James

Jim stared out from the safety of the Kel-Morian Combine space station Icarus-8 into the emptiness of space. The array of stars, wandering asteroids, and splendid gases all twisted and danced before him, though in truth they only barely held his attention. Jim lifted his arm, brought the flask of liquor to his questing lips. When he lowered the flask again, he swirled it and noticed it was almost empty already. A pity. Jim couldn't sleep, so he drank. It helped dim the images of mushroom clouds and the rushing onslaught of ravenous zerg. Magistrate didn't rescue everyone. I don't think he even rescued all of me, even.

When they had jumped, Jim had no idea where they were headed, or what would happen when they got there. He hadn't been surprised to arrive in KMC space; they were the only faction that could properly oppose Mengsk and Duke at this time. This still didn't mean he was enthused about being there, either. Bunch of slavers and Vespene barons, sittin' on top of a pile of money and enslaved children. Least they ain't been messin' around with zerg, far as I know.

The arrangements to dock had been made by Harper. The man had apparently made prior arrangements with the gentlemen in charge of the station, and they accepted an additional ship with a word of complaint. When they had learned that it was the Alpha Squadron flagship that was docking, they had in fact made numerous offers to both Jim and Harper for the purchase of the ship. Not ungenerous offers, neither.

As it stood, however, both had to refuse. Having just made enemies with Mengsk, the man who had just wiped out Tarsonis and likely become the most powerful man in the Sector, they felt they could use every ship they had.

Since then, Jim had mostly been left to wait and recover. The surviving crew of Norad II were comprised of numerous wounded men and women, aliens and terran alike. They needed time to heal from their physical and psychological wounds, and Harper needed time to make further arrangements with old contacts. Heh. When he first signed on as Magistrate, I wondered if he knew about my checkered past. Now I know that was the least of his concerns; he's been fighting all over the sector.

"Jim," said someone behind him. Kerrigan. They hadn't met much over the last few days. Jim had been content to either brood in his cabin (Duke's old quarters) or drink on the space station. Matt was busy overseeing repairs. Kerrigan spent most of her time on a computer, trying to gain access to old ghost databanks that were likely no longer protected by anything other than automated systems since the Fall. He didn't see much reason to bother her, or anybody.

"Hey darlin'," said Jim, not turning around. "I know this ain't healthy, but just give me another day of this. Seen too many planets burnin' these last few weeks."

"If you say so," said Kerrigan, suddenly appearing at his side without making a sound, almost like…a ghost. He spared her a glance, noted with surprise that she had finally dressed down into civvies. Heh. Probably sick of wearing skintight gear. "Managed to crack through the ice, finally. I was right, there was no one on the other end anymore. Got access to some cash reserves, locations of a few safehouses, and schematics for some implants. Can only really use the cash, but still... enlightening, I guess. Sitting on two and a half million credits."

"That's nice," said Jim, chugging what was left of the flask. He gasped, smacked his lips, and stashed it back in one of his back pockets. "Heh. Don't rightly know what my parents would have said if they saw that money. Or what they'd do with it. They never really left Shiloh." He looked up again, through the glass, into the heavens. "But here I am. Rebellions gone wrong, aliens everywhere, now I'm rich. Well… we're rich."

"Not exactly rich," said Kerrigan, sounding a little amused. "Repairs, fuel, and maintenance come with pretty impressive price tags, Jim. We could burn through that money pretty easily."

"Yeah," said Jim, wishing the flask wasn't empty. "Glad we made it." He looked to Kerrigan, lips twitching, but unable to properly smile. "That it?"

"Harper wants us," said Kerrigan. "He's back from Moria, waiting aboard Undertaker. He figured we'd have some questions for him… and he says he has one for us as well. You up to it?"

"This ain't the hard stuff," said Jim, turning on his heel before pausing, letting Kerrigan lead the way. "You've read his mind, right? Any idea what exactly Cerberus is?"

