give Glorian the ability to believe in himself. I know that the Church powers its Cardinals through faith. They need to simply believe something for it to be true, backed by the faith of the billions-strong Church.”

The Pope nodded, as if she were chewing this over. She turned to Cardinal Raker. “Cardinal, you will lead a squadron of twenty Circuit Riders to Cathedral-Seven outside Godthab Omega. There, the Surfer will aid you in saving our ship from the forces of Annihilus. Only if you are successful will you then aid the Surfer in his quest. Do you understand?”

Cardinal Raker hesitated before saying, “If it is the will of the Church, it is my will also.”

“Good,” said the Pope. “Now, go, and hope you can save my comrade’s ship, or the Church will help no one today but themselves. I will notify the Matriarch of my decision.”

“Thank you,” the Surfer said, bowing his head and turning his board to the exit. As soon as he, San-Ol, and Cardinal Raker had left the sanctified zone of the dome, the Surfer turned to San-Ol. “Fly to Xandar and tell them to halt all outstanding conflicts with the Universal Church of Truth. I don’t want the Pope of Cathedral-Three to retract her vow in the face of a new conflict.”

“Sure, I can just beam them it right now,” San-Ol said.

The Surfer shook his head. “No, Tenebrous monitors waves of all kinds. He can see the darkness between, and I believe that includes the invisible. Your news would be safest told to the Worldmind in person. Your role in this is crucial.”

San-Ol nodded, understanding his task. He saluted in deference to the Surfer’s higher rank. “Yes, sir. Consider it done.” His boots powered up as the piece of the Nova Force that had been imparted to him lit up. He headed for the departure docks.

Cardinal Raker stood at the Silver Surfer’s side as both waited until San-Ol disappeared. “The Worldmind made a wise choice in enlisting your aid, Surfer,” Raker said, his teeth gleaming from inside the helmet. “Though its decree was for you to end the threat of the siblings, you may very well do the universe a greater gift if your plan pans out.”

“I hope it does, Cardinal,” said the Surfer. “I hope that you have no conflict with me. It is essential for the fate of the universe that we work together.”

“The fate of Cathedral-Seven hangs in the balance,” Raker said, avoiding the question. “Let us move before we lose another ship to this war waged by Annihilus.”

Now

Godthab Omega loomed in the distance, but closer was the hulking mass that was Cathedral-Seven. The Surfer arrived several minutes ahead of Cardinal Raker and his fleet of Circuit Riders. The sight before him was disturbing.

Insectoid carapaces scurried across the hull of the ship, seeking an entrance to the massive ship. The Surfer knew that he could not allow the ship to be taken because it would give Annihilus’ forces another stronghold in his war. Though the vast majority of the war took place elsewhere, the Surfer knew that if he could even win this one battle, it might prevent the tide from turning closer to Annihilus.

“If there are any members of the Nova Corps in the area of Godthab Omega, requesting their presence outside orbit on the ship known as Cathedral-Seven,” the Surfer said, using the Nova Force to send the call to any nearby members of the Corps. He doubted there were any, though. The Corps was stretched too thin after Aegis and Tenebrous tore apart Xandar.

It was up to him, then.

The Surfer swept to the dome, first, looking at the bugs that crawled over it like moths drawn to a lamp. The populace of Cathedral-Seven was gathered inside in a last-ditch effort to seal themselves away in safety. It seemed that only a handful of Cardinals was left defending the other entrances to the ship.

Powering up the Nova Force, the Surfer channeled it through his left arm. His right arm fueled up with the strength of the Power Cosmic. Clapping his hands together, the Surfer shot a beam at the dome that disintegrated Annihilus’ hatchlings. The dome held, its force backed up by the faith energy of those who remained inside. On closer inspection, the Surfer could see that every creature in the dome was on its knees, praying.

Turning around, the Surfer saw Cardinal Raker arriving with his fleet of Circuit Riders. “Take out the surrounding ships,” Raker ordered the Riders. “Any individuals able to survive the vacuum, take to the entrances. We must not let our holy place be soiled!”

