Distant Cathartic

Distant Cathartic II (Body 1)

THE Monks of Charity were gathered in congress on Joshua, the small planet where Osiris' black city fell from the stars. They were a powerful group of religious mystics, dedicated to the worship of God and the protection of the faithful. Praying in a circle, the Monks asked God to purge the wrath of Osiris from the ruins of his final attack.

Athlon decided that Joshua was where he would begin his quest to offer help to all those who had survived the onslaught of the Army of Death. Appearing in a long white streak in the heavens, Athlon descended on the planet, seeking the Monks to ask what could be done.

Upon seeing the Android, the Monks huddled, begging God to deliver them from the returning evil of Osiris. They did not know that Athlon had simply been Osiris' captive, and saw his return as a sign that their trials were not over. Fear penetrated the minds of the Monks, and they performed a special ceremony to summon the protection of God. As Athlon touched down on Joshua, the sky thundered with a sudden storm, and lightning struck the ground near the bewildered Android.

High above the planet, a massive vessel appeared, and a booming voice came down through the atmosphere and echoed off the Northern mountains. The Monks threw their hoods off their heads, and turned their faces upwards to receive the words of God.

God spoke of the power of the Monk's faith, and agreed to smite the demonic forces of Osiris. God promised to spare the Monks from the rage of the invader, and with another clap of thunder, a brilliant flash of lightning struck Athlon, erasing him from the face of Joshua.

Athlon fell to the floor of the vessel, stunned by his sudden transport. The voice continued, accusing Athlon of Osiris' terrible crimes. Stating that Athlon had no faith, and worse had attempted to slaughter the faithful flock of the Lord Shepard, God sentenced Athlon to damnation.

Athlon rose to his feet and rushed for the door at the end of the narrow room he was in. Immediately, blue electricity arced from the ceiling, pinning Athlon to the ground. He felt the electricity pierce his body, and lift him into the air before slamming him against the back wall of the room, holding him motionless in place.

The engines of the massive ship engaged, and the craft began to move. After a few moments, the door opened, and Athlon saw a hulking figure enter. In the flickering light of the electricity, Athlon saw that the figure belonged to a large man, his face covered in patches of beard and deep scars. He was dressed in all white, a button down shirt and a tie with matching slacks. An enormous belly spilled over his waist.

The man flashed a wide, toothy grin, and approached Athlon. He looked the Android over, and let out a low whistle. The robot was perfect.

Athlon tried to speak, but found he had lost control over most motor function. The man licked his lips and laughed a high-pitched laugh at the struggling Android. He slapped one hand against his thigh, and was gone from the room as quickly as he had arrived.

A program began to hack Athlon's brain. It was powerful, but crude, and Athlon immediately wrote some software to counter it. He used a simulation application to create an image of his actual mind, and segregated the invasive program to an isolated loop, tricking the program into thinking it had successfully gained control. Athlon shut down his external life signs. As his body went limp, and his eyes went dark, Athlon retreated into his head. Behind the isolation loop, Athlon could continue working without being detected.

Athlon desperately needed answers. Inside his dormant shell, he set to work, remotely scanning the ship's systems and hacking it's databanks. It was surprisingly easy to slip into the ship's logs: it was a powerful craft, but no one had bothered to protect against internal hacking. It would have seemed foolish, but Athlon sensed that the lack of specified security was rooted more in arrogance.

The ship was called The Maelstrom, and it was owned and under the command of one Boris Gregory Bedlam. The ship's records contained a treasure trove of information, a massive collection of data and history going back millions of years. Knowing that if he was detected the ship would lock him out completely, Athlon downloaded the entire contents into his own archives, and disconnected from the ship's digi-structure.

The Maelstrom's records told an incredible story. Boris came from humble beginnings, born to poor parents millions of years ago. In a desperate attempt to escape the poverty that plagued his surroundings, Boris was seduced by crime. Starting in the streets, he made a name for himself through fearless dedication to wealth. Gifted with an immense intellect, he quickly carved out a ghetto kingdom with himself as king. His greed knew no bounds, and it wasn't long before he acquired a ship and left his birthplace in search of greater riches.

For millennia, Boris was a scourge on the Dopinephrine Galaxy. He established vast networks to flood entire sectors with drugs from distant worlds. He ran the largest prostitution ring in history, touching thousands of planets, and building a fortune that could buy him anything he could imagine. Still it wasn't enough.

Many died on Boris' path to ultimate wealth. He laid waste to entire races in order to claim the rare elements found on only a handful of planets. Boris built a fleet of advanced ships to keep the flow of excessive wealth moving to his criminal empire. Armies were built to fight the kingpin, but no force could match the endless resources Boris had hoarded away. Law enforcement agencies from across the stars united in a desperate attempt to end Boris' reign, but a hatred for all who wished to knock him from his lofty throne boiled deep in Boris, and he attacked all who opposed him, killing untold millions in a bloodthirsty war against the established order of the galaxy.

Eventually, with all challengers laid to waste, Boris found that he was unsatisfied with his riches. He had everything he could ever want, but Boris' greed cried for more. Power became his highest goal. Boris retired to his tower to contemplate the nature of power in private.

Ruling was not enough. Boris had the muscle to take any nation he desired with swift military defeat, but conquering a population and establishing himself as ruler offered no real power in Boris' mind. The people would not welcome him, and surely whispers of discontent would reach his ears. History taught Boris that conquerors often sank their wealth into endless attempts to crush rebellions and uprisings, keeping them from fully controlling a truly unified citizenry.

It would take something much bigger to satisfy Boris. It was only after years of meditation that an idea began to glow in his mind. He fostered the idea like a weak ember, coaxing it to grow, feeding it in an effort to light the fire that would power the forge of his ambition.

The idea was beautiful. Complex yet elegant, Boris came to believe he had found a way to ascend to untouchable power. He would not claim territory, or raise a new banner over an old one; instead, Boris would make billions come to him and ask to be dominated. His people wouldn't stir and plot against him; they would beg for him to rule them, and they would surrender everything, even their own families, in an attempt to please him. Boris would make the galaxy kneel before him, and offer him control over their lives, their desires, even their thoughts.

Boris set to work, gathering the fears of mortals and offering a way to escape them. Holy texts were drafted, offering stories of the genesis of life, and its required dedication to a fictional creator. Boris wrote dozens of books, each with a version of the same god ruling from the distant past, watching over all with spiritual authority. He established the concept of a supreme evil; a threat of everlasting punishment in the pit of Lucifer, an unthinkable fate awaiting anyone who dared defy their Savior, or failed to follow his every demand.

Boris set himself as Lord of All, encouraging each group of believers to inflict their faith with righteousness over others. Scores of peoples were given a slightly altered version of the grand lie, each made to see themselves as the chosen followers of God, each with a moral imperative to subjugate their fellow beings. Boris promoted intolerance, making victims of homosexuals, women, and selected ethnic groups. War spread through the galaxy faster than ever before, with fool fighting fool in the name of a holy dictator.

Religion had been born. Boris fine-tuned his messages, maximizing the hate between groups, forcing billions of followers to demonize billions more of their former brothers and sisters. The power of this religion came from hate, and Boris had mastered the art of hatred.