"He's had training Jim," said Kerrigan, keeping a steady pace and not looking back. "I can't press too hard, or he'll suffer brain damage. They're definitely black ops. Arcturus mentioned that they were sent into Morian space during the Guild Wars for, as he put it "less than gentlemanly operations.""

"I don't need to hear that man quoted," said Jim, voice hard. "Only thing I want to hear from his lips are screams."

"I just thought it was a good quote," said Sarah, a little defensive. "Anyway, Cerberus ops were usually high risk, low body count, but plenty of collateral damage. They were responsible for the deaths of several prominent military officials, a handful of mercenary bands, refineries blowing up… that kind of thing."

"Hushing up alien activity, too," said Jim, thinking. "Got to speak to one of them briefly, back on Mar Sara. They were fighting the zerg, maybe the protoss. Didn't say much, though. Ghost files say anything about them?"

"No," said Kerrigan. "I got the impression that there were few, if any ghosts in Cerberus. No re-soc either. The Confederacy made it a point to only use volunteers."

"How humane of them," said Jim, warily eyeing the few other people that walked by them as they made for Undertaker's docking tube. We're wanted men and women now, right? Could be a bounty.

"Mengsk doesn't have time for us just yet, Jim," said Kerrigan. "I'm sure of it. He's got an empire to create."

"Yeah, and a couple billion graves to piss on," said Jim bitterly. "Wonder how many nukes it took afterward to neutralize the zerg? Harper said it took twenty-six just for New Gettysburg."

Sarah didn't respond, but Jim hadn't really wanted her to. Can't save everyone Jim… heh. Let me just feel guilty about that instead of trying.

A pair of marines in advanced looking white and gold armor saluted as they approached, visors down. The one on the left hit the door panel, letting the tube doors hiss open.

"He's waiting for you," said the marine on the right. "Kerrigan, right? Confederacy had quite a file on you. If half of it is true, I don't need to give you directions."

"No," said Kerrigan. "You don't." She strode past them without another word, leaving Jim to give the two of them an acknowledging nod and a muttered thank you before proceeding. Their boots clanked against the rough floor of the docking tube, leaving Jim to note that it was far more worn and far less gaudy than Norad II's. I remember Duke's comment about Harper's office. Guess he was all about presentation, even down to the docking tube.

The other end of the tube opened before they even touched the panel. A dark skinned man in ghost armor and wearing a red beret waited on the other side, smiling brightly at them as they approached.

"A warm welcome to you, Lieutenant, Captain. Harper waits in his quarters." The man raised his eyebrows. "However… ah. Lieutenant Kerrigan. Forgive me, I am a recent addition to Cerberus, post Mengsk's… recent disgraceful behavior. I never had the clearance to learn of you. You know where to go already, I suspect."

"You suspect correctly," said Kerrigan, nodding. "But thank you."

The ghost nodded again, smiling and bowing slightly, and then retreated out of view. Jim followed Kerrigan to the lift, looking at his surroundings.

Compared to his own bridge, Undertaker's design was far more utilitarian, and considerably less decadent. The edges of surfaces looked sharp and angular, the seats designed purely for efficiency, and all of the crew looked hard and worn. Guess I made the right decision, never gunning for special forces. This don't look like no fun.

The crew uniforms that he saw were all likewise distinctly drab – simple mixtures of white and black, a small gold insignia on the right arm. Huh. Their marines are more stylish than the rest of the ship combined.

The lift arrived and the doors opened, revealing an empty interior. Jim and Kerrigan entered and stood, facing the wall and engaging in the time-honored tradition of not talking to each other at all while riding it. When they reached the captain's quarters, Jim took a deep breath. Got a suspicion that this is going to be a heavy conversation. Probably a long one, too.

The two walked into the captain's quarters, which surprised Jim in the simple fact that it looked like it was actually designed with comfort in mind. Unlike the rest of the ship. The floor was red rug, there was a large aquarium with several brightly colored fish swimming around inside, and it came equipped with its own chrome-plated bathroom and a spacious office area.

