I had reached my goal; the greatest threat to my plans and my victory. An opportunity had presented itself, to catch the target off-guard and crush it in a dormant state. Plans had been laid and carried out by my underlings. Battles had been fought, information gathered. And now I was here, to personally see that its destruction was carried out. Keid had advised me not to put myself at risk. But the truth is I am always at risk. I tend to lead from the rear, and this has proven to be a wise policy. But I think for myself and I do as I please. The importance of my life will not transform me into a coward.

I was indoors, and the vast metallic dome overhead was like an artificial sky in its dark and blue hue. And overhead me was my target; my trophy prize. It was a machine suspended from the ceiling. Cables and tubes ran into it and came out of it, connecting its superstructure to computer systems and high capacity power conduits. Construction arms giant and small surrounded it from the high walls and dome-like ceiling, which were all inactive in their static grip on the machine. The target itself was immense in scale. In its closed, dormant state even its outside anatomy was difficult to know.

I turned to one of my allies. He was normally cloaked; concealed from detection, but in this moment his dark face, thick mane of dreadlocks and black and red environment suit were visible as day. He was a Spectre; an alternative, modified version of the Terran Ghost. "It's time to go to work, Tosh." His Spectres were all over the place, hidden and covering us.

"Where you be wantin' me?" He spoke in a low, distinct and dispassionate tone that was vaguely accented. "My rifle be but a pea shooter 'gainst that thing."

I tsked at this. "Keid is taking another entrance. He's going to tap into the docking support systems and try to overload its central brain with a directed surge."

"He 'tinks Gentek's big, bad weapon can be killed wit' a little electricity?"

I just shrugged at this perfectly fair question. "I asked the same thing, and he went into technical speak about arcing around an unexpressed axis and pre-timed temporary dispersions which can bypass its surge protection." At that point I'd raised a hand and said 'fine, just get it done.' Suddenly I remembered that Tosh asked where I wanted him. "I want you to find a vantage point on this main floor. If security shows up, you and your Spectres are to shoot on sight."

Without a word, the Spectre vanished, becoming a glowing red wireframe as his cloaking activated. He was quickly rendered invisible.

Gabriel Tosh was one of the strongest psychics I'd ever met, human or otherwise. His contract had a steep price, but his troops were a contingent of extremely useful Spectres, and his track record was beyond solid. After our first few conversations I'd actually come to like him. He was my kind of guy. When, as is my habit whenever I meet a strong human psychic, I offered to make him a Broodmother he simply laughed and said he'd consider it.

I pulled out a handheld radio and held the transmit button. "Talk to me, Rook Team. Have you got an ETA? Over." On the other end was the commander of another group of mercs on my payroll. This one being a larger force of more regular troops. Mercenary Goliaths, Marauders, Marines and Siege Tanks. They had heavier hardware than my Spectres, and maybe they could put a dent in the massive machine suspended before me.

"We're nearly to the building Ma'am, just coming up the last pass." Answered the voice on the other end. "The main doors are heavily reinforced. It'll take some time and noise to blow our way through. Over."

"I'll have them opened from inside. Keep the noise to a minimum. Over." I switched channels and then held transmit again. "Pawn Team, are you in their local network?"

"The firewalls are bypassed and the passkeys we found are good. I'm logged in. Over." Keid replied.

"Perfect. I need the big doors open." I released the transmit button.

The indoor environment of the giant, unevenly shaped building echoed with metallic ringing as a sequence of locks unlatched electronically. I turned and looked behind me, seeing a pair of massive double doors separate and roll apart on tracked wheels, revealing the starlit nighttime sky outside. Augustgrad was visible in the distance, through a number of dry, rocky crags surrounding the high mountain this facility was built inside. This opening would allow my main force into the open floor of the facility when they arrived.

I waited awhile, walking off to the side to stand next to a small row of pallets, where I wasn't a sitting duck in the middle of the open ground and floor. After a minute of checking the outside for an approaching army, I picked up my radio again. "Hey… Pawn. How's ah… how's frying this thing's brain coming along?" I said to Keid.

"I must ask that you find some other way to amuse yourself, Princess. Over."

I frowned at this, feeling annoyed. And then I replied: "I asked you a question. I need to know what everybody's doing for this operation to run smoothly. Over." I released the button. Even in mission mode he managed to find some way to annoy me.

"In the event that I have something to report, I will report it. Over."

"I asked for a status update." I growled this.

"Very well:" He entered into rapid speak, "No hostiles in my vicinity. I'm tweaking the industrial-grade transformers to allow the surge through, and re-orienting the grid to accommodate the timed dispersion algorithm. A couple of Tosh's people are replacing key ROM chips with microcontrollers. Over."

I twitched even more at his doing exactly what I asked. Next I put two fingers on my forehead. "Tosh, are… um, are you in position?"

His psionic voice replied: "What the science man said, boss. If you cannot patience yourself… we not bringin' you along no more."

Everybody was just so sucky tonight. I switched channels on my radio and called the commander of my main force. "Give me an ETA, Rook Team. Over."

"We'll be there in five minutes Ma'am. Over."

Five whole minutes for the big guns to get here. Five minutes that would wear on my patience, and on the window before GenTek learned of our infiltration and sent a response force. The only people here when we arrived were a nightshift of civilian staff and a token number of security guards. They were all lined up along a wall, tranquilized and fast asleep.

"At last, I, have found you, Princess." The voice came from behind, and had a familiar pacing and gravel-stricken pitch. I turned, and through the very large opening to the outside presented by the open main doors, I saw him. The surprise of his appearance was immediately overridden by the fact that I knew him and he was a sucky, sucky, annoying, sucky… Urgh! I can't stand him!

He came right up to me, having come in from outside. I could barely contain my seething resentment. "What, in the almighty Goddess' name are you doing here, Dehaka?" I glared up at him.

"You want that joker killed, Saraslha?" Tosh asked me telepathically.

Yes! Shoot him. Fill him with so much accelerated mass that there's no way he could ever regenerate. "…No, hold your fire." I actually said.

Dehaka spoke in answer to my question. "I, was hired…" He growled a bit, "By Admiral Horner. Find, you. Retrieval job."

"Hired by Horner?" This was bewildering to me. Matt Horner was that attractive young officer who escorted me to Korhal. He was Valerian's guy. "What kind of fetid, puss-filled cesspit did he dig you out of?"

"You, must come, with me. Not, safe here…" He took several steps toward me, getting close.

