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Masterminds & Comets
The tale of the Koprulu Sector unfucking itself
Date: 2508.08.09
Location: Tarsonis, high orbit, aboard the Bucephalus
Time: Morning
As he waited for the rest of the guests, Emperor Valerian Mengsk surveyed the room he was in. A rather historical one, as the years marched on. This was where he first met James Raynor, the legendary vigilantee. This was where he revealed his plans to become a worthy successor to his father, the late Arcturus Mengsk. This room was witness to many historical events, great and small. Valerian wondered if he should retire the Bucephalus as the flagship of the Dominion Fleet, and make it his own chariot between the stars, with himself as a Santa Claus of history.
The young man smiled to himself. Were he the son of another man, he would probably be very near to becoming that. He might even join Nabiros on his adventures, as they traveled across the length and breadth of the Koprulu sector, unearthing archeological and scientific wonders that would reshape the future of this war-torn corner of the galaxy.
And yet, he was born the son of Arcturus Mengsk, the most charismatic and ruthless dictator in recent history, who cast a shadow that reached far beyond his grave. It put the mantle of Emperor on his shoulders without any regard for what he wanted.
That was not entirely true. Valerian knew himself too well to fall for the fallacies of his ego. He was a soft, caring person, born into a world drowning in petty conflicts, which later escalated to genocidal wars the likes of which humanity has never experienced. Fortunately, he was also determined and ambitious, and although it was a brutal and uncompromising gauntlet, his years up until now have shaped him into a two-faced man: one side cold, calculating, and efficient; the other benevolent and dedicated to a better future. Lesser men would have died in that gauntlet, and even decent men would have buckled and took one or the other side as their master. Not him.
He was the son of Arcturus Mengsk, the man who pulled humanity out of the fire and fangs of the Protoss and the Zerg, and through that purgatory forged a unified, strong Terran Dominion. Excellence was not enough. His father, however selfish and xenophobic he was, became an icon, a symbol of iron will overcoming any difficulty. His son will not let such a symbol perish beneath the boot of the vengeful and the short-sighted. Not only because he himself had to become the next symbol of humanity, but because his people must remember, must see that there is great potential in them, that there is nothing that cannot be accomplished with discipline, unity, and clarity.
The man who entered the room was both similar and completely different. Hierarch Artanis, on one hand, also sought unity between the various cultures of his race, as well as between the species of the sector. On the other hand, he was like the warrior-kings of ancient Earth, proud and noble, but still a warrior in the end, who had a... distinct mindset on how problems should be solved.
To Valerian, Artanis was a terrifying combination of Genghis Khan and Tokugawa Ieyasu, but without the bad press, which made it all the more impressive and worrying. If one would care to look past his nobility and his pursuit of a better future, Artanis united his people with an iron fist, and eradicated his opposition in the most absolute way possible. He did not unite the various Protoss factions because they wanted to, but because he needed them to. Protoss internal affairs were mostly unknown to outsiders, but what little information he had suggested that there was no sign of the factions trying to split up, now that the mutual threat that Amon had presented was gone. The Hierarch ran a tight ship.
He wondered if Artanis used some form of psionic mind control, but after having met him personally, he realised that the Hierarch was beyond the concept of "self-confident". He radiated facts, and each time he spoke with other Protoss, it seemed he was explaining something obvious, and everyone else just needed a friendly reminder. He meant no threat and so the others perceived none, keeping the mood positive despite his absolute dominance of the discussion. Valerian wondered if Artanis was aware of the effect he was having on his people, but if he was, he gave no sign of it. Other Protoss talked to him like he was the ultimate fountainhead of power and authority, whose orders they obeyed not because of servitude or coercion, but because they knew it was the best course of action, be the task great or small.
Artanis' powerful presence was a refreshing challenge after his father's aura that distorted reality to the point that whatever he said made sense. Valerian
resolved to be the equal of Artanis, to be the Augustus and Bismarck to his Temudjin and Ieyasu. Either that, or the Terran Dominion would never become the equal of the Daelaam. Valerian felt offended by the mere notion. Humanity wasn't excellent, considering the gap between its aspirations and its average day, but by the skin of its teeth it could crawl forward, beaten and broken, but always rebuilt, always wiser than before.
The duo that entered the room after Artanis were the main source of Valerian's worries. Alexei Stukov was a formidable man when he was a mere mortal, but the infestation that should have been his second death became his ascension, into a being he did not understand completely. From what little he knew about his character before his death, Stukov used to be a lot more stiff when not with friends, and a bit of an authoritarian. Now he walked with the casual stride of those who have seen too much to care about shows of strength, and with a relaxed self-confidence that made him look friendly for a nightmarish infested. Valerian knew from experience that the source of self-confidence was conviction, trust in your abilities to pull through under the given circumstances, or a deep understanding of the unfolding events that gives you enough control over it to succeed. What he didn't know were the details of Stukov's conviction, that allowed him to act so casually with people who would sleep much easier if he and his new people would not exist. That's no small feat.