Jack Harper was sitting in that office, staring up at them with a small smile, a small computer in front of him. He had left two chairs in front of the desk for them and beckoned them to sit. Sarah and Jim did so, Jim again quietly muttering thanks. Harper turned his neck to each side once, cracking it each time before speaking.

"Raynor. Kerrigan. My apologies about leaving you on this godforsaken station, but I needed to speak to some KMC officials, give them the entire story. I trust the administrators of this ship have proven themselves hospitable to their guests?" He reached into his desk, removing an already opened bottle of hard liquor and a few glasses. Jim watched him twist off the cap and begin to pour, eyes narrowed in concentration.

"They left us alone," said Kerrigan, "and they've been covering Jim's bar tab, so they may as well be saints, as far as I can see."

"Drinking to forget, Captain?" asked Harper, finishing the last glass before neatly putting the cap back in place. "I understand. But I recommend holding off on this glass until after what I show you – you'll need it."

Harper tapped a few keys on his keyboard before turning the monitor around. An online video of a UNN clip was beginning to play, and Harper left his seat to stand behind the two of them as the UNN signature jingle began to play. On the screen was a billowing Korhal flag and a few simple words displayed on the bottom of the screen.

Coronation of Arcturus I, Emperor of the Terran Dominion

Terran Dominion Throne World Korhal

"Aw, hell," muttered Jim as triumphant brass instruments began to play.

"My fellow terrans," came the smooth voice of the man Jim had sworn to kill. "I come to you in light of this recent tragedy to offer consolation and vengeance. Let no man deny the tumultuous nature of our times."

"Where once we stood confident in the fact that we alone were the dominant species among these stars, now there is only confusion and peril. Our faith and our preconceptions have been shattered, while our long-held certainty in the power of terran ingenuity and the human spirit are likewise being strenuously tested." Jim winced as a satellite image of Tarsonis as it stood now was displayed. The planet now looked positively deformed from the sheer amount of explosive ordinance it had borne witness to with its fall.

"The destruction of Tarsonis was sudden, violent. The message the planet's death carried was as stark as the faces of the few survivors we recovered from the smoking ruins. No longer could we hold the assumption that unseen political figures in smoky backrooms could protect us. The Confederacy is no more. The vaunted oligarchy that proved its dominance time and time again in the Guild Wars has been undone. The first and greatest civilization born of the prison ships has been dismantled. In its ashes, the alien invaders stand poised to make the greatest gains yet of their rampage. We have seen firsthand our homes destroyed by the belligerent protoss. Watched our families twisted and mutilated by the unending Zerg Swarm. And now, the people you thought you could turn to for protection are dead. Their decadent ways and promises of security mean nothing."

"I am here to give you a new promise. One that I assure you bears weight that far surpasses anything the Old Families could have offered."

The images being presented were mostly comprised of Korhal's recent military gains – Confederate ships flying triumphantly after having been repainted with the arm and whip of the Sons.

"No," moaned Jim, causing Sarah to briefly glance toward him before refocusing on the screen. "How the hell can he get away with this?"

"While the zerg and protoss have torn our worlds apart for their own twisted gains, others have stood alongside me in my long war against oppression and corruption. Some vaunted few have traversed the treacherous stars and made friendly contact. They stood proudly alongside the Sons as we contested the brutal ways of the Confederacy. They made numerous sacrifices on Tarsonis, where their fleets bore the brunt of the zerg onslaught, their bravery buying many the precious time they needed to flee. They remain still, wounded yet unyielding, ready and willing to do anything to repulse the invaders that harry us."

"The Confederacy died as it stood; alone, bereft of allies to call on. The Sons have survived, partially through our own strengths, but also through the strengths of the Council, that allied body of aliens that stood against tyranny when they had little to gain from it. I have survived, despite the Armageddon that once desolated my homeworld, despite the murder of my family. And I say here, now, that the time for fear is over. The Terran Dominion is come."