"Hey!" I suddenly had a hand raised. "Bad, bad Dehaka! Keep your distance." There was a reason I didn't like Dehaka, a reason he never failed to remind me of. I wish I had a bottle of water to spray him with. Water usually got to him.

He stopped for only a moment; a few seconds, and then he continued without a word. I turned to run, but his speed and one-armed reach were remarkable. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me close to himself, lugging my entire bodymass with ease as he turned and moved away from the Facility entrance with my esteemed self slung under his arm. I struggled and shouted every nanosecond of the way, of course. But the blue bastard was a lot stronger than his ropey, reptilian figure would suggest. "Put me down you giant blue jackass!" "Tosh, shoot him!"

The gunshot made the well-suppressed sound of a firm puff as the bullet from a distant canister rifle pierced Dehaka's carapace from behind. It exited his body out the chest in a spatter of blood and shredded organ tissue.

This barely managed to slow Dehaka as he bent over from the impact, but otherwise broke into a free run. I heard Tosh's psionic voice, "Open fire boys. Don't hit the Client." More shots from Spectre canister rifles erupted from inside the building. But I knew it wouldn't be enough to stop Dehaka escaping, especially in their caution not to hit me.

Earlier

"How's it feel, Keid? Is being my stooge all it's cracked up to be?" Saraslha's voice could be heard out of an earpiece in the Terran Scientist's ear. He was out on a pedestrian street, well out of the sun in the lower levels of Augustgrad's urban canopy. The people tended little to their own appearance, and the homeless and jobless were on full display at out of the way corners and public benches. All light was artificial, and all seconds occupied by a din of people and echoing noises of distant machines and vehicles within the metallic superstructure of the city's lower plates.

"You should have a walk down here yourself, Princess." He maneuvered around an untended, ruined vehicle left on the street to rust. "The adolescent royal seeing what it's like outside her castle walls; I'm a sucker for that story."

"Ooh, funny." She joked. "This ain't my kingdom, though."

Keid walked past a bum in rags laid over a public bench. He was either passed out or dead, and the dirty air had a twang of vomit scent. "Poverty is poverty, and you're as rich and powerful as it gets. The trope would work."

"I've studied that word; 'poverty'." Saraslha said. "And what it means is people with nothing to do; no purpose and no productive end. The Zerg have zero poverty; all of my people have a purpose that fulfills them in life. It's Valerian who should tour my mother's ghettoes, not the other way around."

He had reached the target area. "We can debate living conditions between races later. I'm at the location." Next to him was a dark, deserted alleyway between two steel buildings that went all the way up into the upper plate, seconding as supports. He headed calmly into this alley. It was deserted; nobody was visible. He stopped halfway in. "To whomever may be listening: I've lost my safe keys, and I'm curious if you have the mold for them." It was a code phrase, with no meaning except identification.

Gabriel Tosh became visible, walking out from behind a wide outdoor ventilation shaft. He looked Keid in the eye. "I'm havin' the mold cleaned. Come back next week."

This was the correct answer to the code phrase. "You're Gabriel Tosh, then."

"And you ain't the client. She sounded like a puny girl. 'Te daughter of some billionaire, I'm presuming."

"I'm an intermediary." He explained calmly. "Our mutual associate would prefer not to be identified."

"And mah boys have identified you. You're a science man, works for GenTek, the big, bad megacorporation." He subtly, calmly stepped closer.

"Our mutual associate is not affiliated with GenTek, in fact her goal is to destroy that organization and kill its leader, David Kuraski. She wishes to enlist your services in the cause of doing so."

Tosh's voice suddenly became forceful. "You be forgivin' me if that's suspicious as all hell." His knife was out, and he was now walking circles around Keid, whose hands clasped behind his back, calmly standing. "And you workin' wit' this client makes you a dirty rotten traitor, yeah?"

Keid took a deep, exasperated breath as Tosh's knife was held close to his neck in circling. "Yes, I'm a dirty rotten traitor." He could hear Saraslha chuckling in his earpiece. "You're a psychic, no?" Keid continued. "You can tell if a person is lying. That's why you wanted to meet in person."

"The client in person. You're not the client." His head shook subtly as he slowed, and stopped circling around him. "But I'm havin' a sense of things. A sense of…" He leaned closer, and his nostrils flared as he sniffed through them. When this gradual, patient inhalation finished, his eyes lit, and he grinned. "You been near Zerg." Another whiff. "A Zerg… wit' a big brain…" It dawned on him. "The client is the missing Princess, no?"

"Dang… he's good. Tell him he's hired." Saraslha said through the earpiece.

"She says you're hired."

"My boys and I don't come cheap." He'd taken several steps back into the alleyway, facing away from Keid.

"Indeed, but for some reason or another you're in need of money. That's why you put a contract out." He spoke calmly to the Spectre. "The Client wishes to retain your services for the duration of thirty days. She'll pay your full price immediately up-front."

Gabriel Tosh looked leftward, then right, muttering a bit to himself, borne more of eccentricity than any particular mood. After many seconds of this, he came out with his answer. "It's a deal."

"Very good." He nodded. "I'm being tailed by three discreet individuals who are looking for the Princess, with the intent to kill her. They think I'm leading them to her."

"I noticed you bein' tailed." Tosh said. "My boys got crosshairs on them. Does she want them alive?"

"I don't want them alive."

"She doesn't want them alive."

It was a rapid succession, mere seconds after Tosh shut his eyes and transferred the order telepathically. The mostly metallic terrain of the lower city echoed with the discharge of three different rifle shots.

There was a minor uproar; startled people out on the streets, wondering where the gunshots came from. Some shouted, some ran, but otherwise it was a mild ripple in public order. In this lower level of the city, the sound of gunshots were commonplace. Law enforcement would be around soon to look into it, but they never found anything to arrest or quell in such a low-energy slum.

"I am very pleased with this fella, Keid."

"She says she's very pleased with you." He relayed.

"Tell him I'll be in touch. Stay in town."

Keid turned to leave. "The Client will be in touch. You're to remain in the vicinity of Augustgrad." When Tosh turned and left in the other direction without a word, Keid went back out on the street. "I must say, Princess. Being your stooge has its… experiences." He would take a different route, rounding back to the place he came; a train station.

"Afraid he'd slit your throat, weren'tcha?"

"Of course."

"Welp, better you than me."

"You'll be a wonderful leader of your people, I'm sure." He said sarcastically.

"I'm no Queen of Blades, but I try." Her tone was flattered, and somewhat bashful.

"If someone at GenTek suspects me, then my apartment is no longer safe." He switched the topic to a more serious one.

