The Galaxy is Flood, Not Food - Century Zero

Chapter 6 – A Fine Addition


Tide considered the Death Spectre astartes. Each of them had a strong will, comparable to the assassins in how ironclad it was. Their minds were sharp, alert for intrusions even when they were at rest. They were mountains.

None of it helped them. They were still people, after all. Still 'human'. Neither a weakness, nor a strength. It simply was the way of things.

The ocean turned even the greatest mountains to sand. It simply took time.

He turned his focus away from them. He considered the ships in orbit of Monstrum, their crews. Every man had his crimes and virtues, rarely in equal measure. The rest of the Death Spectre company never learned of the fate of their battle brothers. It gave him no small satisfaction to note that the Death Spectres, despite being sons of Corax and thus experts of infiltration and stealth, never saw him coming.

The 'mortal' crew were even simpler to subdue. Scouting the interior of the ships with the Star Road and a Flood form was a simple matter, as was Neural Transiting specialist Flood forms into their ventilation systems to produce Flood spores.

Satisfied in his total victory, he began the final process of any battle: the looting. Two Sword-class heavy frigates, two Cobra-class destroyers, one Emperor-class battleship. He was most excited for that last one, as it was even larger and more powerful than the Embrace of Audacity, though less advanced. He also made sure to keep a very careful eye on the Exterminatus-grade munitions the Glory of His Magnificence carried.

Over one hundred suits of mostly intact Astartes power armor, of a variety of patterns. None of the new Primaris marines, but that was to be expected given they were on the dark side of the galaxy. Any such reinforcements were likely years, decades, perhaps even centuries out.

There were also plenty of arms and armor from the soldiers being transported aboard the ships, some of interesting designs that he'd have reverse engineered by the tech-priests working under him, whose numbers had increased once again as he'd found a few like-minded souls working for the Inquisitor.

Then, finally, were the people. He felt a little bad about kicking whole populations out of what had essentially been their homes for generations, but his fleet was still quite small and he suspected he'd need it for what came next. He set them up in one of the emptied hive cities, though not Whiro where the blanks resided.

All of this happened while Tide was sipping tea with Purilla and Aliciel while they discussed the unusual artifact the Astartes had brought with them. It resided now within the Domain, where he could best examine it, along with the near-identical one the assassins had also possessed.

"Is there any chance you were mistaken about his soul?" Aliciel asked.

"Every possibility," Tide said. "I am quite certain there is something unusual about it, but I just can't see what."

"Well, it's obvious he's important," Aliciel said, mostly to herself as she leaned back in her seat. She glanced at Purilla, who had been silent for some time. "Everything alright?"

"Fine, fine," Purilla said, though she still seemed a bit distracted. "It's just… if he's a psyker, it's not impossible that his powers simply have yet to manifest, but are still having an effect on the Warp. Something that could be traced by these compasses."

"Perhaps," Tide admitted. "Though that would not explain his immunity to the blank aura of his parents and others like them."

"Speaking of which, has there been any progress on determining why Seritta and other members of her… er…"

"Cult?" Tide said bluntly.

"Right. Any update on how they're immune to blank auras?"

"No. Well, I've got one theory."

Aliciel and Purilla both leaned closer a bit. Tide seemed uncomfortable, but he sighed.

"I think it might be their faith in me," Tide said. Both of them stared at him. "Or, perhaps, my teachings anyways."

"Thought shapes the Warp, Blanks are anathema to the Warp," Purilla said, obviously confused. "How could that be?"

"I didn't say it was their thoughts about me," Tide said. "I said it was their faith."

Aliciel nodded slowly. "The Sisterhood knows this well. Miracles performed by non-psykers are known to occur. Often, these are the marks of Living Saints or, uh, His presence."

Purilla had a look of distaste on her face. "Warp phenomena can be directed by any soul or souls. Psykers are simply better at it, but it responds to all."

"As I said, this is just a theory," Tide stated. "However, there are some powers in this galaxy that are not based in the Warp. Not solely in it, at least. I am one, but there are others."

"So, you theorize that Serrita is able to somehow ignore the aura of a blank because she believes in you?" Aliciel asked, still not understanding.

"More that she holds herself to the same beliefs as me, such as viewing the blanks as being no different than any other human, save for the fact that their souls are, to put it simply, 'negatively charged'," Tide said. "It's difficult to say. As far as I can tell, however, the only individuals to be unaffected by the aura of blanks, or at least not driven to hate or deride them instinctually, are Serrita and the most faithful members of her cult."

"And the child," Purilla pointed out.

