HEART OF THE SWARM ALTERNATE
CHAPTER XXV - THE BASIC OF INTELLIGENCES
ICE MOUNTAINS, KALDIR
Everywhere, but on a specific small part of the ice mountains, there was nothing but white. White of snow, covering rock or ice. On that small part, however, there were two colors. White and red. White of snow. Red of blood. A land once pristine, though far beyond a home-warming welcome, was stained by battle and death. On that small part, a land once clear was filled with several large bodies and a small one. The large bodies belonged to that world. They were born in it, they lived in it, they died in it. The smaller body did none of that. It was born outside and lived on different worlds, on her home and other planets. And she still lived on that ice-covered region. Though only by a thread, now.
Blood not only covered the ground, but also Sarah Kerrigan, tired and wearied, and weak, down in that cold ground and too hurt to move. She only found it lucky to have survived through that battle, though only briefly. She still could feel the burdening pain of the two strikes two of the beats inflicted on her, though these didn't scratch her environment suit, she thought. Still, the pain, combined with the cold and the wearied time, she felt totally unable to move. Her body simply couldn't.
She could now feel the Changeling she wore starting to get cold. Soon that cold would catch up to her and eventually take her. Take her mind. Take her life. Her body was doing the best it could to try and recover and, still, that wasn't enough. It seemed that'd be it. It'd be much better if one of the creatures actually did it, but it seemed hypothermia would see to it the job is done. It seemed inevitable, this time.
'...rrigan... Kerr... me, can you hear m...'
The psionic voice on her head was enough to make Kerrigan try and move. It was, right now, about the only chance she had, still, she couldn't move. Her body would refuse to.
"Izsha...", she tried calling, though too weakly, the body giving in. She didn't even know if her halfling employer was listening from the other side. "Izsha..."
She just felt too cold, then. Her audition faded. Her sight blurred as it slowly went dark. She wanted to open her eyes, but it was simply too much. She didn't want that. She didn't want to grasp in the arms of death, as her scores for that mortal plane weren't done yet.
Still, those arms grasped her, instead.
Before she couldn't hear anything else, a dim roar and cracking of earth were heard.
Meanwhile...
"I have warned you of him! Again and again and again, I have warned you of him!", an angry female voice was heard, as she stood beneath her Immortal shell, watching over the holographic head of Admiral Urun and his aide, Celarion. "And now, he is allowed to become a liability!"
"I understand, Khastiana.", Urun replied, while the young encased woman tried to control herself. She had never been so furious in all her life, in how the Gestalt now managed to become aware of the Admiral's intentions, or, at least, a part of them. His participation, his knowledge alone, that jeopardized everything. Jeopardized all she and they worked for. Jeopardized what would come with that work, what she hoped for. "However, we still must proceed with this risk."
"Forgive my insolence, Admiral, but you clearly know nothing of that Gestalt!", Khastiana retorted. "He will do all, but stand still! We must stop him!"
"I have actually suggested the Admiral that action be done concerning the hybrid, particularly by some expendable Khalai or Nerazim.", Celarion informed.
"And, again, I inform you, no such thing will be done!", Urun censored. "We are far advancing in our work to have it jeopardized by an investigation of a dead abomination. Most may not complain, but Artanis will certainly suspect, especially if he knows that the Gestalt was investigating something! The Hierarch may even discover our intentions, even accidentally! I will not have this!"
"So are we to do nothing!?", Khastiana asked, furious. "Stand idle and allow the monster to eventually destroy what we have accomplished!?"
"We will not stand idle, Khastiana, but we shall not take direct and imprudent action, either.", Urun said, firmly.
"If you are concerned with the secrecy of our plan, simply allow me to deliver the blow.", Khastiana said. "I will take the knowledge to the Khala and gladly embrace the punishment."
"You do not decide what is to be done or not, Khastiana!", Urun censored. "It would be wise of you to remember that! This goes beyond avenging the death of your master by that creature! And while your sacrifice would be noble, I have more uses for a free, living Praetor than an imprisoned martyr!"
Khastiana made a bitter face. She often tended, true, to forget that it was about the entire Protoss people as a whole, seeing Artanis' leadership would only jeopardize their position, but her burning feelings for the murder of Muadun often tended to speak louder, making her near-reckless, when concerning the monster whom took his life.
