Excavatious Excision
Entering the galaxy proper, and along the scanned sectors, we approach the artifact. As we get closer, I can feel my power grow, my connection tugging at every piece of existence tighten. Of course, before we attempt retrieval there is to be yet another feast and presentation for the followers of the Prophecy, collected from thousands of galaxies. Once their festivities have concluded, it is finally time to acquire this substantial artifact.
I stand at the precipice of the hangar bay, only a weak force-field separates myself and the vacuum of space. I look down upon a giant cluster of indiscriminate materials gathered by the artifact’s gravitational pull, here my objective awaits. Heavy, impossibly so. The excavation equipment goes first, calibrated through years of testing on smaller artifacts, it faces its first true trial. I follow to test my powers, to assess and aid if I am able. At this proximity, however, my focus is primed upon the core of the lone isolated planetary-mass object on the outskirts of this old galaxy. I step into emptiness, and breathe in the void. It is refreshing, freeing. On the tail of these mechanations. They make landfall and begin to burrow. I hover within this lackadaisical magnetic atmosphere briefly before I land, feeling the haphazard conglomerate beneath me. Composed of countless debris accumulated over the course of eons. I kneel down, and place my hand upon the vagrant soil that has been brought together by the artifact. I lose myself in it. What is it saying to me in its power?
Breaking my concentration, I am contacted. The Prophets, the extraction continues deeper, but has begun to falter. Freeing myself of my reverie, I take to the sky, and drop down into the pit. Passing by a multitude of mashed machines, I reach the few that maintain their mining. I use my powers to aid their structure where I can, though it eventually becomes evident that they are simply not up to the task. This requires my power. This artifact is of me, it is for me, I can see it through the stratum. When the final machine breaks down due to gravitational proximity, I forgo restraint. Emboldened by it adding its power to mine, I bore into the condensed layers, gouging crag and boulder out of my path before I finally reach it: The Artifact. I excise it from its deep burrow, floating it briefly in front of me. The gravity this artifact is giving off… it’s old. That must be why it isn’t affecting the fabric of the universe how it should.
There is a history within it unlike anything that I have ever experienced. This aged galaxy has housed it for so long, and yet its origins are wholly mundane. It simply came into existence alongside everything else. I cannot break its anomaly, though I can harness its power. As if there is a universe at my fingertips, no longer spread across nigh-infinite space. Here. Understanding paired with the unknowable, presenting to me as pure power. A whole new realm of power to access. I draw the small black spherical orb into my palm, and grasp it. Flooded with ancient power previously unattainable, I am still no closer to insight. I feel the shell of earth fall away from my surroundings, scattered back into the ether, shedding its accumulation from this galaxy. While it is in my hold, I am intimately aware of the history it has bore witness to. Planets and stars exploding and colliding. Simple lives experienced and expired in a cosmic unfolding. All of which now bring me here, back. Another communication stirs me. The Prophets. Right, I am here, holding the artifact. I respond, yes, the artifact is here, and in my possession. They send down a small cube, and I offer it protection. I open the cube, and place the sphere within, locking it away. Safely. For transport. I can still feel it within, but this universe cannot.
I glide back to the Prophet’s ship, and entrust it in their care. As if time is material, they inform me that they had been unable to contact me for some of it. To them, I had been discharging immense gravitational waves and wholly unresponsive. I see no need to respond to their discussion. I state that they have the artifact in their possession, this galaxy has served its purpose, and we must attain the next. Unfortunately, they do not know where it is, and beyond that, have no way of leaving this galaxy until the next Galactic Canon is built. While they may require the burden of time to achieve their next step, I do not. I couldn’t feel it before, but now that I have encountered it… I sense more, beyond this galaxy. Towards the outwards edge of the universe, further away from the center – and closing in, yet still out of reach. I give them the coordinates of the closest.
It seems the only hindrance now is the construction of that Canon, and subsequently the rules of The Network. This staunch galaxy and those small lives who claim much of it refuse their resources. I ascribe to no such code, and know what i must do to attain the power and breadth of another artifact. I return to my craft, and leave The Prophets, to excise those in self-proclaimed power. This galaxy and those in it will fall to my power or cease to impede my objective. The Network can mine cosmic rubble without having to contemplate transitory proclamations of dominion over space.
GuNNhead 
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