YAY! First actual Fanfic that I decided to post. I have some other stuff at fictionpress if y'all are interested. This puppy here is just yer generic StarCraft fic... it's slow at first but I promise all you action fans out there that it'll pick up in future chapters... that is if anybody likes it enough to want more.
StarCraft: Stellar Drift
by The Chaz Man
Part One: Discovery
"Hurry it up with that optic cable, Rayle, we're already late as it is," Blake spoke into the Remora's comm system. He sat back in his chair and waited for the reply from below. Captain Victor Blake of the UTD Remora was a bit larger than most other Terrans. He came from a long line of massive ancestors, dating all the way back to pre-WWIII on Earth. Blake, however, had been born on the planet Tarsonis, a few decades after the passengers of the Nagglfar awoke to find themselves stranded. In fact, he had been born on the very day that the first sub-warp engines were tested and successfully launched into deep space. His father had died in service of the Confederacy when Victor was twelve, and years later after his mother had died, he made his way up the military ladder until he became captain of the vessel he was on now. A salvage ship, the Remora had mostly been cobbled together from bits and pieces found in the wreckage of other ships, and break down's were frequent. Right now, the current problem was a damaged viewscreen. His chief engineer, Donald Rayle, was down in the guts of the ship's primary systems trying to hook it back up. Don was little more than a kid. A nineteen year-old with the mind of a genius, to be precise. He had a grasp on technology far greater than Blake himself could ever hope for. He had graduated from the Dominion Engineering Academy not five weeks ago and at the top of his class at that. The kid had a natural knack for machines, and being the Remora was so prone to breakdowns, Blake had immediately requested that he be assigned to his ship, even though he knew his ship was way down on the list. For some reason, the kid hadn't wanted one of those prestigious positions as chief engineer of a Battlecruiser, and he quickly accepted Blake's offer. The rest of the crew hounded over him like older siblings, always teaching and trying to protect him, and for some reason he had taken to Blake as a role model. It had always made Blake uncomfortable to have someone look up to him like that kid did.
"It's good to go, skipper, try it now," Rayle's voice crackled over the comm. Blake flipped the switch next to his chair, and the viewscreen sputtered to life.
"About time," Blake mumbled. He flipped on the full comm system and let his voice ring through the entire ship. "Ok, ladies, everybody back to the bridge, Rayle has the viewscreen working and we can get back under way." He waited a few moments before the comm system crackled back at him.
"Cap, this is Grady. We're gonna be here for a little longer, we just lost one of the cooling units on the primary engine core," the voice said. That was Lt. Feth Grady, second in command of the Remora. Feth had been born almost immediately after the colony founded on Moria by the passengers of the Argo had made contact with the intra-solar expeditions of the Tarsonian colonists, making him just a few days younger than Blake.
"Crap," Blake said. "Rayle, you reading this?"
"Yeah, skipper," Rayle said over the comm, "Give me about and hour and a half, and it'll be good as new." Blake switched off the viewscreen.
"I'm counting on it, Rayle." He said. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting them rest for the first time in hours. It felt like longer than that. The shipment they were hauling was of used Vespene Gas traces. Not very useful to anyone but the scientific stations on Korhal, the United Terran Dominion throne world. The gas traces would undergo experimentation to help develop new weapons or uses for the raw substance itself. The last shipment had been late, and his superiors had told him that if he screwed up again he'd lose his ship. Blake didn't know what he'd do without a ship under his care. He lived for space. It had always been his dream to fly off into the darkness of some unexplored region of space and discover some long forgotten secrets of the universe, but from the looks of it, the only thing he was going to discover was more system glitches. The comm beeped again. Blake sighed and flipped it on.
"Blake here."
"Hey, sugah," the voice said. It was Ensign Melinda Solaris, both the medic and the pilot for the Remora. Blake had known her since childhood, and he always had a soft spot in his heart for her. When she had been transferred onto his ship, he had almost requested a transfer of his own, thinking that her presence would hamper his ability to think clearly. He had soon learned that if anything, her being on board kept him on his toes even more.