"Here we go…" muttered Kerrigan.

"Let us stand together, the terran race, in the face of this fresh horror. Let us not cower, trembling in the face of the encroaching dark, alone and afraid. Let us not fear the stars we have been thrust into, now that we find ourselves among other galactic inhabitants. Let us go forth, bravely and assuredly into the galactic community."

"The time has come for us to rally under a new banner, one that we know for certain has the strength and the connections to survive what the Confederacy could not. The terran people can no longer turn on one another when we are beset on all sides by those who have no concept of mercy. The time has come to forge ourselves into a nation mightier than any that has graced this sector before, one that capitulates to only a single, almighty throne."

"And from that throne… I shall watch over you."

"There are promises to be kept. There are aliens to whom we owe a most grievous debt of vengeance. And the Citadel and its Council awaits us, the proud terran people. The people of the Dominion. We will recover, my fellow terrans. We will survive. And once this crisis has abated, beaten back by our martial prowess and singular devotion to unity, we will find new prosperity in these now opened stars."

The images finished with a zooming shot of a resplendent skyscraper in Korhal's solely rebuilt city of New Augustgrad, Korhal banners waving proudly in the presumably radioactive breeze. The music was brought to a halt, and the video stopped. Silence followed its conclusion.

"I was initially surprised that he continued to refer to the Council races favorably," said Harper at last. "I was certain that he would have turned upon them immediately following his establishing dominance over what was left of the Confederate military. I must confess, I have never been particularly gifted at predicting that man's actions. But I think I know what he is doing this time. He sent Saren to plant the emitter, did he not?"

"Yes," said Jim through gritted teeth, his knuckles white as he gripped the sides of his seat. "Saren was the one."

"Yes, I suspected," said Harper, returning to his chair and raising one of the glasses. Jim promptly grabbed his own and downed it, relishing the burn. "He didn't want to lose access to potentially lucrative alien markets or open himself to invasion. One of their own soldiers caused the death of a terran planet. He can hold that over them, and twist the truth in any other ways he'd like otherwise. I assume he's kept careful account of that ill-fated meeting in Hyperion."

"You're saying you don't think the Council's going to tear him a new one?" snarled Jim. "He's got another thing coming. Why the hell did he set the zerg on them in the first place?"

Harper shook his head, obviously slightly disappointed. "It should be obvious. He offered too much to the Council, deliberately I suspect. The majority of the fighting was done by them. Once the Confederacy was out of the way, he would be forced to carry through on those promises immediately." Harper swirled his glass. "In addition, I suspect his government would be subject to all manner of sanctions and regulations, and would more or less become a puppet state to those aliens. The terran race, its technologies, its people, they would be owned by the Council. Not fully, but just enough that they could have taken all they wanted from us." Harper looked at Sarah. "You're gifted with telepathy. What have you seen of the Citadel in the minds of the aliens? Of their government?"

Sarah shrugged. "Enough. The soldiers were all focused on winning the battles and going home. It was the politicians such as Benezia where I became somewhat wary. While I would not go so far as to start using words like "puppet state," there was some intended exploitation. Mengsk had given them the opportunity. I guess he was planning on stabbing them in the back from the very moment he saw the Councilor's faces."

"Good God," said Jim. "Guess you can't become a politician if you ain't a decent person. Where the hell does that leave the KMC in this? Where the hell does that leave us?"

"The KMC has been told of what transpired on Tarsonis," said Harper. "They will oppose Mengsk in any way they can… or at least, that is what they told me. I rather suspect all they will do is reinforce their borders and simply wait and see whether the Terran Dominion will survive these next few months." Harper downed his glass, winced, and made a gesture towards the third while looking at Kerrigan. Sarah shook her head. "Hmm. If the Dominion does in fact survive… well, I have offered my services."

