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Hanging in the blackness of space, the Dark Aster looked like a cross between a battle cruiser and a fortress. Wherever the warship appeared, it brought fear. Whole planets had been evacuated based only on rumors the Dark Aster was approaching.
It wasn’t so feared because it was one of the most heavily armed warships ever created—which it was—but because it was the flagship of none other than Ronan. Some knew him as “Ronan the Murderer”; others as “Ronan the Butcher”; and still others as “Ronan the Warlord.” All these names were meant to slur Ronan for his cruelty and heartlessness—but they pleased him, and there was one name he preferred above all the others: “Ronan the Accuser.” Ronan looked upon the people of this galaxy and accused them of the greatest crime he could imagine—weakness.
Ronan was Kree, a member of an empire that had once dominated huge sections of the galaxy. He was tall and incredibly strong and dwarfed those around him. He was the perfect specimen even among the immensely powerful Kree, strong in body and in mind. His will was unchangeable, his principles absolute.
“They call me terrorist, radical, zealot, because I obey the ancient laws of my people, the Kree, and punish those who do not.” Ronan spoke as he rose from a cleansing pool of midnight black fluid. His attendants gathered around him to anoint his body with sacred powders and apply the mask of the Accuser to his face. “Because I do not forgive your people for taking the life of my father. And his father, and his father before him. A thousand years of war between us will not be forgotten!”
This speech was addressed to a prisoner, who knelt in the chamber, his upper body immobilized by a heavy steel collar around his neck. He could barely turn his head. The prisoner was an officer of the Nova Corps, the Xandar-based law enforcement agency that policed the sector. Fully dressed in his armor and the cowl of his office, Ronan turned to face the prisoner, who glared defiantly up at him.
“You can’t do this! Our government signed a peace treaty!” he protested.
Ronan despised the Nova Corps because they represented everything he hated about Xandarian civilization. The weakness, the cowardly use of diplomacy to avoid the righteous fury of war. The Nova Corps’ vision of law was nothing more than saving the weak from their own weakness. They were a sickness.
“My government knows no shame,” Ronan said. “The Xandarians and your culture are a disease.” He held out his hand and one of his attendants gave him the Cosmi Rod, a hammer more than a meter long that channeled Ronan’s power and was also the symbol of his Accuser status. The government of the Kree might not recognize him, but Kree tradition did—and Ronan cared more for tradition than for government.
“You will never rule Xandar,” the officer said.
“No,” Ronan said. “I will cure it!”
He brought the hammer down, and the galaxy was one step closer to being free of the Nova Corps’ disease.
Nebula, daughter of Thanos, had been waiting in the shadows while her associate administered justice. “Ronan,” she said now, “Korath has returned.”
Ronan met the Sakaaran in the Dark Aster ’s throne room, flanked by statues of the Accusers who had come before him. Also present were Nebula and Gamora, another of Thanos’s daughters. Both of them were on the Dark Aster as Thanos’s representatives and watchdogs over Ronan. He resented the fact that Thanos chose to keep watch over him, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Both Nebula and Gamora were pitiless assassins, who would do whatever Thanos commanded—and whatever Ronan commanded, as long as it agreed with their orders from their father. He listened as Korath reported his failure to obtain the Orb due to the interference of another.
“Master, he is a thief, an outlaw who calls himself Star-Lord,” Korath said. “But we have discovered he has an agreement to retrieve the Orb for an intermediary known as the Broker.”
“I promised Thanos I would retrieve the Orb for him,” Ronan murmured. “Only then will he destroy Xandar for me.”
He stood. “Nebula, go to Xandar and get me the Orb.”
“It will be my honor,” she said.
Stepping forward, Gamora said, “It will be your doom. If this happens again, you’ll be facing our father without his prize.”
“I’m a daughter of Thanos, just like you,” Nebula said. Ronan saw she was getting angry. Good, he thought. Let them hate each other. Then they will pay less attention to me.
“But I know Xandar,” Gamora said.
Nebula’s tone grew sharper. “Ronan has already decreed that I—”
“Do not speak for me,” Ronan commanded. He had to suffer the presence of Thanos’s daughters, but he insisted they would answer to him while they were on his ship.
He stepped up to Gamora and whispered, “You will not fail.”
Nebula watched, both furious at being passed over and smirking at her sister in the focus of Ronan’s unnerving gaze.
But Gamora looked Ronan right in the eye and said, “Have I ever?”