"Yeah, Melinda, go ahead"
"Why don't you come down to the mess hall and take a break? Ah had Whisker make you some special grub," came the answer.
"Sorry, Mel. I've got to stay here in case Rayle gets done with the cooling unit ahead of schedule," he said. The comm crackled for a moment, and then Melinda spoke again.
"Rayle is going to be in the primary engine housing for another hour and a half no matter what; it takes him that long just to open it and then seal it back up again when he's done. You have plenty of time, sugah," Blake smiled and drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. She was a very persuasive woman.
"All right, Mel. I'm on my way." He turned off the comm, and took one last look out the port window into deep space before levering himself out of the surprisingly comfortable chair and striding to the doorway at the back of the bridge that led to the rest of the ship.
Blake entered into the mess hall to find Melinda and Grady sitting at the table, Grady with the usual toothpick sticking from his mouth and a deck of cards in his hands. Grady was not short, but he wasn't considered tall by anyone's standards either. He did however, have an endless flexibility of his hands, probably from all those years of running illegal gambling rings on Dominion Battlecruisers, one of which had almost gotten him court-martialed. Blake had requested that he be put under his charge instead of being expelled from the military, although it wasn't his gambling skills he was interested in. Grady had a notorious reputation for his ability to acquire anything that was needed, from power coils and lengths of wire to a bottle of 1955 Earth-brewed wine to a pack of cigarettes. If it existed, Feth Grady could get it for you, for a small fee, of course. Melinda was another story. She was almost as tall as Blake, with a slim build and blonde hair that came down to her shoulders and then curled up to frame her smooth face and her startling green eyes. It seemed to Blake that Melinda became more beautiful every time he saw her. He could remember growing up in the same neighborhood as her, and the first time they met, back when they were just kids, about nine or ten. Blake had helped Melinda to her feet after she had fallen off a slide at a nearby playground. After that, they had been inseparable all the way through college and on until Blake had gone off to enlist. Melinda had followed him shortly afterwards, and they did not see each other until seven months ago, when Arcturus Mengsk announced the re-installment of the United Terran Dominion, and had begun rebuilding his once glorious empire. Blake and his crew, abandoned by all sides and left to fend for themselves, had been some of the first to rally to his banner. Soon after, Blake lost his navigator in a skirmish with some Zerg Mutalisks, and he requested a replacement pilot to keep his ship running. Two days later a drop pod met the Remora just outside of the Korhal system, with his replacement pilot, Melinda Solaris.
"Hey, Cap, what's up?" Grady said as he bridged the cards against the table, "How soon 'till Don gets that engine running?" Blake pulled a chair up to the table and sat in it.
"Sooner if you get down there and help him, Feth," he said. Grady smiled as he slipped the cards somewhere into the sleeve of his long brown leather coat, with countless other decks of cards, dice, more illegal gambling devices than most other people knew existed, along with as many as a dozen small knives designed for throwing. Grady was an exceptional shot.
"Aright, Cap, I know when I'm not wanted-"he shot a glance at Melinda, "I think I can keep Don entertained until he gets done working." With that, he strolled out of the room. Blake turned back to Melinda after he had gone, only to have her sit herself down in his lap before he could speak.
"Well hello there, sugah," she said with her thick southern-Earth accent. She was descended from occupants of the old United States, where she claimed that everyone talked like she does, or at least they used to, until WWIII had destroyed most of that part of the world with nuclear weapons.
"Hello, pretty lady," Blake said as he kissed her lightly on her full lips. "So what's this special food you had Whisker make?"