"Not the Protectorate?" said Jim, a little surprised. "Weren't you killing these guys by the dozen a few years back?"

Harper laughed. "No, not by the dozen. We were – are, assassins and saboteurs. We destroyed materiel, killed leaders. We stole data and kidnapped scientists. That little run on Tarsonis…not our usual forte." Harper's face suddenly looked angry. "Mengsk had much the same notion as you, Jim, that I was some simple killer that sought redemption on Mar Sara. I never sought to kill innocents. My foes, yes, I killed them, sometimes brutally. I have rigged explosives that have levelled entire factories. But our philosophy was that, in changing or removing one vital person or place, the entire sector changed with it." Harper sucked in a deep breath. "So imagine the horror I felt, beyond the horror that was letting so many innocent people die at the hands of the zerg, at the prospect of an entire planet being…removed. The kind of shockwaves that would send. Mar Sara's fall flooded the Sons with allies. Tarsonis's death…" He blew out a large amount of air before shrugging. "Incalculable. It was not only evil, but reckless. Mengsk cannot hope to anticipate what will be borne of this, cannot hope to control the consequences."

"How did you escape?" asked Kerrigan suddenly. "You went missing amidst several alien fleets." Jim looked at her, and she gave a nervous laugh. "What? It's been bothering me."

Harper smiled and clasped his hands together, elbows resting atop his desk. "You may have noticed that during Cerberus Squadron's rather dramatic entrance, that Undertaker features a cloaking device. To my knowledge, it is the only battlecruiser that ever has. Cerberus Squadron was essentially sitting on the sidelines since the debacle at Mar Sara – their faith in the Confederacy was shaken, and their former leader was hitting them up for favors and suggesting they defect." Harper suddenly looked very tired. "I suppose I should be thankful they were so cautious. They had been following close by for ease of communication, as well as the ability to move in quickly and either reinforce or attack Mengsk's fleets at a moment's hesitation. I sent a message simply saying that it was time for me to leave, and then gave a few coordinates."

Harper straightened in his seat, suddenly looking proud of himself. "I took a space suit from storage, an easy feat given my clearance, and flushed myself out of the storage airlock, the one normally reserved for ejecting trash. Undertaker then towed me in, cloaked."

Jim chuckled. Harper gave him an approving nod.

"We didn't stay, however, and trying to eliminate Hyperion in a suicide attack was too risky. Petrohvsky and I tried to contact Confederate High Command, but were rebuffed. They refused to believe we were on their side; they knew Cerberus had been leaking information. Tarsonis was doomed." Harper sighed. "When the fighting started, we snuck through and retrieved the families of the crew present. I hope you do not find that selfish, Mr. Raynor."

"No," said Jim. "You made the best of what you could. How'd you come around to pick me up?"

"Petrohvsky was on the fence regarding your evacuation," said Harper. "Fortunately, we had tapped into your comms. Your declaration of wishing to stay behind at the cost of your life is what saved you. He wondered how we could have overlooked someone such as yourself while looking for recruits way back when, on the onset of the Guild Wars."

"Huh," said Jim. "Nice to see a good deed doesn't always go unnoticed, I guess. Thank you. For me… and Kerrigan. Everybody."

"Yes," said Kerrigan. "I'm not surprised too often, Mr. Harper, but you've managed it a few times now. What's your next move?"

"Recruitment," said Harper. "Haggling. We need funding. We need people. The Confederacy is dead, but Cerberus lives on. We will be the specter that haunts the Dominion, and if necessary, their new alien allies. Tarsonis cannot be forgotten. It cannot be forgiven. It will be recognized, and those responsible will be brought to justice. Those who seek to obfuscate the truth will be destroyed by it." Harper's eyes were alight with a fire Jim had never seen before, and his voice was all quiet urgency. "The Dominion will fall. Mengsk will die. And if those aliens stand with him, then they too will burn. Every action has an equal and opposed reaction. Killing a planet full of people… that's a lot of action. Cerberus will be the reaction."