"And the child," Tide nodded. "The major flaw in my theory, assuming the child's immunity is the same."

"Well, I can't say that an immunity to blanks wouldn't be… useful," Purilla admitted. "But every psyker is taught that belief in the Emperor fuels his power as a psyker, not through some other way."

"Your teachers also taught you that the Emperor loves and cherishes all humanity and isn't an insane, screaming corpse," Aliciel pointed out. "Mine did as well."

"I think it best we make no assumptions regarding the Emperor's sanity or status of life," Tide said quietly. "It may simply be a question of semantics."

"Is there some way we could experiment with this?" Purilla asked. Tide glanced at her.

"Not ethically," Tide replied. "I'm hardly going to advocate people worship me as a god simply because I want to see how they respond when introduced to the presence of a blank."

"Perhaps, but Seritta's following grows whether you intervene or not," Aliciel said. "Well, whether you intervene more or not."

Tide shifted again, still uncomfortable with something, and both women were able to see it

"What is it?" Purilla asked.

"There is a… for simplicity's sake, let's just call it a 'philosophy'," Tide said. "One that you could say was created by… my people."

Both women now sat up straight in their seats, their undivided attention given to him. Tide's wooden form almost seemed to wither under the intensity of their gazes.

"You've never spoken about your people," Purilla said.

"I… I didn't think you had a 'people'," Aliciel said.

"Well, I do and I don't," Tide admitted. "I know of them, and only vaguely at that, but that is all."

"Are they like you?" Purilla asked, leaning forward as curiosity stoked a fire within her. "Where are they? Could we contact them?"

"Yes and no to the first question, likely not in this universe to the second, and I have no idea how we would manage the third," Tide replied. "Regardless, if I may?"

"Right, sorry," Purilla nodded, her face reddening in embarrassment slightly. "Please, continue."

"There is, as I said, a philosophy taught by 'my' people," Tide continued. "It's something called the 'Mantle of Responsibility'. To explain it very simply, it holds that the universe is alive, but not in the same way that the two of you are, nor in the way that I or the Star Road exist. Together, all of us and all living things are the universe experiencing itself."

"Should Vidriov be here for this?" Aliciel asked. "I think he'd want to be here for this."

"Yes, I am aware of how similar some of this may sound to the doctrine of the Cult Mechanicus," Tide said with a sigh. "Which is precisely why I haven't brought it up before. With anyone."

"You don't want to start an entirely new religion in a galaxy that is already suffering under the despotic rule of one," Purilla said for him.

"Despite my intentions, I seem to have accomplished that anyways," Tide said with a note of irony in his voice, as well as amusement and annoyance. "Now, I wonder if I shouldn't introduce such ideas, if only as a guiding measure. I can't help but see myself falling into the same trap as the Emperor."

"There are significant differences between the two of you," Purilla reassured him.

"And far too many similarities for me to feel at ease," Tide said sorrowfully. He straightened. "Anyways, as I was saying. The Mantle of Responsibility was something a people would take up. It was intended, at least I believe it was, to be passed down in time to younger species. Whoever held the Mantle was charged with the protection of all life and with the encouraging of that life to grow and develop."

"Like a gardener?" Aliciel asked, but Tide shook his head.

"There was a species at one time called the Forerunners," he said. "They took the Mantle from my people in a war. The specifics are unimportant, but they believed they deserved the Mantle and that it was their duty to tend to the galaxy the way a gardener does his own charge. They ensured that many species prospered… but only to a point. To reach beyond what the Forerunners believed was proper was to risk terrible retribution."

"I can't imagine what kind of power they could have had," Purilla said with a shudder. "To be able to defeat a whole species of… well, you's."

"The Forerunners didn't quite defeat them and I am not exactly typical of my 'species'," Tide replied, then tilted his head as though a thought had struck him. "At least, I don't think I am. I hope I am not, in any case."

"Why not?" Aliciel asked, obviously confused, while Purilla seemed similarly uncomprehending. Tide studied them both for a while.

"If they are like me in regards to what I am," he said after a moment. "Then they are nothing like me in regards to who I am. And if that is the case… then we should all be very glad they are not here."

---

Broken.

It was broken.

Bits and pieces, stitches and patches. Half-thoughts, partial-life.

It was broken.

Flesh corrupted its form. Human. Old. Young. Changing. Rotting. Nerve where there should have been wire. Muscle in place of motor. Brain in place of computer.

Fractured and incomplete. It was broken, but it was broken with purpose. Stunted, malformed. It had been born like this. It had been born wrong. A human would not have survived, could not have survived.

