A/N: Utterly random. Standard disclaimer: I don't own Starcraft/any of these people.
One of Those Days
Jim Raynor was having a sort of awkward day. Not awkward as in particularly weird or embarrassing, but rather, fraught with long, awkward stretches of silence. Like this one. Tension filled the air, and not the sexy kind. The bridge was utterly quiet except for the meditative hum of engines and the faint murmur of voices from the cantina.
He stood in front of a screen, facing down a tall, imposing Protoss. It was a tad difficult to tell with them, but this one seemed to perpetually wear a frown.
See, Jim didn't really have a problem with Executor Selendis, and she spoke to him with more courtesy than half his men did, but what can a guy say to a war-hungry alien commander who's issued an ultimatum such as slaughter civilians or face me in glorious combat? It was the sort of thing that threw a wrench into conversations.
It didn't help that the reason he was chatting Selendis up in the first place—the stoic and extremely not-verbose Dark Templar standing next to him—created just as much awkwardness; it didn't take a telepath to notice the female Executor was one of those who didn't like her Nerazim brethren much at all. She stared at him with poorly concealed disdain, and the Dark Templar, Juvius, stared back in a decidedly unimpressed manner.
"So," Jim said, clearing his throat. "You mind if Juvi here catches a ride with you guys?"
"Juvi" looked at him sideways, but refrained from commenting.
"Of course," Selendis said, very slowly. "If it is necessary, we will give the Dark Templar transport to Shakuras. Where did you find him?"
"Oh, he followed us home. Matt wanted to keep him."
"Sir," Commander Horner muttered in protest from his position just off-screen, where he had taken to hiding from Mira Han's call-ins.
More silence, from all parties. A pity; Jim thought that one, in honor of Tychus Finley, was a good one. It wasn't because Protoss couldn't appreciate his humor either; Fenix, at the very least, had proven to be an exception. Jim really missed the guy. The zealous Dragoon would have gotten along famously with the equally battle-hungry Selendis, and maybe he could've negotiated this situation without all of these staring contests.
Jim sighed. "We picked him up on a little hunk of a moon, swimming up to the waist with dead Zerg. I'd drop him off home myself, but the Hyperion's undergoing some repairs, so warp jumps are out of the picture for a while. Figure it'd be faster if you took him."
"And you could not wait until your repairs are finished?"
Jim ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. He really needed a drink, and maybe a hammer with Tassadar's name on it to pound into the obstinate, psionically-charged heads of these people that there was a war going on, and they needed to get over their damn prejudice already. If little things like transport ate up half of their lifespans, they would all be here till Zeratul's prophecy came true.
"Look, I get that you might not get along with him. There's plenty of folk I'd like to toss right out my airlock, but for the sake of—"
"I simply questioned whether it was necessary," said Selendis, tone cold.
Jim glanced over at Juvius. Like most Dark Templar, he was armored and robed mostly in black and—for a reason Jim still couldn't figure out—wearing a mask over his nonexistent mouth. He stood extremely still, with not even a quiver from his severed nerve appendages. Only his glowing eyes would blink occasionally; they betrayed no emotion either.
"It's necessary, Selendis, because he's hurt and my medics obviously don't have a clue. Cut the guy some slack, won't you? He cleaned out more Zerg today than my mama bedbugs from my room as a kid."
Juvius's gaze went to the ground. Jim sighed apologetically. He knew the Dark Templar had not wished for his weakness to be known, but it was kinda hard to ignore, with subtle but definitely present splatters of blue blood on the recently cleaned floor.
Selendis regarded him with yet more silence, which Jim decidedly had enough of.
"Right, I'm parking Hyperion over. I'll bring him to you myself." And you'll let him onboard like the wise, century-old beings you are, and not act like little kids barring others from their exclusive hopscotch club.
He nodded to Matt, who pulled their flagship battlecruiser up alongside the gleaming golden hull of Selendis's Carrier. Then, like a stern parent, Jim motioned Juvius over to the door. It opened to the absurdly shiny halls of the Protoss ship.
"Off you go then," said Jim. "You kids play nice now."
Juvius nodded to him, said something in the Protoss language involving Adun, and then walked right on through as smoothly as you please, giving absolutely no indication he'd been chewed on by Zerg. The door closed. Selendis said something in the Protoss language involving Adun, too. Then, the enormous Carrier shimmered, and blinked out of existence.