Jim looked to Sarah, whose face betrayed not a hint of emotion. Her nose twitched once.

"You sound a bit like Arcturus," said Kerrigan calmly. "He, too, sought justice for a dead planet."

Harper laughed again, but this time there was no humor in it. His eyes burned and he stared at Kerrigan with such intensity that Jim shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

"A bold statement," he said clasping his hands again, his voice low. "But I am not using the Fall of Tarsonis as some flimsy pretext for trying to take control of the Koprulu Sector on some… psychopathic whim. No. My actions and intentions have always been… pure. Perhaps past the point of reason, some might say. But no. Once this is done…" Harper shrugged, grinned suddenly. "I suppose I shall become a Magistrate again." Ugh…s uddenly I've got a bad feeling about what this guy plans on doing. And I don't think anyone is going to be able to talk him out of what he's planning.

"You had a question for us," said Kerrigan, a little loudly. "What was it?"

"I suppose the word, "offer" might have been more appropriate," said Harper, grin vanishing, suddenly all business. "The two of you, as well as the people who have followed you, have proven yourselves both enormously capable and strong of character. You carried yourselves into the maw of hell that was Tarsonis, and saved countless people. No one asked it of you." Harper looked to Jim. "I always knew you were a man of honor, Jim, a man of action. But I hesitated to call you a hero. Now I will, proudly, you as well, Kerrigan. And I say that we can use heroes such as yourselves. Cerberus needs people, exceptional people." He proffered a hand, leaving Jim and Kerrigan to stare at it. Huh. Hero. Coming from him, I guess that means something, maybe. The light in Harper's eyes discomfited Jim. Reminds me of a few religious types back on Mar Sara, folks that didn't like the Confederacy's open stance regardin' allowing faith. Same fire burned there. True belief can spur a man to do all kinds of things… not all of them savory.

And a man of faith is not easily shaken from his beliefs.

Kerrigan looked to Jim, eyebrow raised. Jim shook his head, then shrugged.

"I don't know, man," said Jim, letting the tiredness creep into his voice. "I've seen a lot of fighting. Don't have a home to go back to. And I ain't certain I'm gonna end up approvin' what you're planning."

Harper's hand retreated, but his face became passive. Jim could tell the man was thinking, but as to what he was thinking was anyone's guess.

"The offer will remain open," said Harper after a few moments. "Indefinitely. We've been through so much together, us three. I trust that, come what may, you will do the right thing. If there is anything you need help with, let me know. And if you ever change your minds…"

"We didn't exactly say no," said Kerrigan, sounding a little surprised. "We could still-"

"You thought no," said Harper. "I could see it. And frankly, there is still much time, dead time, in which Cerberus must gather strength. If we must part, so be it. There is not much to ask of you right now in any case. I only ask that you stay safe, spread the word of Tarsonis where you can, and oppose Mengsk wherever you are able." He smiled warmly, stood, shook the hand of the both of them. "Undertaker will remain here for another two days. If you need help finding probable safe havens, let me know. The Dominion isn't looking for us yet."

With that, they left, Jim wondering just what the hell was going through Harper's head in those moments. Seems emphatically reasonable one moment, a seething zealot the next. Suppose that must have made him a good operative.

As they left Undertaker's docking tube, Kerrigan turned to Jim, stopping him just out of earshot of the marines.

"I think it would be best if we left, tomorrow," said Kerrigan. "I don't think Harper is… quite as like Mengsk as we fear, but I think it's clear that to him, there is only black and white. People who stand with him, and people who stand against. I think he believes that, given time, we will inevitably side with him."

"It ain't out of the question," said Jim. "Least he gave us a choice."

"I'm not out to become a monster by fighting them," said Kerrigan shortly. "And Harper, I don't think he defines "monster" the same way most people do."