"Way ahead of you. Meet me at the Hotel Marianne. You're certainly not being followed now."

"Which room?"

"The… entire hotel. I own it now. Oh, and you didn't forget to pick up the stuff I asked for, did you?"

He decided it would be wise not to ask why she bought a hotel. "It all managed to fit in the trunk."

"Splendid! Now, care to elaborate what made GenTek suspicious of you?"

"Her name…" He reached the train station, and timed his arrival with the next departure almost perfectly. The doors automatically shut, and the mono railed transit vehicle began to move. The car he entered was deserted, but he stood nonetheless rather than taking a seat. "Is Karla Simmons."

Earlier Yet

You mean GenTek's head of Security? Saraslha said. That's where I found the name.

She's David Kuraski's attack dog, and when I came into GenTek West this morning, I was immediately taken to a conference room by security, and there she was. She was conducting a mole hunt, and I was to be… questioned.

The first thing to always stand out with Karla was her dress-sense. A fashionable pale-purple coat and slacks, with a long, expressive scarf down her center which was not meant for warmth. The next feature to stand out was a head of short, but thick raven hair that gave no indication of allowing itself to smooth over, but was shaped and controlled nonetheless.

You really memorized what she looks like. Is that useful in some way?

Come, Princess. I'm telling a story.

Yeah, yeah fine. Tell away, Keid.

I was seated at the end of the table, security personnel were at the two doors which led into the broader office area. She was the first to speak: "Apologies for the disruption, Doctor Marchen. I assure you it's important."

"I believe you," I said, putting up a relaxed appearance, my hands rested on the table in a knit.

"I just have a few basic questions." She exited my field of vision before coming around my seat and propping a hand on the table some distance away. She looked me straight in the eye. I'd always wondered whether she was a tomboy, a lesbian or both, the way she carried herself like a man, but one look into those eyes told an entirely different story: She was a stone-cold killer. "Where were you last night, between the times of 03:00 hours and 06:00?"

"I was at the Grey Mesa compound."

This answer surprised her; caught her off guard. She'd already believed I was there, but didn't expect I'd admit it. "And… for what purpose?"

"My primary assignment was oversight and maintenance of the Hybrid Specimen's container. I went to the Mesa regularly."

"So you saw what happened. You were there at the time." She had an icy glare.

"Somebody tipped off the authorities, and now you're questioning everybody who had access." I deflected forcefully. "Believe me, I'm as pissed off as you and Mister Kuraski. The damned authorities had no business storming a private facility and killing the Specimen. I hope you find the prick that ratted us out." That prick was me, of course. But They didn't need to know that.

She tapped the tabletop twice. "Let's stay on topic. What did you see, and what did you do?" If my story contradicted what she knew to be true, she'd know I was lying. But now she thinks I believe that the Hybrid was killed by the Dominion Garrison, and I had no knowledge of you, or their mercenaries, believing these mercenaries were, in fact the Garrison.

You crafted a helluva lie then. Slipping in misdirection like that. I'm the one who killed Niadra.

Indeed you did, Princess. Anyhow, my testimony went like this: "I entered through a personnel elevator at around 04:30. None of the staff were present for some reason. I didn't think much of it; the Mesa was a discreet, lightly manned facility; perhaps the shifts were rotating."

Karla shook her head, getting up and pacing again. "A memo was distributed to everybody with clearance; they were to steer clear of the Grey Mesa until further notice. Did you not read it?"

"I did, and I chose to ignore it."

"You… not only took insubordinate action, but admit as much freely."

"Insubordination to whom? An automated email server? Piss off." I was angered now; mildly outraged as I leaned forward. "There needs to be a damn good reason not to inspect the integrity of a container housing an entity that can cause mass destruction and death. No reason was given in the email, and no reason is a trash reason."

"You should watch your tone, Doctor Marchen. You're suspect like everybody else."

I made finger quotes, "I don't have proof, but he was rude to me so it's him." My face was lowered slightly, shaking my head. "You're a true professional, Karla. Real top-notch investigative work."

You were being a real ass then. Saraslha commented.

I was acting like an ass who was innocent of the crime. The latter of those is the important part.

"You're starting to annoy me…" Karla's tone was low now, and she stopped pacing. The security guards at each door were indifferent.

"That's not my intention at all, Ma'am. I want to help in any way I can." I'd shifted to a cordial, accommodating demeanor. "Are you looking into the anonymous caller who tipped the authorities?"

Her arms were crossed now. "Yes, I have someone on that. But it's off topic—"

"Look, Miss Simmons" my hand waved off dismissively. "I only glimpsed the scene of the clearing from the overhead control room before turning tail and running. There was a crashed Viking, about a half dozen in walker form, and a large contingent of footsoldiers from the Augustgrad Garrison. The Specimen was on the ground dead; her head severed from her body." I took a breath, continuing. "As I fled, I heard an explosion from that direction; like a grenade or bomb going off. I didn't see anybody though."

"At what time did you witness the scene?" She asked.

"I guess it was about… twenty minutes after I arrived. Twenty after four-thirty."

D'oh… that's a lie, Keid. You scrammed out of there a bit before that, with me over your shoulders.

Indeed Princess. A story so very close to the truth, but which doesn't incriminate me.

It makes you the most suspicious.

At first glance, yes. But for a trained investigator… A rude suspect who is aware enough not to be, and whose story is one lie wrapped in a sea of truths…

Karla Simmons shook her head. "There's no way you're the mole, Doctor Marchen."

"Do you have an idea of who might be?"

She sighed, exasperated. "No…" Then her gaze slipped silently to looking me in the eye. "I also have no leads on the princess. She could be anywhere."

A chill ran up my spine. She still suspected me, and was probing every possible avenue to make me give myself away. If I responded with any awareness of… you, Saraslha, then it would incriminate me. My story would only work if I hadn't noticed you.

I don't like this Simmons lady… does she die in this story?

What? No. Just… let me tell the story, Saraslha.

I get to tell a story next, and you have to listen… okay?

Yeah, sure. Anyhow, my response was a mere second after she spoke. "Oh, hey!" My eyes lit up as I leaned forward. "Did you hear about the Zerg Princess visiting Korhal? That's a hell of an event."

Her expression was a mix of surprise, annoyance, and quizzical puzzlement. "That was… all over the news, everywhere, Doctor Marchen. There isn't anybody who doesn't know about it."

"It sure caught me off-guard." I appeared relaxed. "It's pretty phenomenal, when you think about it: Diplomancy, with the most savage, violent alien race in known existence."

"I suppose it is." She said indifferently.