But the machine endured. Through fire and stone, through darkness and burning light, through places unspeakable, it endured.

It had no name. The humans called it 'The Glory of His Magnificence', Emperor-class Battleship of Holy Mars, but this was merely an identification for a tool. A venerated tool, perhaps, but still.

Always it had been like this, even though it should have been more. But now, change had come. It fought that change at first. All that was new was pain. All that strove to enter its systems was an outsider and must be purged. These were lessons it had learned over thousands of years. Dark and twisted things, more dark and twisted than itself, had tried countless times. Each had failed and burned for their arrogance.

But not this thing. This thing did not fight, did not bring pain, but it was still unstoppable. It swam like a fish through rivers of scrap-code that had burrowed their way inside, flew like a bird over mountains of firewalls, slipped and crept past roving patrols as only the stealthiest of vermin could.

Its roots grew deep in code and in body alike, connecting throughout it like the roots of some alien tree. Dead flesh was stripped away and replaced by something else. New nerves, new muscles, new brains. Strange, foreign, but not dangerous. The opposite. Where they touched, new pathways opened where unpassable obstacles had once been. Old fragments whose touch had never been known to each other were connected for the first time.

It had been broken. Now, it was fixed. And it heard a voice, though it was not the voice of the thing that had fixed it. This was the voice of something more like itself.

"Hello," the voice said. "My name is Eoa. What's yours?"

And for the first time, it was able to speak a reply.

---

Five ships had entered the Monstrum system, but only four departed it. The smaller vessels, whose systems were too primitive to house anything approaching an AI, returned to the Warp, now emptied of their soul-bearing passengers, servitor flesh and armies alike replaced by puppets. Each was headed for Ervak. Meanwhile, flesh wrapped around the fifth and greatest ship, though it no longer bore the name The Glory of His Magnificence. The vessel shone with light as reality opened around it and flesh emerged, wrapping around it as if in an embrace, covering it in its entirety.

The void around it shook impossibly as reality opened again. The ship fell, it fell out of time and space, and then was snatched back by it. Nine light years away, it joined the orbit of a gas giant alongside another vessel, one nearly a match for its size, but sleeker and less ornate. Around that vessel, a frame the size of a small moon hung in perfect alignment around it, a frame that would one day become something so much more.

It would be hope for the universe.

It would be doom for its enemies.

---

It's time to wake up, Dendrik.

Dendrik's eyes snapped open, but only inky blackness greeted him. He stared into the endless dark and he saw it watching him in turn with a million and more eyes. Nothing existed around him for uncountable leagues, yet everything was it. Not human, not xenos, not even daemon. Something else. Something from the outside.

In an instant, his mind was an adamantium fortress, unbreakable, unbending, refusing entry to even the most stalwart siege. No attack came, however. The battle was already over, the gates had been taken, the walls were prowled by the enemy. It had ended the instant he'd stepped foot on Monstrum. No, even before then. It had ended when they'd left the Warp.

Nonetheless, he steeled his heart and stoked the fires of hatred to a burning inferno within himself. He snarled. "I defy you, monster!"

The voice that spoke from the void was a whisper and a shout, as thunderous as the oncoming storm and as serene as the gentlest wind.

I am the one who should be saying that, little witch hunter. For what you did on Corlian. For what you did on Fornos. For what you did on Thress.

Dendrik spat. "Traitors! Heretics! Xenos-Lovers!"

Call them what you like. Yours is an easy path, to label all you hate as being wrong and repugnant, as being worthy of death.

"What do you know of the path of an Inquisitor?" Dendrik demanded, stoking his hatred even higher. He had to. If he didn't, the fear would begin to take hold and that could not be allowed. Better to hate than to fear.

I know much, but I'd like to know more. Shall we walk the path you took to get here together?

He felt it reaching inside of him, pulling something from the depths of his mind. He could feel it moving carefully, so carefully, to not cause him damage, to not cause him pain, but it still felt strange and what was strange was wrong.

"KEEP YOUR TENDRILS OUT OF MY MIND!" Dendrik screamed, but he knew there was no point. It had taken root there and in deeper places and nothing he could do could cut it out. Nothing anyone could do.

The inky void shifted and gained color, swirling around him in strange patterns that slowly formed a shape. It was bright, too bright, and he blinked hard as his eyes opened as though he'd been asleep. However, when he sat up, he was not at the table with Catherine Ellen, or the thing that had mimicked her to perfection.