"Eat it and find out, Vic!" a voice said as the door to the kitchen was pushed open by a gray-haired man carrying a large round tray. Sgt. Jasin Wyles, the only enlisted man on the ship besides Rayle, was of average height and a firm build, despite his age. The long white beard he wore had earned him the title of Whisker. He was the ship's cook, and the best one in the Koprulu sector. He also had the honor of being the only Terran in the sector who was one of the original passengers of the Long Sleep. A captive aboard the Nagglfar, Whisker had been part of numerous genetic experiments at the hands of the ATLAS computer, and the result was a badly damaged set of DNA. The altered state kept reproducing cells long after his body should have stopped regenerating lost or damaged tissue. In short, the tampering had increased his lifespan indefinitely. The Confederacy had taken interest in Whisker when they learned of his 'gift', and assigned him to one of their most secret labs for study and experimentation. Whisker never told anyone his actual age, but from Blake's best estimates, he was at least two hundred years old.
"I haven't made this since I left Earth, and I was hoping I could find somebody who would try it," he said as he set the tray down on the table in front of Blake. On it was a large round piece of cooked bread with what looked like melted cheese and some kind of sauce all mixed together with small bits of meat and some kind of vegetable chunks.
"Ah told him that you'd be the first to try it, sugah," Melinda said grinning widely. Blake's eyebrows rose as he studied the pastry before him.
"Thanks, babe," he said slowly, "What is it, Whisker?" Whisker pulled out a small sharp disk attached to a handle and began to cut the pastry into triangle shaped sections.
"It's called a pizza, an old Italian food. It was considered to be one of the greatest delicacies of good ol' Terra Prime. Or at least it was when I left," he added with a chuckle. He handed a slice of the pizza to Blake and another to Melinda before taking one himself. "Well, what're you waiting for? It's supposed to be served hot, y'know!" Whisker said as he took a big bite out of the end of his piece. Blake looked at Melinda pleadingly, only to see her smile and take a bite herself. Cautiously, he raised the steaming pizza to his mouth and took a bite off the end. It was hot, for one thing. He wasn't particularly fond of the green peppers that were on it, but other than that it wasn't half bad. He was about to compliment Whisker on his newest culinary creation when the proximity alarm began blaring from the ship's loudspeakers.
"Warning! Unknown object two hundred meters off the port bow! Impact in three seconds!" Blake dropped the pizza to the table and grabbed a hold as the ship gave a lurch to one side; the ship's autopilot attempting to avoid the object, but it was too late. Blake was thrown backwards to the floor as the ship suddenly jerked to one side. His head smashed against the bulkhead and his vision blurred for a moment. He opened his eyes to see Melinda sprawled on the floor next to him, a thin trickle of blood running down the side of her face. He couldn't see Whisker anywhere. Silently, Blake took stock of his own injuries. His head hurt, but that was to be expected from being slammed against a wall. His right shoulder was bothering him as well. Might just be bruised, Blake thought, but when he tried to move it without success, he guessed that it was broken. He pulled himself to a sitting position and looked around. Melinda still hadn't moved, probably unconscious, but Whisker could be seen pulling himself up on the edge of the table.
"Whisker," Blake said in a hoarse voice, "you ok?" Whisker looked at Blake and smiled
"Heh, I'm getting too old for this," he mumbled. He looked around questioningly and stopped when his eyes fell on the gooey mess on the wall next to Blake. "Oh, man, my pizza got killed," he moaned. Blake slid himself across the floor to where Melinda was laying and touched her shoulder lightly.
"Mel?" he said softly. She didn't move. Blake felt his stomach grow cold. "Oh god, Mel, don't do this to me." He touched the side of her face with his fingertips and she stirred and gave a soft moan. Blake smiled, and the ice receded from his stomach. "That's my girl. C'mon, wake up now," he said quietly. Melinda's eyes flickered open. She looked about dazed for a moment before her gaze settled on Blake. She smiled.
"Hey, sugah. Why do you look so worried? Were you afraid that Ah was gonna check out on you?" Blake just smiled and kissed her lightly.
"Hey, anybody else out there?" Grady's voice blared over the intercom. Blake helped pull Melinda to her feet and then spoke into the comm.