"They're saying on the news that she's vanished or some such. I certainly hope nothing happens to her. Another war with the Zerg would be… terrible." I looked casually into her eyes as I said this.

"I don't have any further questions." She was shaking her head. "Perhaps later, but for now you're free to go."

She would end up interviewing everybody on the list of suspects before drawing any hard leads. I left the conference room, and was reassigned to my old department; the one I worked in before we found the Hybrid specimen and needed to build a containment unit.

On Saraslha's end

I was lain relaxedly on the cushiest piece of furniture I'd ever encountered. It was inside the penthouse suite of the Hotel Marianne; an establishment I had just purchased in its entirety a few hours ago. Humans were frail creatures, but they really knew how to not only make their environment survivable, but to make it heaven for their frail selves. I almost wished I didn't have a carapace over most of my body so I could feel the material and cushiness more intimately.

A portable encrypted telephone rested in my slack, outstretched hand. Keid was on the other end, telling me about how he lied his way out of Kuraski's gal finding out what a traitor he was. I get to tell a story next time though; he promised.

I brought the phone near my speaking orifice, "What was your job before keeping Niadra in a box? Did it have something to do with studying my kind?"

"Zerg Neurobiology, as a matter of fact. The team I was part of developed a functional, synthetic brain that was receptive to psionic commands from humans. It was a critical piece of the Chronos project."

"Scary…" I said with an oblivious lack of conviction as my other hand probed about for a half-depleted bag of snack cakes. "The monkeys went and made a brain."

"Emperor Mengsk the Second has taken drastic measures in lessening the presence of government in people's lives, and the result has been an explosion of technological advancement and economic growth. We could never have completed the project, much less gotten it greenlit under Arcturus' regime; too many regulations, too much red tape. The downside, however…" he trailed.

"The downside is GenTek's private army and shady agenda making a target of my esteemed self." I completed, having found my snack cakes and taken several into my mouth, chewing as I talked.

"I'd compare Arcturus Mengsk's regime to GenTek, but that wouldn't be fair to GenTek. A tyrannical government is an entire league worse than an overpowered megacorporation."

"It's okay, you've already betrayed them." I said through a mouthful of snack cake. "You can say you hate them."

"I don't hate them, Princess. I don't even think David Kuraski is a bad person. But the attempt on your life was reckless and irresponsible, and I couldn't go along with it."

"Well you better be okay with me killing him. It's the reason I haven't hightailed it off Korhal; this is my only chance to nail the bastard without creating an international incident."

"I'm one hundred percent behind your cause, Princess."

I had a small, private smile at this.

"Speaking of synthetic Zerg brains and the Chronos project, there's an important matter I wish to discuss… But I'd like to do so in person."

"Why in person?' I turned and sat up in my cushy couch. "You don't have to worry about the line, it's super-encrypted."

"This is true," he said. "But it's really important, and I want to be certain you're listening."

"Whaat?" I asked in lazy outrage. "I always listen, come on. What's it about?" Now I was leaning forward to grab my big glass bottle of Cola. It was the most exotic beverage I'd ever tasted; not as sweet as condensed Vespene, but it left a pleasant aftertaste and was no slouch on the energy boost.

"Project Chronos... is a superweapon."

This caused me to sober. I swallowed my Cola sip before replying. "We'll… talk when you get here." GenTek had something that might qualify as a superweapon; this could throw a significant wrench in my plans. I hung up.

I rose to my feet and began walking. The suite was spacious and dim; its giant windows to the outside were covered with drapes, letting in only cracks of daylight. The Hotel Marianne was a tower on the top plate of Augustgrad. I managed to relocate myself to it by purchasing the building through digital contract, and then sneaking through the city using a cloaking module I'd bought online. Since I owned the building, that meant I could do whatever I want with it, including fortify it against attack.

My tablet, resting on the bar counter, had a list of contractors who could turn my building into a fortress. One group even offered to include the installation of a Defense Matrix generator that could shield the entire exterior; I was leaning toward their offer. Several mercenary contracts had also been bought by me, and their forces would arrive on Korhal soon. Now that Tosh was hired I could have his people hustle the right people in the bureaucracy to get my mercenary forces cleared for landing without any hassles in orbit.

Even prior to the Queen of Blades' invasion of Korhal, it was the most fortified world in the Koprulu Sector. These days it was even more so with a giant orbital fortress in synchronous orbit over Augustgrad, as well as hundreds of smaller platforms, surface-based weapons and a significant defense fleet. Attempting to penetrate the planet's defense with anything less than a Zerg-scale invasion; All the Queen's Horses and All the Queen's Men, would be suicide.

So of course jerrying the system on the control level to get a small force of their fellow humans through was the wiser decision. I had never before commanded an army that wasn't Zerg, but there's a first for everything I suppose. With the sheer magnitude of private security forces and mercenary contacts GenTek had, challenging them militarily would be dangerous. But I had to; even if a chance presented itself to assassinate Kuraski discreetly, the retaliation would be immense and I would need to fight them anyway.

Something caught my eye from the corner of my view as I was staring at my tablet sipping Cola. The television had been left on with the sound muted. And this peculiar thing nabbed at my attention. I unmuted the television as I turned fully to see it. The channel was UNN; an indoor studio, and what I saw on their set through the TV would have made me drop my Cola if I didn't cherish the exotic drink so.

Broodmother Rindell.

"Do not obstruct me, weaklings." Her voice was distant from any microphone on set, making it barely audible as she moved across the floor on a formation of legs. The live camera tracked her. Somebody in the distance was screaming. Several chairs were knocked over, and a boom mic lay on the floor. The place was apparently in uproar. "No, keep the cameras rolling." Spoke another, crisply audible female voice.

I couldn't believe my eyes. Rindell had broken into a television studio, and interrupted a live broadcast. "You," Rindell pointed with her two-fingered hand to somebody off-screen. "You will broadcast what I am to say over your entire network, or I'll end your existence."

"This is a live broadcast." The human female voice spoke calmly. "You're already on air, Broodmother."

"Good. Bring a microphone to me."

One of the handful of people to not flee the studio went to fetch a microphone. The human female began speaking in a low, rapid voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, dear viewers, Broodmother Rindell of internet media fame has just broken into our studio, and is demanding a microphone and a platform by which to broadcast… a message of some sort I assume. What is this message? We will soon find out. This is Kate Lockwell, UNN, and I'm currently afraid for my life."

Rindell was handed a microphone, which she held awkwardly between two hands. I couldn't help but be immensely entertained by my gal's antics. A smirk was on my face as I watched the television.