"Now, if we are concluded with this small, particular issue, I must ask you take precautions as concerning the vigilance of the Hierarchy Assembly.", Urun asked. "Attempt as much vigilance as possible, but without getting the attention of the Hierarch, the High Executor or the other Tribe representatives."
"The Gestalt will, no doubt, have foreseen this.", Khastiana replied. "If he returns, he either shall have the evidence he needs or it will be urgent. He mayhaps try to force another Warp Prism to crash and distract the attention there."
"If he does so, we shall know that he is close and capture him.", Celarion said. "He will have foreseen it, as well..."
"What of the investigation of that first crash collision?", Khastiana asked. "What has initial Probe analysis confirmed?"
"The initial analysis confirms there was a commanding override meant to disrupt the Prism's flying pattern.", Celarion said. "However, it was entirely encrypted in Khalani configuration."
"Khalani?", Khastiana asked, dumbstruck. "That is impossible, the Gestalt cannot have learned our sacred language!"
"Then it must have been the only other one Protoss responsible.", Urun replied, bitterly. "Mohandar."
Though Khastiana herself didn't understand it well, only Urun could see that Mohandar also had some interest on the Admiral, as some sources within the Nerazim, sources that shared the same thirst for vengeance as the Khalai did, had informed him.
"The Nerazim Prelate?", Khastiana asked. "Do you believe he may be assisting the Gestalt directly? The hybrid, acting as a spy for him?"
"If it is so, unfortunately it cannot be proved.", the Admiral said. "Not yet. However, until there is an important change, we will proceed as planned."
"And what if the abomination tries something?", Khastiana asked. "What if he has, already?"
"He is still to appear, Khastiana, and no word of Artanis' knowledge of the plan has been heard of, yet.", Urun said. "And, by the time the Gestalt is made known, we will know, as well. And when he makes a wrong move, we shall be prepared."
"And when we have him...", Khastiana concluded. "Muadun shall have my deserved honors."
"All in time, Praetor, and it must be done properly.", Urun said. "I understand the depth and importance of your personal quest, but I will not tolerate that it jeopardizes our initiative. Go now, Khastiana, and ensure the Gestalt is known to us, at all times."
"I will, Admiral.", Khastiana said. "However, I must also remind you of the promise you made, when you asked for my Vindicators. The promise that compelled me to follow you, as following Artanis would never grant me what you promised. What is right. Please, do not forget it."
"And I will not.", Urun said. "Your promise walks alongside mine, Khastiana, that I have sworn to defend my people by any means necessary. And, unlike others, I do not tend to forsake what I promised. Go, Praetor. En Taro Adun."
"En Taro Tassadar.", Khastiana said, as, with her psionics, the hologram then shut down. She closed her eyes, then, trying to concentrate on what it would come, of how that effort would be worth for her. For her honor. For her soul. For her and her master's gratification.
'We are close, master.', she thought. 'We are truly close.'
DAELAAM ARK, BRIDGE SECTION
HIGHER ORBIT OVER KALDIR
Centurion Ilmig, Ald'Alor and all others, themselves, whom participated at the celebration below, felt reinvigorated and renewed, especially after the battle, which they greatly contributed with the destruction of a beast that, otherwise, would have laid waste to the Protoss attack force. Joy and enthusiasm were in the air now, for those Protoss on that icy moon. They had finally started their retribution against the Swarm that destroyed so much of their lives. They had delivered a blow to the Swarm, now misdirected with the loss of their Queen. They had started what their Hierarchy would no doubt wouldn't. When they returned, their feats would be recognized, their names remembered. And the Ark, after all knew of it's pivotal role in the battle, would be consacrated as truly the symbol of hope and the mightiest weapon of the Golden Armada.
However, all things would come to an end, and that applied to the celebration, and the Protoss, though lamenting it was brief, hadn't complained and returned to work, even knowing that it'd be far more easier from that point onward. Apart from the Brood Mother, there was practically no concern to deal with, here. Kaldir was safe.
Or so it seemed, as the Centurion walked to the primary hologram communicator, to attend to the Executor that now called him, down, on the surface. Within seconds, the holographic head of Raseac, in blue energy, hovered above the device.
"Centurion Ilmig.", Raseac said. "I suppose there was nothing new on this second Leviathan you reported me? It still stands still, by the ice valleys miles from where was the Brood Mother?"