"Yeah, we're all ok here, Feth. Are you with Rayle?"
"Well, kinda sorta maybe," came the response, "Rayle is taking a nap, if you know what I mean. He seems ok though. What the hell was that?" Blake shook his head.
"I dunno, hold on a sec, would you?" he said.
"Dorothy, what is current status of the ship?" he spoke aloud. The ship's onboard computer system, Dorothy, kept track of and regulated all systems when the crew was not on the bridge. The computerized voice echoed through the room from multiple speakers.
"Life support optimal. Structural integrity at eighty-four percent. Warning! The hull has been compromised on deck three, section four. Emergency bulkheads in place and holding. Drive systems damaged, coolant leak in unit seven. Computer database intact," Dorothy finished. The drive engines had been damaged before the collision, so that was of little worry. The hull breach was the most serious problem.
"Dorothy, are surveillance cameras still operational in deck three, section four?" Blake asked.
"Yes," the computer replied.
"Display view from the camera at that location, galley monitor," Blake said as he flipped a switch on the wall next to the intercom. A large portion of the wall across from him and Melinda slid upwards, revealing a large projection screen. A moment later a black and white image flashed onto the screen. It was fuzzy, but clear enough.
"Dorothy, show us the breach in the hull," Blake said. The camera panned a few feet to the left. It stopped over what looked like a large dark area in the port bulkhead. He squinted his eyes and stared at the shape.
"Dorothy, run the feed from the camera through the image buffers in the main computer. See if you can clear up the picture," Blake said. There was a short pause and the image briefly disappeared. When it came back, Blake looked at it again. In the space where the hull breach was supposed to be, there was what looked like a large alive-looking shape.
"What the hell is that?" Melinda asked. Blake shook his head.
"I have no idea," he replied, "it looks like something biological. Whisker?" The old Sergeant was stroking his beard slowly, as he always did when confronted with a mystery. During his long lifespan, the old coot had accumulated considerable knowledge of just about everything.
"It looks to me like some kind ," he said cautiously. He took a step closer to the screen and examined it more intently. "I don't want to jump to any conclusions, but if I could get a closer look..." he trailed off.
"Dorothy," Blake said, "is there any atmosphere in that section of the ship?"
"No. All pressurization on deck three was lost in the breach." Blake flipped the comm back on with his working arm.
"Feth, get Rayle to the medical bay, and then go get yours and Whisker's suits. You're going for a little walk."
Twelve minutes after the collision, Blake was back on the bridge, with Melinda at his side, working the navigation systems. Rayle was still down in the infirmary recovering from a concussion. Grady and Whisker were in their CMC-300 Powered Combat Suits and making their way through deck three to the hull breach. Normally, Blake would have gone himself, but his broken arm had somewhat put him out of commission. The bone-healing supplement Melinda had given him in sickbay would help heal it in a few hours, but that was time they didn't have. Damn, the boys at command will be pissed when they hear about this, he thought. There's no way to get back on schedule now. His thoughts were shattered when he realized Melinda was talking to him.
"Hey, sugah, you ok?" she asked. Blake rubbed his eyes and looked around.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok. What's up?" he asked.
"Feth and Whisker are ready to open the last bulkhead," she said, touching a few more of the keys in front of her. Blake flipped on the comm system linked to Feth's suit.
"Grady, activate your gun cam," he said. The monitor in front of him lit up with a relay from the small optic camera mounted on Grady's Gauss rifle. It swung back and forth as he walked.
"We're at door 14-A," Whisker's voice said. Blake tapped a few switches.
"Don't cut through in case we have to close it later, I'll open it remotely," Blake said. He tapped another switch and the door on Grady's camera feed slipped to the side. Past the door there was darkness.
"Power grid's out in this section," Feth said. Blake tapped another key.
"Activating emergency lighting," he said. The lights in the corridor flickered on dimly. Grady and Whisker stepped into the corridor and began to walk toward the object lodged in the breach.