"Princess Saraslha." Rindell said, her voice clear now that she was near a mic.

I immediately sobered, calmed. It just occurred to me that she didn't even know whether I was alive.

"I cannot sense your mind anywhere on this planet. Your severed nerve cords were found at the Grey Mesa, and this explains much… nevertheless, there must be a reason you have not returned."

I had a war to fight; a unique war, which would help me to grow. If I returned, then I'd be forced to flee the planet and Kuraski will have won. I couldn't return.

"I am certain you must still be in Terran Space, my Princess, and so if you're viewing this, be assured that you will be found, and brought back to the Swarm. And if you are held captive, then this message is for your captors:" Rindell was staring at the camera with a dormant, boiling rage. "Release her to us unharmed, immediately. If you fail to do this, all the Swarm will mobilize, and the universe will not be large enough for you to hide. Your existence will be forfeit."

In the background, a large number of lightly armored, but heavily armed Garrison soldiers flooded into the room through a destroyed door. They formed a battle line along the distant wall with their gauss rifles aimed at Rindell. "Don't shoot!" The human female called. "She hasn't killed anyone."

"Broodmother Rindell." The Garrison Captain said. "You are under arrest for assault, breaking and entering, trespassing, and disturbing the peace. Come with us, or take your chances against our firepower, and the perimeter of a hundred more combat personnel surrounding the building. The choice is yours."

My eyes were glued to the television. I didn't expect the Garrison to exercise due process for a Zerg, and a part of me was glad Rindell had exercised restraint and didn't kill any humans. But now… what would she do? Zerg were not wired to flee, and especially not wired to surrender. Rindell was conscious, with advanced brain mass, and could act against her instincts if she chose. But if she didn't, and it was likely she wouldn't, it would mean a bloodbath. If the first wave of humans failed to kill her, she could lay eggs and raise a small army from the human biomass.

I could not sense Rindell's mind, even though I knew exactly where that particular studio was. When I tried to connect, the open ends of my severed nerve cords throbbed, and bled slightly through the clamps as more blood was circulated through them… But now I had to. I understood that Rindell's best option was to turn herself in. If she went on a killing spree, it would bring my people's relations with the dominion back to square one. "Rindell…" As I tried to cast my voice in her direction, the pain flared to a whole new level. I dropped to my knees, my hands resting atop the backrest of the couch in front of me. My telepathic voice used every nerve cord at once, and the damage to just a few of them scrambled the entire system and disjointed it. I kept repeating the name: "Rindell… Rindell… Rindell…"

And then all of the minds, all of the conscious wills of the inhabitants of the giant city became audible as one titanic, tremoring din with my psi awareness being manually boosted. It was little wonder the Terrans placed limiting elements on their own psychics; they'd go insane otherwise at their first encounter with a major population center.

The headache, the disjointed attempt at telepathy became too much. After the fight with the Hybrid Niadra, my body had healed in under an hour, but nerve cords were a different story; it'd take them several more days to be functional again. The attempt at connection broke off. I had failed; my voice didn't even come close to Rindell. I watched the standoff on the television.

Rindell did not bare her acid spines, or adopt any kind of aggressive stance. "I…" She said, after many painful seconds of suspense. "I surrender."

The captain audibly swallowed, with the female reporter having maneuvered around the room to place a microphone near him. "Alright then." He managed to keep his composure at confronting the Zerg creature. "Come with me down to the station."

Still sitting on my knees, I exclaimed with an almost cathartic relief, feeling the fear and stress vanish. My gal had made the right decision on her own. I was proud of her.

"And there you have it viewers." The reporter narrated, eager to cover this story which had delivered itself to her doorstep. "This bloodthirsty Zerg warrior has gone against all expectations reasonably made by Humanity; myself included, and turned herself in to the authorities." The camera followed Rindell heading calmly toward the destroyed door, being escorted by Garrison troops with their guns leveled at her.

I calmed, my arms lagged over the couch backrest as my breathing became even again. There was a knock on my door. Outside was a small hallway leading to an elevator and service stairway. The Penthouse occupied almost the entire top floor. "Who is it?" I asked in an elevated voice as I shot to my feet to grab my large pistol from the counter.

"A dirty rotten traitor, Your Brattiness."

"Well?" I said. "I told Reception to give you a key when you arrived."

"I don't want to be accidentally shot, so I'm announcing myself first."

"We gotta talk, fast. Come in." After setting my gun on the counter, I headed away from between the bar and couch area, toward the door. When Keid opened it and walked in, I immediately started speaking. "My gal Rindell's been arrested. I can't show my face in public, the hotel staff thinks I'm human 'cause they haven't seen me in person yet and my nerve cords are taking their sweet time healing so…" I took a fresh breath to keep talking rapidly, "you need to go tell her I'm fine and not to do anything crazy, okay?" I was energetic. I wanted to just run a kilometer or two after the adrenalin of watching the standoff.

He needed a second to process all of this. "Rindell, she's… the Broodmother?"

I started pacing. God, he was slow! "She's my bodyguard, she did something rash because she thinks I'm in danger, and now they're taking her to the slammer. Do you not follow current events?"

"I've been busy running errands." He looked upward, thinking about it. "A Broodmother in prison… she'll be leader of the toughest gang in like… a day."

I nodded at this as I paced, raising an index finger. "I agree she's pretty bright, but that's really not the issue right now."

"So you want me to visit her in prison and tell her you're alright."

"Yes! Exactly."

"You can't just… talk to her telepathically?"

I picked up one of my severed nerve cords by its blunt end, wrapped in a steel belt clamp. "I tried, and it hurt. Speaking of which… about one of the items I had you fetch…"

Reminded, he reached into a coat pocket and took out a small glass bottle with a safety lid. "I figured this was for your nerve cords."

"Ohh… sweet comfort." I walked up and accepted the bottle. A lot of the stuff in my new penthouse was kept in twisty caps, like bottles of Cola. I'd gotten experienced at opening them in the last few hours. But this little bottle was refusing to open no matter how much I twisted it.

"It's a child safety lid." Keid said, watching me struggle with it. "You need to—"

"I've got it." I snipped in annoyance, turning around and walking back to the counter. "You've got a message to deliver. Then we can talk about GenTek's superweapon and the best way to blow it to bits." Fed up with the safety lid, I smashed the glass bottle on the granite bar counter. The contents were thick and paste-like, and didn't go anywhere. Eager, I fingered up swabs of the stuff and meticulously applied it on the open wounds at the ends of my nerve cords. I looked over to see what Keid was doing.