"He did outright call himself an assassin," said Jim, rubbing his chin, and then his forehead. "Hell, I don't know. I need sleep. Think you can help?" Kerrigan raised an eyebrow. "You know. Touch my head, I wake up eight hours later."

"That," said Kerrigan, "I am okay with."

Jim's head was pounding, and he was more than happy to follow Kerrigan without thinking through the halls of Icarus-8, not bothering to look around, just wrapped up in images and remembered sensations. Cities burning. Cool lips on my forehead. Harper's eyes, man.

Eight hours later, Jim woke up in his bed, still fully clothed. Groggy, and feeling rather disgusting, he stretched, arose, and took a lengthy bathroom break. When he finally emerged, shirtless, it was to hear knocking on the door. Jim shrugged, opened the door without bothering to redress at all.

Matt stood on the other side, and raised his eyebrows at the sight of a shirtless Jim.

"What, Matt?" said Jim, folding his arms. "You like guys now, and it's confusing you?"

"Wha- no. No!" sputtered Matt. "I, uh, hope I'm not interrupting. There's a man looking for you." Matt wrinkled his nose. "I think he's some kind of mercenary leader. Just said he wanted to see the captain of this vessel."

"That's you, Matt," said Jim bluntly. "Captains generally know how to fly the damn ship they're on. I don't."

"While that may be true," said Matt, straightening and trying to look dignified, "that is generally only a small part of captaincy. And going by rank-"

"Alright, Matt," said Jim chuckling. "You don't like mercenaries, I can tell. Send him in."

"Yes sir," said Matt, saluting. "And… thank you, sir."

Matt shut the door, leaving Jim to quickly dress. Might have recognized the ship, but doesn't know who's in it. Wonder who this is.

The mercenary did not bother to knock, instead opening the doors in and walking with a swagger. His face was scarred up, and his arms were covered in thick tattoos. He wore basic combat armor, orange in color, and a large pistol was on his hip.

"While I'll be goddamned," said the man in a hoarse voice. "You stole the goddamn Confederate flagship. You could sell this thing for a bloody fortune."

"Yeah, I've been told that," said Jim, standing from the bed and folding his arms. "Who the hell are you?"

"Eh? Ah. Zaeed Massani." The man strode over, offered a hand. Jim shook it gently, only to have his hand crushed in a vicelike grip. "Founder of the Blue Suns, KMC-based mercenary company. Stopped in to refuel, saw a pair of fucking ridiculous warships. Undertaker I haven't a goddamned clue about, but you'd have to be blind to not recognize Norad II." He released his grip, and Jim flexed his hand, feeling stabs of pain. "How'd you snag it? Where's Duke?"

"Pissed off, somewhere," said Jim, prompting a harsh laugh from Massani. "It's Jim Raynor, by the way. Not… currently affiliated with anyone. Any reason you decided to come aboard?"

"A reason? Course I got a bloody reason," said Zaeed, sounding a little offended. "You imagine the kind of piracy you could pull with this thing? I figured if someone nicked it, they'd have to be some of the hardest sons of bitches in space, and more than interested in that kind of business. I was wondering if-"

"Offering me a place in the Blue Suns?" said Jim, prompting a jagged smile and a nod from Massani. "Funny. Lot of people trying to hire me all of a sudden."

"When you have a ship like this," said Zaeed, brandishing an arm around Jim's quarters, "it stands to goddamn reason. The firepower on this thing is outrageous! The hull plating isn't as thick as I would have thought, but you have to skimp somewhere. Can see why the Combine lost the Guild Wars."

"While I appreciate the offer, Mr. Massani," said Jim, "I can't say I'm interested at this time. Never looked kindly on mercenary work."