"Should be about forty meters up ahead," Whisker said.
"Damn, what is this stuff?" Grady asked. Blake glanced at Melinda.
"Uh, what stuff, Grady?" Feth's hand could be seen briefly in the camera view.
"This silvery gunk floating in here, what is it?" he repeated.
"It's hydraulic fluid," Rayle's voice came over the comm. "The door must have sprung a leak when you opened it. Nothing major." Blake tapped his fingers against the chair arm.
"Glad to have you back with us, Don," Whisker said.
"Rayle, are you still in the infirmary?" Melinda asked.
"Negative, I'm right behind you," he said, entering the room. Melinda jumped, startled.
"Jesus, Rayle, you just took a year off of mah life!" she exclaimed. Rayle smiled and sat down at his engineering station, the bandage on his head stained dark red.
"Are you sure you're up to this, Rayle?" Blake asked. Rayle tapped the side of his head, wincing only slightly.
"It takes more than this to slow down me, skipper." Blake smiled.
"Good," Blake said. "Grady, have you and Whisker found that thing yet?" he asked.
"Almost," Grady said back. "It should be just around the next- ah there she is!" Grady's camera swung, coming to bear on a large misshapen bundle. "What the hell is it, Whisker?" Whisker entered into the camera view to kneel in front of the object and studied it.
"I'm positive it's some type of cocoon," he said after a moment. "It looks, vaguely- wait, something's happening," Whisker said. The cocoon began to pulsate, and Whisker stepped back from it quickly. Grady's camera swung away from the cocoon as a loud scream was heard.
"Grady! What the hell is going on down there? Answer me dammit!" Blake yelled. The camera suddenly went still, sending the bridge crew a sideways image of the floor. Everything was quiet for a second. The silence was broken as the image moved and stopped facing Whisker's face, the glare from the flashlight making it hard to see him through the glass-plated helmet of his combat suit.
"Vic, sorry about that, we had a little spill here," he said breathlessly.
"What do you mean spill? Where's Feth?" Blake demanded.
"I'm here, cap," Grady's voice said. "This cocoon or whatever it is just spat a load of brown gunk at us. The crap is all over the place."
"Whatever it is, don't get any of it on you," Melinda warned, "It could be toxic, or even corrosive, for that matter." Whisker shook his head in the view of the camera.
"I don't think it's toxic, Mel," he said. Melinda leaned closer to the viewscreen and glanced at Blake.
"Why not, Whisker?" she asked slowly. Whisker handed the gun back to Grady who turned it on a large pile of the sticky brown solution, with something long and pale lying in the midst of it.
"Because if it was harmful I think this guy would be dead," Grady said. Blake just sat and stared for a moment. After a close examination of the image, he could see clearly the shape of an arm and at least two legs protruding from the mess. He looked at Melinda and shrugged.
"You're the Chief Medical Officer, it's your call." Melinda nodded. Blake turned back to the comm and spoke. "Grady, take our guest to the medical bay, Melinda will meet you there. Whisker, report to the bridge as soon as you get out of that suit." He turned Rayle. "Rayle, get down to engineering and fix this damn ship as fast as you can." Rayle shook his head.
"I dunno cap. I don't know if I can get this thing going any faster than half-"
"I don't care if it only goes one quarter," Blake interrupted, "Just get us moving!" Rayle just sat and stared for a second before getting up and going. When he was gone Blake turned to Melinda. "Go down to medical and find out who and what our passenger is." Melinda nodded slowly and proceeded to follow Rayle. Both of them knew not to dispute him when he was angry, and the idea of losing his ship because of a stray jerk in a biologic escape pod was more than enough to get him angry.