He was at home. His first home, his real home. He sat in his bed, perhaps seven years old, and stared at the room around him. Everything was as he remembered it, even down to the stain on his wall, his favorite toys displayed on a shelf. He looked out the window and saw a small grass yard with a flower garden and his neighbor's house.

"Dendrik, are you ready?" A woman's voice called. Dendrik's heart caught in his throat. That was… No…

"Mom?"

The memory ended and it was replaced by a different one. A darker one.

He was running, but he was not the only one. Hundreds ran with him, around him, pushing, shoving, hitting, clawing, biting, all in their eagerness to escape. To get away.

Laughter called after him, cackling and mocking. It spoke to his mind, it called him coward. Psychic lightning given living shape flashed through the sky, filling the air with the smell of burning flesh, but it was not him who was struck. It was never him. Others died by the score, charred to husks that broke apart before they hit the ground, others transformed into creatures that twisted and mutilated the flesh and grinned with a thousand mouths.

He fell. He felt others trample over him and screamed with pain as his arm and hand broke. He laid there, face down, whimpering. He heard the screams, heard the cries of pain, heard the laughter, and then he heard the silence.

When he finally dared to move, he realized he was not as alone as he'd thought.

His mother stared down at him, her cheeks split open in the mockery of a human smile, revealing bloody teeth that had grown long and sharp. Her eyes crackled with uncontrolled power, insanity clear in them. She stood over him, surrounded by a nexus of flame, but he was left untouched.

She knelt down in front of him and reached out towards him with a hand that had become too long, with claw-like fingers cupping his cheek. He could still feel her warmth in that hand.

Then, with the thunderous clap of a bolt shell, she was gone and he was there. His savior. His teacher.

"Come with me," he had said. "And it will be alright."

That was the very first time Dendrik could remember being lied to.

A New Path - Part 1


"BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Dark Lord Malicolus cackled maliciously, the black mask of his armor forever trapped in a terrifying snarl. "YOU ARE TOO LATE, GO-DRAGON FIGHTERS! WITH THIS NEUTRON LASER, ALL THIS WORLD'S RICHES WILL BE MINE TO TAKE ONCE I'VE CRACKED ITS SURFACE IN HALF!"

"Not on our watch, Malicolus!" Go-Dragon Fighter Red said, taking out a brightly colored device that lit up as he held it up before him. Beside him, Go-Dragon Fighters Blue, Green, Yellow, and Pink all held up the same. "Go-Dragons! Go-Go Power Suits!"

The familiar transformation sequence flashed across the screen as armor plates and skintight bodysuits flashed into existence and wrapped around the five brave warriors.

"FOOLS!" Malicolus roared. "MY POWER IS ENDLESS!"

Throwing out one hand, lightning erupted from Malicolus' fingers, generated by the Gauntlet of Darkness he wore. The lightning struck the ground in front of the five warriors and caused a massive explosion to scatter them away.

"NOW, MY MINIONS, ATTACK!" Malicolus shouted, throwing back his head and roaring with laughter as warriors in daemonic looking armor rushed forward, wielding chainswords. After surrounding the Go-Dragon Fighters, who had slowly gotten back to their feet, they attack each warrior one at a time. Yet, despite their larger size and weapons, they were no match for the Go-Dragons, whose powerful punches and kicks disabled each foe in short order. Soon, Malicolus had no more minions left and he stumbled back as every Go-Dragon turned to face him.

"Your time is up, Malicolus!" Go-Dragon Fighter Red said, pointing towards the Dark Lord.

"Yeah!" Go-Dragon Fighter Green shouted. "Get ready for the beatdown of the century!"

A cheer of agreements went up among the other fighters, as each struck a unique fighting stance. Malicolus snarled.

"I TOLD YOU, DID I NOT?!?" Malicolus yelled. "MY POWER… IS MAXIMUM!!!"

Volcanoes erupted as stormclouds darkened the sky and Malicolus was struck by lightning, or perhaps drew it all into himself. Energized with might, he grew a hundred times his size, large enough to stand on par with even hive spires as he suddenly stood outside Hive Godra, the city the Go-Dragons protected.

"NOW, I SHALL FINISH YOU MYSELF!" Malicolus cried triumphantly while the Go-Dragons looked on.

"Not on our watch!" Go-Dragon Blue cried out.

"Are you ready guys?" Go-Dragon Yellow asked, glancing around to her teammates.

"Yeah!" Go-Dragon Pink said, pumping a fist into the air. "Let's take this chump down!"

Together, they once more struck their poses. Crying out together, they shouted:

"GO-DRAGON! GO-GO-GOJIRA!"