Speaking of things not small, Valerian never met Zagara in person. She stood just a little shorter than Artanis but she still had an imposing presence. Valerian felt a little embarrassed for a moment that he was the shortest among them, but then he reminded himself that being shorter than a Protoss, a Broodmother, and an infested Terran is perfectly fine. What was less amusing was his lack of understanding of Zagara's character. She was a Zerg, which meant nothing good; a Broomother, which made everything a thousand times worse; and Kerrigan's chosen successor of the Swarm, which is as good as a tenure at terror: a recognition of ability, true, but said ability revolves around genocide and horrible things in general. A lack of enthusiasm toward someone with such pedigree at a diplomatic meeting was to be expected. Valerian really wanted to know what Zagara wanted, what were her goals, and how did the Swarm work under her leadership. It was time to find out.
"Welcome." Valerian greeted his guests. "I'm glad you could come, Queen Zagara."
"There is no need for formality." Stukov cut in with a little smile. "The Zerg have no use for it."
"That is true." Zagara didn't seem to care one way or the other. "But do not call me Queen. There is only one Queen, and while she trusted the Swarm to me, it is still hers to lead whenever she chooses to." Artanis and Valerian looked at her in shock.
"Kerrigan yet lives?" Artanis asked in disbelief.
"We would have felt her death." Zagara sounded like she was explaining the obvious. "We do not know where she is or what she is doing, but we know she is alive."
"That certainly... complicates things." Valerian's mind was abuzz trying to deal with this new piece of information.
"We do not expect Kerrigan to show up anytime soon." Stukov said helpfully. "She only recently ascended to Xel'naga, she's probably busy getting used to it. Besides, if I were her, I'd take a brake of this sector for a while. A long, long while."
"That's reassuring, if still somewhat uncomfortable." Valerian deeply hoped that Kerrigan would not visit in his lifetime. The Swarm was already a major problem, they didn't need a patron goddess supporting them. Although...
"What news of the Explorers?" Stukov switched topics to save everyone from further awkwardness. When he saw that the others didn't catch his meaning, he corrected himself. "Nabiros and his crew?"
Valerian's expression turned worried a little. "One of them was severely injured, she is on a medical ship. The rest of the team is there as well, waiting for the results of the surgery."
"You mean Valerie, right?" Stukov seemed genuinely concerned. "How bad is it?"
"A psi blade wound from the right shoulder down to the hip." Valerian made a mental note to ask Konrad about their relationship with Stukov. "It cut through the bones but fortunately no internal organs were damaged. Nabiros put her in a stasis cell when she got injured. The Spear of Adun boarded the carrier, put Valerie in a mobile stasis pod, then brought her and the others to the medical ship that arrived just minutes before to build a field hospital for our soldiers."
"Truly, fate was with them." Artanis was proud of them. "It might be typical of them to succeed in accomplishing the impossible but it never ceases to amaze me."
"Yes, that was quite the stunt they pulled." Stukov nodded in appriciation. "We would like to thank them personally for their help. Without them that carrier would have slammed into Char and blew half of it to oblivion. We owe them that much."
"I still don't understand why they did it." Zagara seemed curious. "Let us know when we can talk to them."
"As you wish." Valerian saw this as his cue. "It seems that we are all interested in understanding one another."
"The Zerg have little experience with generosity." Stukov chuckled.
"You seem to have a point, Valerian." Artanis' voice was friendly, but Valerian took it as a warning to say his mind in the presence of powerful psykers.
"I want peace in this sector." Valerian said flatly. "To that end, we must be open with each other about our goals. We have a history, a history filled with bloodshed and war, but if we want to see our people prosper, we must put that behind us, and learn to live with each other as neighbours at the very least. Can we agree on that much?"
"Yes." Artanis didn't hesitate for a second.
"The Swarm has never known peace." Zagara looked like someone who knows they are making the right decision but it's still very hard for them. "We will see what it has to offer us."
"I'm glad to hear that." Valerian felt incredibly relieved but tried to show as little of it as he could. "But as we are now, we are just ignoring each other and focusing on our own affairs. If we want this peace to last, we have to be open to each other, willing to share our goals, maybe even our troubles. For example, Artanis was kind enough to send Nabiros and his crew to me, while he is preparing to help my people rebuild. I have a few ideas how to return the favour, but first I wanted to see if the Swarm could join in as well."
"You have my attention." Zagara seemed interested but not committed.
"Let's start with the obvious ones." Valerian was getting excited. He hoped he wasn't showing too much of it. "We cannot yet say for certain that the sector is rid of Amon's hybrid and other minions. If our militaries could focus on that instead of watching their backs for an invasion, we could secure the sector faster and more thoroughly." three quick nods meant that he could continue. "We should also remember the UED. We have no information on the size and state of their empire. For all we know, they have sent the majority of their army during the Brood War. For all we know, they have a new fleet twice as big ready to invade."
"For all we know, they are terrified of us." Zagara said with glee.
"That would be best." Valerian nodded in agreement. "But whatever else we choose to do, we must agree that should the UED invade the sector again we will stand united against them." three quick nods again, thankfully. "I'm glad we agree."