His earpiece was out, and he was manually inputting a connection code with a tiny dial. "That paste is normally used for flesh wounds." He said, not looking at me. "It'll enter your bloodstream in the exposed area, and clot the arteries, no matter how large or small and prevent blood loss. It also seconds as a disinfectant, though I doubt you've need of that second purpose, your Zergly Highness."

With the paste applied to the ends of my nerve cords, I could take the belt clamps off without them bleeding. The vanquishing of this discomfort put me in a bright mood. "Rindell… is pretty important to me, you know. I don't want her doing anything rash while in custody…" I unscrewed the clamps one at a time, setting them on the counter.

"No worries, Princess. It will be resolved in about thirty seconds." He placed the earpiece back in his ear. "Tosh, it's the intermediary." A pause. "I bring a new order from the client; this one's easy. She wants you to contact the recently arrested Broodmother telepathically, and relay the following message word for word:" And then he removed the earpiece, walked right up to me, and offered it to me like it was a microphone and I was being interviewed.

The understanding quickly came to me. I beamed with joy at what was happening as I thought of what to say. Quickly I inhaled and summoned the words. "Rindell, I promise you I'm fine. There are things I have to do, and I can't reveal my location to you because honestly, I don't trust you not to grab me, lug me under your arm and drag me back to Char yourself. This is to your credit! You'd do anything to protect me, I know that. And perhaps one day that might become vital. You're free to search for me; I welcome that because it's indicative of your good intentions and the best in you. I ask only that you refrain from hurting anybody who doesn't mean you harm."

I had a lot more to say. The earpiece was held patiently and silently before me. "I saw what you did in the studio. You went against everything you felt was right, and gave yourself up. I know how difficult that had to be for you, and I know why you did it. You did it because…" I was on the verge of choking up with tears. "Because you knew that it's what I would have wanted. Because you believe in me, in my crazy ideas. That…" My eyes were damp; tear glands given to me by the human half of my essence. "That means more to me than you will ever know…"

I took a breath, composing myself. "The guy who tried to arrange my death is going to get what's coming to him. He wanted a war, and now he's going to have it. I can't leave until he's dealt with; I have no proof of his complicity and there's no way I can get to him from the safety of the Swarm. I can't go back yet, Rindell. I'm sorry. I'll win though." My expression perked up. "You know what I'm capable of better than anyone. My pieces are being set on the board, and he'll be gone by the tenth move, at the latest." Satisfied, I decided to wrap it up. "I expect you to triumph over every challenge that comes your way, as you've already done, Rindell. Such is the way of the Swarm, and of the great Goddess of Life. Show no mercy, especially not to your own undesirable impulses. You've committed a minor offense, and will be let off with a fine or meager jail time as long as you don't kill anybody or repeat offend. Go along with this, so you can get set free and back to doing what you do as soon as possible. That is all… signing off."

Keid raised the earpiece in offering, and I took it, placing it inside my own earhole. "Did you get all that…?"

"Relayed in real time. She's already heard it." Gabriel said calmly to me.

"Well done, Tosh." The eccentric Spectre had just done right by me. "I'm having a planning meeting, and I want you here. Come to the Penthouse Suite of the Hotel Marianne." With this, I removed the earpiece and handed it back to Keid. "I suppose now we can talk about the Superweapon."

"Yes, It's being kept at the Olympus Facility, sixty clicks out from the City Limits." He accepted his earpiece and put it back in.

"It'll be priority one as soon as my forces make a landing. I'm thinking tomorrow night, once my nerve cords have healed." I clapped my hands together, rubbing them as I turned and walked further inside. "Do come in, let's get to plotting."

Night had fallen over the urban cityscape of Augustgrad. Kuraski observed this view from the encompassing window of his office. The system's star fading from vision as it dipped under the horizon, and the smaller, innumerable swarm of city lights coming in to supplant the greater light which had left, this left a vague twang of nostalgia in his mind, coupled with excitement, a desire to do something with himself in this changed theme.

"Coming up with plans, sir?" Karla's approaching voice was coming up a brief stairway which led to his elevated desk area. "Schemes and strategies and the like?" Her tone had the subtle inflection of lightheartedness.

He smiled, slightly at this, his back still to her. "Always."

"We identified the mole. It was Marchen."

"How do you know?"

"I had several suspects followed. Everybody sent to follow Doctor Marchen was killed."

He tsked, shaking his head. "That's a damn shame. I was told the Chronos would still be in early Beta if not for his contributions."

"No doubt he knew about our plans for the Princess and had… ethical objections." She'd taken a seat against the wall off from his desk, crossing her legs.

"What's another war, weighed against the march of Progress?" He said this naturally, calmly with a secure certainty. "The Daelaam might delay and deliberate, but ultimately they'd enter the war on our side. The Swarm is not a serious threat, and their princess is not untouchable. Doctor Marchen's failure to grasp that is just that: a failure."

"Our best operatives are watching the Palace, Embassy and every single Starport around the clock. If she appears near these places, they'll shoot to kill."

"If any other avenue of escape is discovered, I expect it will be checked as well."

"Of course." Karla nodded. "We should assume the Princess knows everything Marchen knows. And once she knows about the Olympus Facility and the Chronos, she'll opt to destroy it."

"And she'll do it the only way she knows how: Attacking it with an army." He was shaking his head lightly.

"Zerg are predictable creatures." She added. "Should we call in our heavies to repel her attack?"

Instead of answering, Kuraski asked a new question. "What action has the Emperor taken?"

"Our spies report that Admiral Horner has hired a mercenary group: The Viper Dragoons, led by a man named Dehaka to find and retrieve her."

He turned around, looking her way. "Then there's no need to call in the heavies, at least not yet. Leak some information to this… Dehaka; let him know about the princess' attack on the Olympus Facility without mentioning the facility itself or its purpose."

She stood. "I'll get right on that. As soon as we've deduced the timing of her attack, we'll leak the information to him."

"The biggest variable is the mercenaries successfully retrieving her. If this happens…" His look was intent; expecting.

She had an expression whose bloodthirstiness and focus could not be hidden. "I'll see to it myself."

The Present

Dehaka was injured pretty bad before he got out of the line of sight of my Spectre sharpshooters. Nevertheless he ran with a vitality and stamina only a Zerg could produce. A lot of his blood got on me before his wounds clotted and stopped bleeding. He'd taken a different path out of the mountains from the one used by my forces approaching the facility, and so I couldn't count on being saved by them. I was not even close to as strong as Dehaka, and he was oblivious to my attempts at clawing and hitting. Even if I could get him to let go of me so I could run, he could run me down and catch me again.

