Well, I just got Heart of the Swarm and decided to write my own StarCraft fanfic. And here's part 1! Thanks to blackhole1 and Ragnarok666 and their stories, it's thanks to you guys I had the courage to write this, so kudos to you. Anyway, R&R, and, as per usual, the more reviews I get, the sooner I update. Enjoy!
Key for future chapters (excluding this one): Blah-telepathic talk
Blah-thoughts
blah- normal speech
Amon, last of the Xel'Naga, stood on his ship in the heart of the Void and surveyed his work.
Before him, inside an incubation tank, stood possibly his finest creation aside from the hybrid: a six year old Terran child with his genome. His own son. He had spent centuries perfecting the sequences that would create his perfect successor, a monument to the Fallen One, and his ultimate weapon.
He would be lying if he said he felt no attachment to him, much to his chagrin. He was meant to be the scourge of all life, the Destroyer of Worlds, not some caring father-figure. He placed one huge shadowy hand on the tank that held his progeny, and chuckled darkly.
"Soon, my son" he rumbled "soon you shall be loosed upon the sector, and the ground shall burn at your coming." The child stirred in the tank, and Amon chuckled again, satisfied with his progress.
He waved his hand, and a map of the Koprulu sector appeared before him.
It was divided into three distinct sections, and all were colour-coded. Purple showed Zerg space, red the Terran Dominion, and yellow the Protoss. He contemplated the map, his ancient mind planning where to send the child when he was ready. He considered sending him to a Terran family, so he could grow as a human would.
He discarded that idea, once his psionic abilities matured, he would be sent to the Ghost Program, and that would greatly hinder his plans. He couldn't send him to the Zerg, they would see through his facade in an instant, and then kill him.
He grew frustrated as a proper solution refused to reveal itself. He mulled over countless possibilities, probing each for weakness and flaw, and discarding each in turn as they produced unacceptable variations and potential loopholes.
Finally an idea came to him, so daring and audacious that he laughed at it, his deep voice booming across the Void. He scanned the space, and found exactly what he looking for: a human couple being sheltered by the Khalai Protoss, near the Nerazim homeworld of Shakuras.
"And why not?" he asked himself "The boy seems human, why not have him raised him by humans, and be taught by the Protoss? That way we…oh, what was that Terran saying? Ah yes, we 'kill two birds with one stone.'"
He dismissed the map with a flick of his hand and yelled "Duran!" summoning his servant to his side. Moments later, the man himself appeared beside him.
"You called Master?" he inquired, his head bowed in a gesture of submission.
Amon nodded and pointed to the incubation tank, saying "I have a plan for our young friend in there." He then went on to outline his daring idea, and how and, more importantly when, he wanted it to be executed, all the way down to the exact minute and smallest action. When he was done, Duran stood there with a look of awe and wonder on his face.
"Can you do it?" Amon asked, his voice harsh and unforgiving. Duran nodded, too stunned to speak.
"Good" the Fallen One said, reclining back in the throne that materialized behind him "see to it he is delivered without incident." Duran nodded and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.
Amon sighed and closed his eyes, basking in the glow of another plan set in motion. "And this time" he muttered to himself "nothing can stop me."
If Amon had a mouth, a savage grin would be plastered all over it, as his crimson eyes glowed ominously. However, unbeknownst to Amon or Duran, the boy in the tank was completely self-aware, and overheard the entire conversation, but understood little of it, only that it involved him in some way. Suddenly Amon's head snapped round to stare at the tank, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Ah, it seems our boy is awake." he chuckled, both gratified and slightly unnerved that he hadn't detected this sooner "Good."
He rose from his throne and once again strolled over to the tank. He reached out with his mind to touch the consciousness residing inside the glass container, using only a sliver of his full potential for fear of causing permanent damage to it.
He was surprised to find the mind strongly shielded, hidden behind many layers of mental defences which no psionic, Terran or Protoss, should be able to control. For Amon, however, they were little more than leaves in the wind of his power as he brushed past them effortlessly.
Can you hear me child?he demanded, his voice loud and harsh in the confines of such a small mind. He sensed the boy's terror as his thoughts gathered, and part of him was revelling in his fear.
Y-yes father, I hear you. he replied, his voice trembling and faltering in fear of Amon's voice, yet sounding almost as ancient as Amon himself. Amon suppressed a mental sneer at the amount of power he had over this pathetic creature, and he mentally kicked himself for that thought. He was his own flesh and blood, not some weak-blooded Terran beast!
Good, and I assume you heard my little plan for you? Amon asked, his voice smoother this time, more comforting.
Yes the child replied although I don't understand it. Amon nodded, although the child couldn't see it.
That is of no consequence he said all you need to know is you shall be leaving us to live with human parents, so you can be raised as a human should.
He sensed the doubt rising in his son's mind, so wasn't surprised when he asked Then why send me to be trained by Protoss?
Instead of speaking, Amon transmitted a series of memories of the Ghost Program directly into the child's mind in order to explain.
I…see he said eventually, resignation lacing his voice so does that mean you're here to seal my powers away? Amon sighed; it seemed his son had inherited his pessimism and cynicism.
No my son, I am not to seal away your powers, although they must be restrained until you are ready. I am here to prepare you for your journey. Part of him grimaced at the mere notion of talking to a child, yet another said 'who says tyrants can't be loving fathers?' His blood-red eyes scanned over the child's form, taking in everything from the unnaturally-broad shoulders, the elongated; almost Protoss-like head, to the black dreadlocks that draped across the boy's face, covering it like a veil.
I must limit some of your powers he said, caution evident in his tone if I do not, the Protoss will get suspicious, and they may find reason to execute you. He could feel the child's alarm radiating off him like a small star, and couldn't help but chuckle darkly.
Get on with it then the child snapped, his patience running dry. He cried out in pain as Amon forcefully sealed small parts of his mind with impenetrable mental barriers, slamming them into place with no consideration for the comfort of his patient. When he had finished, which took less than ten seconds, he withdrew from his son's mind and, feeling drained returned to his throne to sleep.
As his eyelids dropped, he took once last look at the tank, his life's work, and said "Goodnight my son."
"Goodnight Udin."
Well, how's THAT for an opening chapter! Ok, I know it seems weird that the grand antagonist of SC2 decided to play father-figure, but I decided to take a leaf from the H.I.V.E books by Mark Walden (if you like any of my stories, read those books, they are AWESOME) and have him creat a 'successor', and let him live out his life until he is ready for his father's plans. That should give you some idea of what's coming up next. Anyway, next chapter should be up soon, depends on the amount of reviews I get (wink*nudge*wink). Anywho's, I'll see you guys around. Ciao!