"It would be foolish to do otherwise." Zagara's blunt honesty was pure joy for Valerian after Dominion politics. "I hope they will come. I want to see their fleets retreat in vain, like our Queen. I know it happened but I have not experienced it for myself."
Valerian noticed that Artanis turned a little grim. Kerrigan routed not only the UED's remnant fleet, but Arcturus' ragtag army and Artanis' vengeful expedition force as well. Just as he wanted to continue his cooperative to-do list, Artanis cut in.
"I would rather we sorted out our current objectives first." the Hierarch said. "Trust is earned, not agreed upon."
"Well said." Valerian cut his losses and rolled with it. "Allow me to share what intelligence our scouts have gathered on the area around the landing zone..."
Date: 2508.08.09
Location: Tarsonis, high orbit, aboard the medical ship "Pit Stop"
Time: Morning
Nabiros was aware that he probably looked like a statue to the outside observer. He had been standing there for almost 2 hours now, before the emergency room the Terrans brought Valerie to. It was an easy way to reassure the crew that he was just waiting for the surgery's results. A little unauthorised research on a nearby terminal revealed that this ship was part of a larger mercenary group until recently. The leader of the group sold them to the Dominion military and then disappeared with the money, probably to retire to a colony where nobody knew him by reputation or cared much. 'Going legit', as a number of illegally accessed journals put it, was a welcome change after the uncertainty of mercenary life, especially among the veterans who were developing a desire to settle down and raise a family. Until then, the mercenaries manned their original ships and life went on with little change. Some even wore uniform.
The ship itself was a flying brick. It was a medium transport originally, ferrying goods between planets for profit, until the mercs 'acquired' it and, in a rare moment of inspiration, turned it into a medical ship (they thought the new name was funny but Nabiros couldn't find out why). To them, that meant putting ridiculous amounts of armour plating on it, creating a small dock for swift and agile troop transports that brought the injured to the ship, a fat power core and warp drive to allow initiating warp jump faster, and filling the rest of the empty space with the best medical tech they could get their hands on. While the rest of the ship looked old and held together by the crew's stubbornness and dedication, the medical wing was pristine, though the doctors and nurses still looked like peacocks in their colourful and decorated clothes and bodies. Nabiros was certain that he was missing key information to understand these people, but they still looked like Terrans trying to out-colour rainbows.
He offered to help with the surgery, citing his knowledge of most everything involved (as far as he was aware), but the surgeon declined, saying 'I'm not gonna tell you how to do orbital bombardments, you're not gonna tell me how to patch up people', then she marched off, revealing the back of her pink lab coat, which had an almost naked Terran woman in a probably enticing pose in black and white, circled by the words 'The Louder You Scream The Faster I'll Come" in black.
And these people were responsible for Valerie's fate.
Nabiros tried to divert his attention by thinking of the rest of his crew. While their ship was being repaired, they were offered temporary accomodations on the Spear of Adun. He told them to get combat ready as soon as possible, then left them to take Valerie's stasis pod to the Terran medical ship. Konrad is probably in a forge, trying to negotiate repairs for his suit's legs. Hecate is still unconscious, otherwise it would have been waiting for Valerie with Nabiros. Tekka... he hoped she was helping Hecate recover, but Valerie's injury hit her hard. Frankly, Nabiros had no idea why she cared so much. Some concern out of politeness or camaraderie would have been his estimate of her reaction. Something must have happened between them that he wasn't aware of. As much as she tried to appear beyond the reach of harm, Tekka still had plenty of vulnerable spots - which Valerie hit with suspsicous precision. Something to talk about when she is healed. If she is healed.
The door opened with a hiss. It was the surgeon in the pink lab coat.
"Hey, big guy!" she called out to him, the door closing behind her.
"What news do you bring?" Nabiros asked as he walked to her.
"Your friend is badly hurt but she'll live." the surgeon started rolling her shoulders, probably as a form of exercise. "She's gonna be out cold for a few days, and once we're sure everything is set to heal on its own she can leave. But no action for at least five months, and even then she'll be out of shape."
"It will take half a year for her to recover?" Nabiros wasn't aware that Terran regeneration and medicine was so ineffective.
"If you Protoss have a fast forward button then give it a try, by all means." the woman shrugged. "I hear the Zerg are pretty good at regeneration, as long as you can ignore the infestation part."
"... I see." Nabiros quietly concluded that this cannot stand. "Thank you for your work. I will leave her to your care."
"Just another day at the office." the woman grinned with apparent exhaustion.
Nabiros bowed his head slightly, then left to return to the Spear of Adun. He wanted to make sure no undue modifications were made to his ship, not after all the time he invested into adjusting it to his own needs or that of his crew. He didn't want to have to explain that centuries of Protoss technological advancement have been put to use to create a low-maintenance, low-demand garbage disposal unit. If they found out that they were also used to handle the by-products of the Terrans' metabolism they would throw him into the Arkship's solar core. Nabiros grunted: these phase-smiths have never designed a zoological research ship before. They would have died in horror and disgust at the amount of fecal matter produced by hundreds of large specimens on a daily basis. Routine truly is the bane of mastery.