Whisker strode onto the bridge, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He had helped Grady carry the body to medical, and it had been surprisingly heavy, even for the two of them inside their combat suits, not that he expected that the body would sit lightly in any way he looked at it. It had been almost three years since he last saw one of these cocoons. The image stirred itself in his mind. The countless experiments done to him while in the custody of the Terran Confederacy were...unsettling, to say the least, but he had witnessed many other atrocities while living in the heart of the Confederate labs. He had lived quite comfortably, since he at that time had no desire to escape, and the scientists had given him full access to all of the research projects going on while he was there. He had seen creatures more horrible than any Zerg, but none of them were as half as deadly.
The door sliding shut behind him aroused him from his thoughts. He was standing in the middle of the bridge; Blake's command chair sitting a few feet from him with it's back turned to face him. He wondered how long he had been standing there. Sometimes his thoughts got in the way of his senses. After being alive for so long, the mind often gets bored with the physical world and turns to it's own devices for entertainment.
"Captain?" he asked cautiously. There was a moment of silence before Blake responded.
"What is it, Whisker?" he asked, "I know that look on your face; you know exactly what it is, don't you?" Whisker swallowed and cleared his throat. There was something in Blake's voice that made Whisker shiver. Coldness, something that seemed to take all the emotion out of his words echoed through the sounds.
"While I was on Tarsonis in the Confederate scientific labs, one group of scientists was experimenting with interbreeding Human and Zerg genetic material," he pointed to the image on the viewscreen. "That," he said slowly, "is a fully grown Zerg maturation chrysalis. The Terran we found inside is a Human-Zerg hybrid, although he's much more advanced than any attempt the scientists in the Confederate labs ever came up with." Nothing happened for a moment, and Whisker had begun to think Blake hadn't heard when he spoke again.
"What's your theory?" he asked. Whisker stroked his beard.
"Sir?" he asked, "What do you mean?"
"Where do you think it came from?" Blake said. Whisker shook his head.
"I don't know," he said. "For all we know he could be straight from the Zerg themselves." Blake shifted in his chair.
"You called it 'he'. I take it that it's a male?" he asked. Whisker nodded, even though Blake couldn't see him.
"Technically. Melinda's running some routine tests now, but anatomically he's a male Terran, approximately thirty-seven years of age," he said. The chair began to slowly turn around as Blake worked the controls. When he was facing him, Whisker could see that the coldness in his voice extended to his gaze. In all his years Whisker had never found anyone who could make him nervous just by looking at him until he had met Victor Blake.
"I want him off my ship," Blake said flatly, "He's already put us behind by so far that there's no way we can get back to Korhal in time for our scheduled arrival." Blake's eyes dropped to the floor in front of him. "He's cost me my ship, Whisker." Whisker was preparing to speak when the comm on Blake's chair beeped. He smacked the button hard with his fist. "What is it now?" he said angrily.
"Captain, Ah think you should come down to the medical bay," Melinda said, "Our guest has awakened and he wants to speak with you." Blake and Whisker looked at each other and Blake rose silently from his chair.
"We're on our way, Ensign," Blake said. He took a few steps forward until he was standing next to Whisker. "I want him off my ship," he whispered, "Go down to the escape pods and prepare one for launch." Whisker nodded slowly. Blake stood there for a moment longer before heading down the corridor quickly. Whisker let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and left the Bridge.
Blake walked into the medical bay quarantine room and met Melinda climbing out of her contamination suit. She looked scared. No matter how much anger Blake had inside of him, he always melted when he saw Melinda, especially if she was suffering.
"Are you ok?" he asked softly. Melinda looked up, startled at his voice.
"Oh, Blake, Ah didn't hear you come in. Yeah, Ah'm ok. It's just...a little weird in there," she said, motioning towards the airlock into the medical bay.
"How so?" Blake asked. Melinda hung her suit on the wall and stepped towards the door.
