“The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend”
~Aristoti, ancient Terran Philosopher
E WAS AN OUTCAST.
For years too innumerable to count, he had traveled the stars, always moving, always hiding, always looking behind.
For he was being hunted.
He had seen his brothers and sisters burn; he had seen them flayed, he had seen them die in the most barbaric ways imaginable. Once, he had even watched one of his brothers being crucified in front of a baying mob while soldiers jeered and took bets on how long it would take him to die.
The outcast could only look on and do nothing, for to reveal himself would mean instant betrayal and death.
What were their crimes in the eyes of their compatriots?
They were different, to some an aberration.. devils, witches.. unnatural.
Man is an ugly creature.
An academic once said that Humanity was only a few meals away from his barbarian roots. If normal life is disrupted and hardship steps in. Despite thousands of years of civilisation, enlightenment, glory and advances, we would revert to base creatures in an instant.
It is a wonder that our race has survived for so long.
So if a person is different, or perceived as different; our civilised brains will always always fall back to the little brain in its head, the cerebellum, he ancient core of our brain we used when we first crawled out of the primeval swamps and began to climb trees.
When one cannot explain something logically, his base instincts take over and something that is not the norm, something that does not fit the time or place is dealt with through ignorance and fear.
Death usually follows.
Morthen Stroms had been hunted down through the Millennia by men on horses, or with dogs and other wild beasts. He had been chased across land, sea and air and out into the stars and beyond and he had always managed to stay one step ahead, one breath away from discovery or capture.
They had formed Special units or groups to find him and his kin and wipe out their existence.
Groups like The Inquisition.
He had seen off the Fraternities and the Dominicans, The Innocent Pope and later Torquemada, the high-and-mighty. He had survived the Narsay extermination camps and escaped the Corporation War purges. He had fought the Thunder warriors, evaded the assassins, he had survived them all, and all of them had failed to judge him.
And still he faced them, here in the time of The Emperor of Mankind, ruler of a billion planets.
But now things had changed.
The latest batch of psychopathic zealots put the ancients and their methods to shame. These so-called brave and loyal servants of the Emperor make the Spaniards and the Narsay’s look like small children at play.
Perhaps his days were now numbered?
But the passion within him still burned brightly and his infinite strength still shone through. He was not ready to give up yet, not after so long. He believed that he still lived for a purpose, and although their numbers had dwindled, he knew that he still had brothers and sisters out there amongst the stars.
One day, he knew that they would all meet again. One day they would sit at the feet of their father and a new dawn of enlightenment will begin and Mankind’s true future will be revealed.
Until that time he would keep running and hiding, and he would agitate, harass and bring enlightenment to the subjugated and the oppressed, and he would bring a glimmer of light and hope to small corners of this dark Imperium.
It was, after all, his destiny…
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