At his words, the Circuit Rider ships separated and positioned themselves around the ship, firing up their faith cannons to rid the ship as best they could of the creatures without damaging it. Their blasts razed the ship, devouring the attacking Wave en masse as they were swallowed by the power of faith. The Circuit Riders spiraled aboutCathedral-Seven as if they were engulfing it in a whirlpool, hoping to strip off the Wave like bugs in a whirlwind.

The Silver Surfer ignored this, pinpointing the highest concentration of fighting at the entrance to the ship’s docks. A cluster of thirty bugs struggled to force their way in through a breached dock. Several Cardinals, their helmets obscured by a breathing apparatus force field, fired blasts from their scepters at the horde of creatures struggling to gain access to their holy ground. The Surfer powered inward, vaporizing three of the bugs with his combined power. He weaved in and around them on his board with the ease of thought, shifting his weight slightly. Again and again he fired off blasts of gold mixed with silver, noticing how the lines between the silver and gold were slowly getting more and more blurred. It was getting easier to use both powers together, but he wasn’t sure that was necessarily a good thing.

Again and again came the milky golden flash as the Surfer destroyed bug after bug, working his way toward the entrance. When he’d cleared the last of the bugs away, the Cardinal at the door shouted, “Die, infidel!” firing its weapon, but the Surfer shielded himself.

“I come in peace, at the best of the Pope of Cathedral-Three,” said the Surfer.

The Cardinal gritted his teeth. “You lie! A Pope of the Universal Church of Truth would never ally herself with a Nova Corpsman!”

He prepared to fire again, but his weapon was suddenly aimed toward his feet. Cardinal Raker took his hand off the man’s gun. “The Surfer speaks the truth. My Circuit Riders have cleared the hull, but the Surfer was instrumental in disrupting their attack. Had he not been here, my ships might have breached the dome in their attack. Thank him, and thank the Magus he came in time.”

The Surfer nodded humbly at the recognition. He turned to Raker. “We have business on the surface now, or else our efforts to save this ship will be in vain as a pantheon of Galacti roams the universe at will—unless we stop them here.”

Raker nodded. “I understand the implications. Lead the way, Surfer.”

Godthab Omega

The surface of Godthab Omega was rocky and arid, but it had gained a reputation as a planet for lost souls, for people who had been exiled from their home planets. They had established communities where they could coexist without having to interfere with any of their respect customs or beliefs. It was a quiet society, and that was what had attracted Glorian, disciple of the Shaper of Worlds.

He sat in a clearing, though none of his body touched the ground. The yellow- and red-skinned man hovered three feet above the ground, his dark red cape gathered around his body. His legs were crossed, and he rested his wrists on his knees. As he concentrated, life sprung from the barren ground in front of him. Orange grass sprouted in the dirt, and dirt collapsed to form water. Glorian raised his arm, and a twisted tree made of rock sprung from in between the blades of grass, its rocky roots twined in through the soil and water. Then, with a zigzag of his other hand, the entire scene folded in on itself. “Enjoying the show, Surfer?” Glorian asked.

The Surfer was unfazed by Glorian’s acknowledgement of his presence. “The universe has need of your abilities.”

Glorian smirked. “You would ask for a second-rate planet-changer?” he asked. “Was the true Shaper of Worlds unavailable to you?”

“The true Shaper of Worlds has no concerns over his own mortality,” the Surfer said. “Your life depends on your involvement in the task we have prepared for you.”

“We?” asked Glorian, his back still turned to the Surfer. “I had assumed the Cardinal had followed you, rather than the two of you working together. This task must be important indeed.” He turned around and faced Cardinal Raker. “You know, Cardinal, on Godthab Omega, religion is free, but there is a high price for anyone who wishes to force it on a soul.”

“The Church is not interested in proselytizing. I grow weary of your jests. Will you save the universe or not?”