Zaeed shrugged. "If you say so. But if you're starting some kind of rebel uprising with this thing, feel free to hire us. Plenty of action in the Sector these days, and the Blue Suns are always happy to be in the thick of it." Zaeed gave Jim a rough nod, and then left the cabin (and hopefully Jim's life) as swiftly as he had entered it. Jim furrowed his brow, and then decided to move to the bridge and tell Matt not to let anyone they didn't know aboard. Waste of my damn time. It was to be expected to some extent, though. The KMC was notorious for being rife with people like Zaeed Massani.

Jim found Matt and Kerrigan waiting for him. Kerrigan had dark shadows under her eyes, and the look she gave Jim was haunted.

"Darlin'," said Jim, "forgive me, but you look awful. Having trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah," said Sarah, her blotchy complexion turning a little red. She moved a strand of hair out of her eye. "Looks obvious, I guess. Been having the same dream the last five nights now, getting steadily more intense. Didn't think it was anything important but…" She looked at Jim. "How was our guest?"

"The mercenary was… mercenary," said Jim, not sure how else to put it. "Got another job offer. Didn't feel like taking up piracy or becoming a soldier for hire. We moved on with our lives. What's this about a dream?"

"I think it's a call for help," said Sarah, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. "Psionic. It's coming from Char, I think. People trapped by zerg. It feels… familiar."

"Char isn't far from here, in the relative sense," said Matt, standing stiff in his disheveled pilot's uniform. "Moreover, it's on the way to Umoja, if you're interested in my plan."

"Interested enough to want to know what it is," said Jim. "Spill it."

"Three major stops," said Matt. "I want to hit Tarsonis, to drop off our surviving turians and asari back to their fleet, then jump to Char to at least check it out… then Umoja. To tell them what happened." Matt looked to Jim, eyes crinkled, mouth curling. "I listened to that bastard's speech, sir. People deserve to know the truth. And while the Combine I would trust about as far as I would throw them, the Umojans are a different kind. If we get there before whatever ambassador Mengsk sends does, it could make a difference."

Jim nodded, slowly at first, then picking up speed. "Yeah. Yeah, that works. At least, better than ending up as some kind of Morian sponsored terrorist or a pirate." He looked to Sarah. "Sound good to you, darlin'? Think it could make those messages go away, at least?"

"Worth a shot," said Sarah, sounding a little pained. "Would definitely like to try." She looked up at Matt. "Think you can make those jumps before either Mengsk or the zerg tear us a new one?"

"Norad II is a hell of a ship," said Matt, slapping a nearby support pillar with glee. "You ask me to dance, I can make it so. So… when do you want us to head out?"

Jim thought about it. Gotta say goodbye to Harper, tell those poor Council troops what's going on…that's about it.

"I'll let you know," said Jim. "Got a few things to take care of. I'll be back in about half an hour." Jim nodded to the pair of them, and then took the turbolift to the docking tube. His trip to Undertaker was uneventful, though he did note the sudden appearance of numerous gruff-looking men and women, many of whom sported a blue tattoo on their necks and arms. Wonder how often people like them pay this place a visit? Or how often it gets robbed?

This time, the ghost that had greeted Kerrigan and Jim when they had originally boarded the ship was waiting at the entrance, a rifle cradled in his arms. He smiled brightly at Jim as he approached, offering a small bow.

"A good day to you once more, Captain," said the ghost. "I offer my most sincere apologies, but Mr. Harper is not available right now. If you have chosen to go your separate way, he told me to know that, should you choose to ever return to him, all you need do is come back here and tell the station manager. Or, perhaps…?"

"We're headin' out," said Jim, a little apologetically. "Thank you for savin' us, but we got our own way to go. Tell Jack I wish him all the best, and not to hurt anyone that don't need hurtin'. Think you can do that?"

"I think I can manage that, yes," said the ghost, nodding as his smile broadened further. "Our best wishes go with you, Captain. Know that Cerberus will always stand ready." He extended a hand, which Jim took.

"Until we meet again, Mr…?" Jim said.

"Duran," said the ghost, retracting his hand. "My name is Duran."