"Think they got him home safely?" said Matt.
"I think it's safe to say they no longer chuck Dark Templar out into space, but I remember when they would. If you think about it, it's been pretty progressive, considering it's a millennia-old prejudice. And—"
Suddenly, one of the sensors began beeping. Matt went to look at it and then stopped and gaped.
"What is it now?"
"Well…you might want to look out the window, sir."
He did, and blinked at the massive ship next to them. It dwarfed the Hyperion and even the Carrier that had just left. It was sort of like that old Earth legend, a flying saucer, except it was obviously a work of art as much as a machine of war, sleek and golden and pulsing with all sorts of pretty blue lights. Jim thought he even recognized this particular Mothership—he had seen it before in that vision.
"Sir, we're being hailed."
"Well, patch 'em through. Let's see what they want this time."
The screen flickered back into life. "En Taro Tassadar, Jim Raynor."
He did a double-take. "Artanis?"
"It is good to see you once more, old friend."
Jim craned his head a little. The last time he'd seen Artanis, the Praetor was dressed, well, minimally. That obviously wasn't the case now. He wore ornate armor the same colors as the Mothership, all over a black cloak that made him look...grown-up was the only way to describe it. Damn. Jim was really getting on in the years if he thought Artanis was young. Which he was, by Protoss standards, but still.
"Nice hat. You get a promotion or something?"
"I have been appointed Hierarch since last we met. How did you know?"
"Wild guess," said Jim. He remembered now. Shiny Mothership, shiny armor. It was the same getup Artanis would be in, in the Overmind's vision when the Protoss made their last stand. If Sarah was dead.
The future was close now, and there wasn't a reminder clearer than this one.
"Well then. What's up? I don't suppose you came all this way just to say hello."
"We are searching for a Dark Templar whose position we last tracked here. He bears important information regarding—"
"Right. You just missed him. We sent him off with Selendis two minutes ago. She didn't seem too happy about it."
Artanis shrugged his shoulders in a rather human gesture. "Long have the Protoss clung to old beliefs, even when new times betray them. Even when darkness threatens to swallow us all. It will take more leaders than just myself, and time, to break us of this habit."
Speaking of darkness swallowing all of them up, Jim wondered if Artanis knew about the prophecy yet, or that his hated enemy, Sarah Kerrigan, was in the custody of the Raiders and currently undergoing tests to determine how much human was in her. He didn't want to bring it up. He'd had enough awkward conversations for one day.
"I thank you for your service to our people, as always. And I have heard of the difficult choice set before you when last you encountered Executor Selendis. And I am sorry for it."
And that was one of the topics he was hoping to avoid. Jim let out another heavy sigh. "Yeah, well, the sooner we get our respective messes cleaned up, the sooner people like me can retire and people like Matt can take over and populate the galaxy with adorable children who've never known war."
The Hierarch tilted his head. "Is all well, Commander Raynor?"
That was a funny question 'cause Jim just didn't know. He didn't know if the girl he loved was still the girl he loved, or how much of her had survived. He didn't know what their next move was; the future was more unclear than ever, and the possibility of them all dying was still certainly there.
Or maybe he was just getting old. His tolerance level for crap had certainly lowered.
"I'm doing just fine, Artanis. You take care of yourself now, eh? Try not to, say, die in that fancy ol' ship of yours against a bunch of Mutalisks, or anything like that."
Artanis said something in the Protoss language involving Adun, though he repeated right after, "Adun watch over you." See, translating wasn't that difficult.
They exchanged some last pleasantries before the Hierarch signed off, and the Mothership shimmered away in a space-bending flicker.
"Well that was a trip down memory lane," Jim declared, heading toward the hall. "I'm gonna get a drink. A friend of mine just got promoted, after all."
"Are you paying a visit to Kerrigan afterwards?" said Matt.
"She being stubborn still?"
"According to Valerian, yes, extremely."
"Then yeah. It's time we've all stopped running away and hiding in the past."
He was going to get stupendously drunk just this one last time. Then, there was work to be done, and probably many more awkward conversations to be had.
the end/ concluded stupendously drunk at the catina
A/N: This takes place between Wings of Liberty and Heart of the Swarm, as you might've guessed. I can't believe there's another freaking three years before Legacy of the Void. That and the Hobbit movies. Augh, fictional universes! *shakes fist*