Glorian shrugged. “I am no god. I am a man. What use am I in the matters of the universe?”

“You are key. The only thing you have to do is change this planet and bring it to life,” said the Surfer. “You enjoy creating life. This task should be simple for such a being of your stature and power.”

“It seems to me, Cardinal, that the Surfer is the one who jests,” Glorian said. “My power is limited at most to an acre. To transform the planet would require power that I do not have.”

Cardinal Raker stepped forward. “That is why I am here, Disciple. I can channel the faith of billions into you. Would that give you the strength you need to change the planet, especially if that change were temporary?”

Glorian’s eyes twinkled at the thought of that power. “Why do you make this request, Surfer?”

The Surfer’s gaze remained stoic still. “Simply know that your deed will be instrumental in the defeat of Galactus and his brood. That should be enough motivation.”

Glorian nodded, but his look was skeptical. “It will be done.”

“Good,” the Surfer said simply. “Now, Raker, if you will explain to Glorian how your function will work, I must take to the skies. Galactus awaits word of my discoveries, and I doubt I can keep any of the floodwaters at bay any longer. As soon as Cathedral-Seven is out of the immediate vicinity, I will move.”

“The ship is gone,” Raker replied. “The Church moves in mysterious ways, and conventional space is no limit.”

The Surfer nodded. “Then begin. I will meet you when the time comes.” He then took flight, angling his board upward into the upper atmosphere until he broke through the layer of ozone that made the planet inhabitable. He prayed it would remain so when he was done.

As space darkened around him, so did his thoughts. It was true that his plan might be the greatest good in the situation, but some of the ends were less than justifiable. The Surfer had trouble admitting that failure on his part would mean the deaths of the inhabitants of Godthab Omega, as they would be devoured bait. He also knew that, when the time came, he would have to deal with the Universal Church of Truth. As long as he held the Nova Force, his alliance with the Church would remain tenuous at best. Cardinal Raker was a soldier and knew how to follow orders, but orders could be changed. The Surfer hoped the Matriarch did not receive news of Cathedral-Three’s Pope’s decision in the midst of the final moment, or Raker’s orders might change in a crucial moment. He would have to have faith himself that this would not happen.

It also troubled him that, after all this time, he was perhaps just a few short hours away from being rid of Galactus in a plan that even he was not sure would work. It depended on so many factors, including the way Earthquake’s power worked, Glorian’s ability to channel the Universal Church of Truth, and many, many other wild cards. Diableri himself was the wildest card in the bunch. The sibling born of chaos, he could do so much to throw a wrench in the works. Faith seemed to be the keyword of the evening.

The Surfer was so embroiled in his own thoughts that he paid no attention to the things that he passed, nor the things that were in front of him. He had traveled this way to get to Godthab Omega; he had no reason to believe anything had changed.

“Halt, Surfer,” said a familiar, feminine voice. “We request an audience.”

He looked up and stopped immediately. In front of him hovered Aegis, the gold-skinned sister of Galactus. She was flanked on either side by his brothers, Diableri and Tenebrous. “I will fight you,” the Surfer warned, his hands gathering the raw power of the Nova Force into his hands.

Aegis held up a hand. “There is no need. We are not here for a squabble.”

“Agreed,” said Diableri, as what seemed to be empty space behind him fuzzed out, filled with tiny spots that appeared like a television screen without any signal. Literal millions of chaos sprites hovered around their rejoined master, gathered from across the universe. They hovered there, their miniature wings fluttering inexplicably in the vacuum of space, awaiting their orders. “We are not here for a petty squabble,” Diableri continued. “We are all adults here. In truth? We are here to demolish you. Let Galactus find the pieces of his pretty toy once we have finished.”

Diableri gestured forward with a strong, purple arm, his index finger pointed directly at the Surfer’s heart. Then, at his command, the sprites attacked.

Each one radiated with the might of the Power Cosmic.