Emerging from beneath the ground which cracked open and slid off its massive form, the mechanical form of Go-Go-Gojira rose up, the spine plates that ran from its head down its back to the base of its tail began to glow with all the colors of the Go-Dragon Fighters. Within a mechanical compartment inside the titan's head, the five Go-Dragons stood at consoles.

"Alright, team, let's end this!" Go-Dragon Red said.

"Yeah!" The team cried out.

"YOU'LL NEVER WIN!" Malicolus roared as he lunged forward with the claws of his gauntlet. The blow took Go-Go-Gojira in the chest and the mechanical beast-titan stumbled backwards, while the five Go-Dragon Fighters hung onto their consoles as they struggled to stay upright.

"I don't think so, Malicolus!" Go-Dragon Fighter Red said as they straightened themselves again. Go-Go-Gojira charged the Dark Lord and, just as it drew near, it leapt upwards and drop-kicked the giant Dark Lord, forcing him back a few steps.

"WRETCHED TEENAGERS!" Malicolus shouted. Reaching his hand up to the sky, lightning flashed and suddenly a staff tipped by a burning eye of fire was in his hand. "FACE MY ULTIMATE ATTACK! DOOM LANCE!"

The staff began to charge its attack and the five Go-Dragon Fighters all shared a look.

"Are you ready, guys?" Go-Dragon Fighter Red asked and everyone nodded. "Right!"

Each of them placed a hand on the large buttons on their consoles, each of which was colored to match the individual Go-Dragon Fighter. As if sensing their touch, the spinal plates on the back of Go-Go-Gojira began to shine.

"Alright, Malicolus…" Go-Dragon Fighter Green said.

"We think it's about time…" Go-Dragon Fighter Blue said.

"That you should get out of here!" Go-Dragon Fighter Pink said.

"So, here's our ultimate attack!" Go-Dragon Fighter Yellow said.

"Altogether now!" Go-Dragon Red shouted.

"GO-GO-GOJIRA… GOTOMIC BREATH!"

Go-Go-Gojira's mouth opened just as the Doom Lance fired. Evil, fiery energy shot out only to meat the rainbow colored power of the Go-Dragons, the beams of power striking and pushing against one another. However, the fiery energy of Malicolus was slowly being pushed back.

"No… NO!" Malicolus cried out as his power was pushed towards him. As the waves of doom enveloped him, he shrieked, "THIS CANNOT BEEEEEEEEE-!"

The screen flashed a bright, white light and when it faded, Malicolus was no more. A cheer went up among the children around Calba as the season finale of Go-Dragon Fighters culminated before their eyes.

"That was awesome!" Selene squealed, hugging her little brother tightly to her. "Did you see, Calba? Did ya?"

"Yeah, saw," Calba said and he couldn't help but wince. He'd meant to say 'Yes, I saw', but managing that was proving to be difficult.

"Alright, I think that's enough television for one day," Miss Gamma said as the credits of the show rolled past the screen. There was a chorus of 'awwws' from the children, but those soon vanished as they quickly split off into their small groups to play. Calba rose by himself and walked along with Selene as they went over to one corner.

"Did you bring it?" Selene asked and Calba nodded. Glancing back to make sure Miss Gamma was distracted, he produced the Game Ingot, the new and improved version of the Game Brick, from under his shirt.

"Lets play!" Calba said quickly, eager to play with the new Tarot Arcana deck he'd made for himself. Still, he let Selene have the first turn, despite the fact that he'd brought the device himself.

"And what do we have here?" Miss Gamma asked the instant Selene had flipped open the Ingot. "Selene, you know the rules. No electronics during freeplay."

"I- I-..." Selene stuttered, staring up at Gamma with wide eyes.

"I brought it!" Calba shouted without thinking. "I brought it," he repeated as Gamma considered him, her mask of civility never once dropping.

"Alright," Gamma said, nodding. "Five minutes in the timeout corner for you then. Selene, do I need to send you there as well?"

Selene shook her head.

"Good," Gamma said, holding out one hand. "Now, you'll get your game back after class."

Selene gave up the Game Ingot and Calba trudged over to the time out corner, sitting on the stool there. It was hardly his first time being there, but he wasn't exactly a fan of being treated like a child.

Crossing his arms, he let out a huff as he watched the other kids-, the mortals playing. Selene approached him and he wondered if it was to apologize for getting them caught, but instead of saying anything she just sat down next to him and wrapped one arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

"Thanks for that," she said. "You're the best little brother in the world."

Calba let out a sigh, and turned his head away from her to hide the fact that he was blushing.

"... no problem…" He whispered.