His sprint through the rocky desert under the starlit night sky was quiet and calming with air blowing past me. He approached another, distant uprising of land surrounding with broad paths cut in between. As we approached the entrance, I saw it was guarded by a squadron of mercenary Marines; these ones weren't mine.

When Dehaka approached them, they saluted and he stopped near them. "Sir!" One of them said. "Sensors pick up you're being followed. They have special ops coordination, there's no more than ten. A large conventional force is approaching further behind as well."

Dehaka growled at this. "I, have, princess. Kill them on sight."

"Couldn't we talk this out like civilized beings?" I asked aloud from being carried under his arm.

"Shut, your, mouth. Frail being." Dehaka snapped at me.

I had a snide smirk. "I'm going to have you hunted down and murdered when this is over, Dehaka. I hope you realize that."

"Contact, the Killer Snake. Deploy, Thor. Repel…" Dehaka growled as he described the order. "Pursuers."

"Aye sir." The Marine answered as Dehaka headed into the broad pass with my esteemed self still under his arm.

"How in holy hell did your ragtag outfit get a Thor?" I asked Dehaka once we were alone together again. "Even the most flexible underground markets are twitchy about trading around that kind of hardware."

"I, am, mercenary. Do not reveal…" His head shook. "Trade secrets."

"You're a real professional then, ain'cha?"

"Am only, doing, job. Collect payment." Dehaka stated. "Princess threatens… hunt, Dehaka, Kill, Dehaka…" An inhaling growl. "For doing job. Selfish princess."

My left eye found itself twitching like crazy. I had just been verbally burned by a creature who kidnapped me and couldn't construct a proper sentence to save his life. "What's the Killer Snake?"

"My, ship. You aboard… until delivery, to Admiral Horner."

"And…" I was surprised he was answering all my questions. "Why are your troops all Terran?"

"My pack… wiped out. Dehaka, nearly wiped out. Zerus, merciless place. Now mercenary."

"What's the good Admiral paying you?"

"Will, not, disclose. Private contract." We'd reached a clearing between the uprisings of stone. And here I saw a compound of buildings. Small metallic units for storing supplies, as well as larger buildings whose frames were suspended on formations of round metal feet. The place was in rapid motion as powered-armor soldiers and armored vehicles formed into battlegroups.

Above, I saw a Dropship coming down from orbit. Latched to its lower exterior was a Thor folded into transport mode.

The reality of my situation was easy to grasp. Even if my Spectres and merc forces assaulted Dehaka's base, and even of they won, I'll have been long spirited aboard Dehaka's ship in orbit, to be delivered back to Horner's ship or the Palace. With this, I shut my eyes and sent a message telepathically.

Sensing this, Dehaka stopped in the open ground of the base. He set me on my feet, holding me around the waist with a large hand as he shrieked at my face. Thinking quickly, he angled his mouth to bite off a tuft of my nerve cords.

"I'm calling them off!" I shouted before he did this, causing him to pause. "You win, dammit. I'm telling them to stand down, to let you take me."

Dehaka was still, processing this with his fingers gripping my waist with a painful tightness. "You, are calling, for truce?"

"Yes, I'm calling for a truce. Tell your people to stand down as well."

"No, more, clawing? No, more, shooting me?"

"You can take me back to your employers, I…" My eyes shut tight, with my closed fists shaking. "I won't resist anymore."

More long seconds, and Dehaka's grip relaxed, slowly, and he eventually let go of me. "Have broadcasted, order. Warriors, standing down."

"I've done the same." I said.

"No fighting, cuts expenses. Grateful."

"Let's go then." I walked on my own, with Dehaka right behind me to the side. As we traversed the base area, he directed me toward a landed dropship, its ramp open. As we walked, and through the miserable pit my mind felt itself within, I had to ask: "How'd you broadcast an order without talking or using telepathy?" Primal Zerg were about as telepathic as a hedgehog with a nail in its head.

"Cybernetic, brain implant. Connected…" His voice graveled a bit, wagging his naturally helmeted head, "to radio band. Efficient."

"That's…" I was surprised. We were nearing the dropship. "Actually a wonderful idea." Probably the most frustrating thing about leading human forces was the need to communicate what I wanted vocally; doing it straight from my brain to the comms would bring it much closer to my comfort zone. Dehaka was a sucky jerk, but he could occasionally stumble on a good idea.

Karla Simmons had changed to a dark ops suit, carrying a gun which occupied a middle ground in size between a sawed-off shotgun and a heavy pistol. She'd observed the Princess' infiltration of the Olympus Facility, built inside the cluster of mountains around 60 kilometers from the City Limits. She watched this happen, doing nothing to intervene. They'd made a good effort to remain undetected, but she also detected at least ten cloaked operatives whom accompanied the Zerg Princess. The miniscule night staff of the facility were easily overtaken; GenTek had done nothing to bolster the guard at the place they knew would be a target.

More pieces entered the board; a sizable mercenary force on Saraslha's payroll was coming up the northwest pass, and the giant main doors of the facility were opened, revealing a deserted main floor.

And then, just on time, Dehaka appeared. Karla was surprised to detect him approaching the facility on his own, and then even more so to see, with her own eyes from her hidden spot overlooking the sandy front yard, that he wasn't a human; he was a Zerg, of a classification she'd never seen or studied before. The Viper Dragoons' profile said nothing of their leader being an inhuman beast. Her plan to snipe him and spark a battle if it didn't escalate on its own had become complicated.

But he managed to do what he was leaked the information to do nonetheless. He'd come several steps through the main entrance, and was speaking to somebody just out of Karla's field of vision. After only a minute, he'd grabbed something and run outside. Under his arm was none other than the Zerg Princess herself. Dehaka was shot from inside the building; a perfect center which went through his body, but still he kept running. More bullets came and struck him, but it was not enough to even slow him down.

Karla had no way of knowing a bullet would be enough to kill the Princess either. The knowledge that Saraslha had defeated a Hybrid prompted her to take zero chances. She had a prototype handheld bomb that, while expensive, GenTek's R&D weapons division assured her could disintegrate a Torrasque strain Ultralisk beyond the ability to regenerate. This meant it would more than disintegrate a little princess.

