Treason
The bridge of the Bucephalus was as opulent as ever. And yet Matt preferred the Hyperion.
He also preferred it to the Griffin-class starship that was now entering warp space, en route to Tarsonis. A planet that the Hyperion knew well. That he knew well, and memory wipes aside, Nova Terra knew well. Part of him wished he was on his way to the former Confederate capital with her. To be on the frontline of quashing the Defenders of Man. And yet the other part was glad that he didn't have to see that world again.
"Admiral Horner."
That he didn't have to see the testament to Arcturus Mengsk's evil once more.
"Emperor."
He didn't know if Valerian could be counted in that testament as well. But regardless, Valerian was part of the reason why he wished he was onboard his old ship. The Hyperion was home. On the Hyperion, he only had to deal with Emperor Valerian through a viewscreen, and if he was lucky, a few dozen lightyears of distance.
"Think she's up to it?"
He kept looking out into the dark of space, even as Valerian walked up beside him. 'She,' of course, being Agent X41822N. And the answer being…
"I don't know."
Valerian glanced at him. "That's not exactly a glowing appraisal."
"The Fleet is one branch of the Dominion. Groups like the Ghost Program are…" He swallowed. "Something else."
"And you have no opinion on that?"
Matt glanced at him. "I'm a soldier, Sir. You're not meant to ask for my opinion on these kinds of matters."
"Indulge me."
Matt returned his gaze to space. Was Valerian testing him, or did he actually care what he thought? And if the latter, why did he expect a good answer? He knew Nova Terra more through reputation than personal contact, and it didn't help that one of those personal contacts had been a ploy by her to get him to turn on Tosh, and another contact had resulted in Jim being taken captive. From the outside, Nova Terra was a loyal Ghost who may or may not be involved with the Defenders of Man. Who may or may not be the next Sarah Kerrigan – liberated by a rebel group bent on overthrowing the dominant terran power in the sector in the midst of the zerg turning up on outer colony worlds. Only next step was for her to become the next Queen of Blades.
"I can't comment Sir."
Valerian raised an eyebrow. "Can't? Or won't?"
"It's not my place to say. And I don't know Agent X41822N well enough to speculate as to the nature of her character or loyalties."
"So she could be a traitor."
Matt stood up straight. "It's possible."
"Hmm."
Valerian fell silent. And Matt pressed his luck, asking, "what?"
"Traitors," Valerian said. "Empires are built on them, are they not?"
"I don't follow."
"My father…" Valerian trailed off, his eyes darkening for a moment. "My father, you could say, was a traitor to the Terran Confederacy. A former marine and prospector turned conqueror."
Matt stiffened. "You could say that."
"You, in turn, could be said to have betrayed him alongside Commander Raynor at Tarsonis."
"We didn't-"
"And I, in turn, betrayed my father by throwing in my lot with your rebel band," continued the emperor, a twinkle in his eye. "Oh yes, history will record that it was the Queen of Blades who overthrew my father, but history is already well aware that I was at Korhal to pick up the pieces. And I'd already done a bit of…breaking, of my own, beforehand."
Matt conceded the point, if not the line of inquiry. "So what's your belief?" Matt asked. "Is Nova's hypothetical capacity for betrayal a boon? That she'll get things done? Or that she's a liability and could be the next big conqueror."
"Terra is no conqueror," Valerian said. "I think we both know that. Conquerors know what to do after slaying their opponents. Terra's greatest strength is the ability to do the slaying and leave while the pieces are still falling."
"That doesn't rule out treason."
"No," Valerian mused. "I suppose it doesn't."
An uneasy silence fell over the bridge, and Matt once more glanced out into space. Dark, cold, and empty. Uncaring of the little things that scurried amongst the stars. Whether it be an uneasy admiral, or the sound of a servo-servant entering the room, bringing two glasses of wine on a tray with it.
"Well then," Valerian said, picking up one of the glasses. "Here's to traitors."
Matt took the glass, not bothering to protest that he was on duty. He knew when to toe the line.
"To traitors," he murmured, pouring the bitter liquid down his throat. Wishing Jim was here. Hoping that Nova was still on their side. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, the cycle of treason, destruction, and the birth of empires had been broken.
Yet again he glanced out into space.
It had no answers for him.