"You'll see when you get in there. You don't need a suit. The tests Ah ran showed that he's healthier than we are. No harmful viruses or other bio-organisms." Blake nodded and waited for Melinda to close the outer door just to be on the safe side before he opened the inner airlock. The door slid to the side revealing the bright whiteness of the medical bay's halogen lighting. There was a plastic tarp hanging from the ceiling surrounding what must have been the medical couch the Zerg was on. No matter what the other members of the crew thought, he couldn't think of this being as anything but Zerg. He took a long deep breath as he reached the plastic drape, expecting to see a strange ugly creature when he pushed it to one side. He was shocked to see what appeared to be a normal Terran sitting there on the couch. He had expected spines and claws growing out of his body, piercing a scaly hide and green ooze running from his pores. Instead, the creature before him was if anything... handsome, Blake finally admitted to himself. He was sitting on the couch cross-legged, with his hands draped over his knees. His head was bent slightly downward, and his eyes were closed. Shoulder-length black hair hung loosely around his head. Blake gathered himself and spoke.
"My medical officer tells me you wanted to speak with me," he said, expecting to catch the person off guard. He had made little noise entering into the room. Instead the being slowly raised his head and opened his eyes, looking directly at Blake. His eyes were the most radiant blue that Blake had ever seen. The man smiled. Feeling his gaze on himself, Blake shivered. He thought that he had seen cold stares before, but the way that this creature smiled, with an almost charming look that existed in stark contrast to what he represented. Blake once again had to regain his composure.
"Yes," the man said, "I was hoping to have a conversation with you before you did away with me." Blake was startled enough now to twitch visibly.
"How the hell-" Blake started, but the man interrupted him.
"I can read emotions. I can't tell exactly what you're thinking unless you allow me to, but I can sense it to a degree. There is no need for alarm, Captain. If you still intend to destroy me after you hear my story, I will not resist." he said. "My name is Jaryd Kain, formerly of the Confederate Alpha Squadron. In order for you to fully understand my plight, I will have to form a sort of telepathic link with you." Blake crossed his arms and eyed Kain warily. He had heard of and met telepaths before. He himself had even attended a junior Telepaths & Psychics school when he was young because his father believed him to have psychic powers. He had been subjected to various forms of training and tests, and thus had a limited knowledge of the subject.
"What would this link include?" he asked.
"It is a basic psychic link. Only one of the participants is required to be telepathic. It will allow you to see into my mind, and to view the information I set forth for you," he said. "Once we are linked, I will relinquish control of the connection to you. I will be unable to break off the link without your concurrence. Will you accept?"
Blake nodded and thought for a moment. He seemed sincere, yet there was something odd about his request. "You sound as if you've thought this through. Why are you so eager to link with me?" Blake asked. "How do you know that I won't try to tamper with your brain while I'm inside of it?" Kain smiled. A surprisingly warm smile, as Blake took it.
"I can sense your thoughts. You would take any excuse to kill me, but you do not want to use me," he said. He was right. Blake had no desire whatsoever to have anything to do with this Zerg, but his idea seemed plausible.
"All right," Blake said after a moment. "I will link with you." Kain nodded and smiled.
"It will take a few moments to prepare. I am...slightly out of practice," he said.
Blake didn't mind the wait. It gave him time to gather his thoughts. The Protoss were rumored to have a communal psychic link. Blake thought something like that would quickly get on his nerves. The lack of privacy would bother him immensely. He wondered whether he should let the crew know that he would be occupied for a time...
"The link will last only seconds, Captain," Kain said. Blake grumbled softly. That was going to get on his nerves too. After a few minutes of trying to think of nothing at all, Kain's blue eyes opened.
"I am ready," he said. Blake nodded his head.
"Ok, let's do this."
Kain closed his eyes again. "Imagine a flower bud, slowly blossoming into a beautiful image in your mind..." Blake knew what this was. He had been hypnotized before. Kain was distracting Blake's mind so that he could tap into it more easily. Blake let it happen. He felt slightly drowsy, and suddenly there was a tingling in the back of his mind. He felt Kain's mind converge with his own, until there was only one. It was an interesting sensation, while it lasted.
Two seconds after their minds had melded together, both Kain and Blake slipped into a trance.