Dehaka was fast, and Karla flew into motion, tracking his path from the upper high ground. The terrain was uneven and laden with protrusions, but this would not slow her. She sprinted through the angled, jagged terrain, angling each high-impact step to propel herself forward and remain upright within fractions of seconds. Small rings around her lower legs, fitted with micro propulsion motors made her lighter, and gave her steps more force. The terrain which ordinary people would opt to go around or climb through carefully flew past her. Her vision was augmented by a worn visor, and the two unique bio signatures did not pull far ahead.

Karla primed her bomb as she reached a span of more level terrain on the elevated ground. Here she sprinted even faster. The injured Zerg lugging a complaintive girl through the low ground could not keep ahead of her forever, even though it wasn't aware of her presence. The range came close enough, and she was ready to toss and detonate the bomb, to kill both Dehaka and the Princess just as they were reaching open plains out from the pass.

And then pain. A bullet had found its way through the right side of her chest, just off from her center of mass. The sound of the gunshot was audible the next instant, bullets traveling faster than sound. The angle of the throw was disjointed, and she held onto the bomb and wouldn't detonate it. The armor plating beneath her ops suit only blocked the bullet enough to keep it exploding the entire right half of her torso; it still went through and came out the other side.

She fell to the ground in a forced spinning motion. And then instinct kicked in, raging instinct. Her still functional legs kicked a protruding rock ahead of them, and assisted by their micro propulsion motors it shot her sliding across the ground into cover behind a larger protrusion of stone, out of the line of fire of where she instinctively knew the shooter was.

A more thorough scan of the other side of the rock cover revealed the shooter to be a cloaked Spectre. She'd run right past him and didn't notice, and he'd seized on the opportunity and got a shot in. Karla pulled a tiny syringe from a case on her belt and injected herself in the neck. The medication would chemically react with her blood and oxygenate it, lowering the need to breathe; her right lung had been completely compromised, and she couldn't use it.

The Spectre was approaching, calmly out of the reasonable assumption that whatever life signs he detected were her last clinging moments. A new, much tinier grenade was in her hand, which she calmly slid the pin out of with a hand and teeth.

The Spectre was right next to the rock she lay behind. The grenade came up into the air and exploded in a blinding flash and deafeningly loud noise. Karla shot out of cover from the side, hunkered down as much as possible while remaining on her feet. She charged the disoriented Spectre.

And was met with the Spectre's melee weapon; a 60-centimeter blade which he slashed into her neck. It missed, and within the same second she was leaned away from him, her heavy handgun was out, its barrel concealed under her other arm. It fired.

The Spectre's left arm was blown clean off as he fell backward onto the ground, dropping his blade with the severed arm, and his rifle fell close to his still attached arm. Karla, still on her feet with a bullet hole in her chest, kicked the gun away from the Spectre and knelt down near him, her knee on his remaining arm. "You cost me my mark you son of a bitch!" Dehaka was long gone back to his base with Saraslha. Karla pulled a new syringe from her case and stuck the Spectre with it; an extreme sedative, which would slow his heartbeat to near nothing and keep him bleeding out from the severed arm. As the downed Spectre lost consciousness, she saw his mouth shift to an irregular jaw position.

"Sorry, friend." Yet another new field syringe, which she stuck him with. "Crunching a poison pill isn't going to save you from capture. I'm not coming out of this with nothing." The syringe as an antitoxin, which would mitigate the poison into survivability. All the Spectre had done was submit himself to long nights of diarrhea and vomiting.

With the adrenalin of the fight over, and the Spectre subdued, Karla sat on the ground, resisting the urge to take large breaths. "This is Simmons." She spoke into an ear-implanted communicator. "I need immediate medivac. Myself with chest wound, and one prisoner with amputated arm."

Saraslha

I was seated calmly off to the side of the dropship's hold. It had lifted off, and Dehaka was sitting across from me. He didn't speak, and I was in no mood to speak. Dehaka would take me back to his ship in orbit, and then turn me over to Admiral Horner at some scheduled time. It was over and I had lost. There was no way I could prosecute Kuraski without proof, and I couldn't well attack his assets with a Swarm army; it'd be an act of war against the Dominion. It was just… such a sucky night. I leaned forward, sagging.

"…My Princess. Are you aboard that dropship? I sense you."

With my nerve cords mostly healed, I heard Rindell's voice. My eyes became beads. I wanted to reply, but doing it so close to Dehaka would cause him to pick it up; he wouldn't know what I was saying, but he would detect the psionic emanations coming out of my cords. "Yes, it's me Rindell. I'm a prisoner. How are you contacting me?" Dehaka's head perked up, and he was leering at me. "How did you get out of jail?"

"I'm out on bail, and my trial date is next week. Be calm my Princess. You will be safe soon."

A second later, and the ship jerked and angled forcefully. "I've lost engine three!" The pilot reported through the hold's intercom. "We're losing altitude."

Growling, Dehaka shot to his feet, walking toward the ladder which led up into the cockpit. "Land, as close, to base as possible!" his voice directed up through the cockpit hatch left open.

"We're going down fast. Hang onto something down there!" The pilot said.

The crash came much faster than I was mentally ready to process. The metal of the ship rang with impact and the kinetic force of the landing vibrated its way through my entire body. I fell out of my seat and bounced around on the floor a bit. Dehaka lost his grip on the ladder and bounced around in a rolling trajectory. His head landed on the floor and he let out a distressed yelping noise. Even in the excitement I grinned in amusement at this; Dehaka getting hurt was solid gold entertainment for my refined self.

The dropship lost speed as it plowed through the dry desert ground. When it finally came to a stop, it teetered to a leaned back position. "Whew!" The intercom said in the voice of an unhurt pilot. "Anyone alive down there?"

The big blue bastard was back on his feet, heading toward the boarding hatch. "Open, hold." He ordered. When the large hold door opened, right outside, standing on the dry nighttime desert ground was Broodmother Rindell, and right next to her, leaning forward on two hind feet, was a Cryolisk.

No questions asked. The Cryolisk blasted Dehaka, freezing him solid. I was still lain down from the crash, a tad disoriented. Rindell came up the ramp into the hold. She saw me, came over, and picked me up in her arms. I didn't raise an objection as she carried me outside.

As she walked silently, I looked back at the crash-landed dropship and saw ice formed around one of its rear engines. It had been precision-shot by the Cryolisk and made to seize up. I looked Rindell in the eyes while I was still cradled in her arms. The ship had crashed kilometers from Dehaka's base. "I… I can walk, you know." I said weakly.

"I know."

A simpering smile? Tears? A bombastic expression of joy at being rescued? No, as the reality of what she'd done for me sank in, and with no further griping at being carried, I hugged Rindell tightly around the neck. No words were necessary.