"The few crewmembers left aboard the vessel reported no sign of activity, not even when the Leviathan we met was destroyed.", Ilmig immediately answered. "We believed this would stir the enemy into conflict, especially during the celebration, but it still had not moved, however. The beast must be truly feral and harmless, not prone to strike unless provoked."
"Nevertheless, I want you to keep a close watch on such an enormous beast.", Raseac ordered. "I wish to be prepared to handle such fearsome enemy if necessary, particularly when establishing the Psionic Spires close to it, by the Brood Mother's position."
"The Brood Mother's position!?", Ilmig asked, surprised. "Such an strategy is most likely to stir the beast, given the devices' psionic emanations would attract it! Why to do so, and not from afar?"
"A question of both lay of the land as well as logistics and security, Centurion.", Raseac answered, while Ilmig became a bit concerned. "You are aware of how, in order to maintain heat on acceptable levels, the Thermal Dome Generator utilizes psionic energies of it's own, energies that tend to clash with the Spires' psionic emanations, disrupting communications, particularly afar, to Shakuras, as we would want to contact to. Thus, I am forced to erect these Psionic Spires outside the safety of the Dome's protective properties."
"But could it not be on a close location, or close to the settlement and afar from the Leviathan?", Ilmig asked.
"Our scientists, despite they were naught but a disguise to this operations, have proven to be of use, nevertheless.", Raseac answered. "They claim the other regions around this position, particularly close to the settlement, are geologically unstable. So much the ground beneath our feet can crumble and collapse, taking anything to a deadly fall, as well as the icy cliffs, opening destructive avalanches, if allowed. I chose the region close to the Brood Mother's position because it is presumed to be a safe ground to build our Spires as well as our settlement. The Zerg must know, as well as we can, where to safely establish and why. And, given the danger imposed by the native species of this moon, we must presume it is also safe in construction terms, for the Zerg will have secured this position from any possible menace the native creatures may have cause. However, the permanence of these Spires should be only temporary, for they shall be transported back to the Ark when we have made our communications with Shakuras."
Ilmig remained uneasy at the Executor's decision, in that matter. "A sound strategy, Executor, yet I am concerned.", Ilmig said. "Should this beast threaten our Spires..."
"Should this beast do so, Centurion, we shall simply engage and eliminate the menace.", Raseac replied, firmly. "If it does not and remains still and harmless, we then shall leave, like if we were to be un-noticed. As I remind you, our concern is no Leviathan, but the Brood Mother. And without it, without a mind to control it, this giant creature shall be nothing but a mindless beast, faded to eventually die to this moon's extensive cold environment. Lesser than a beast, apparently. Still, maintain a close vigilance, in the beast and anything near it. If there is something to threaten us, then the Spires will have their utility in summoning Shakuras for reinforcements. Is this clear enough for you, Ilmig?"
"Yes, Executor.", Ilmig said, after hesitating.
"Very well, then. Maintain the Ark at a lower altitude, in harmonious orbit connecting it to our settlement.", Raseac ordered, then. "Have our starfighters prepared to launch and our pilots at alert when necessary. I shall dispatch the Probes to establish Warp Rifts and a small security detail to protect them at lunar dawn. If the native creatures dare threaten our Spires, you have my blessings to aid our warriors in engaging them. I shall rest now, Centurion. En Taro Adun."
"Ki Nala Atum.", Ilmig dismissed, yet still a bit worried, particularly at the localization that these Spires, the towering structures the Protoss used for communication, were going to be established. The danger presented from the first Leviathan, particularly when the shielding was almost collapsing, was enough to concern the Centurion. Despite the thickness of the Ark's plating, the beast's large tentacles were enough to pierce through it and tear apart entire sections of the vessel, were the shielding to ever fall. The shielding was the only defense against such a beast's aggression. If it were ever to fall, either two options would remain: To stay and be destroyed or to retreat, although, certainly, the beast would be weakened itself, as well.
Hopefully, however, it'd be like Raseac said. It would be another beast under the command of the Brood Mother that now was dead. And thus, without it's mistress, it would be feral, and, given no Protoss would come too close, it would remain quiet. Hopefully.
HYPERION HANGAR BAY 12
ABOVE SANCTUARY COLONY, HAVEN
Apart from the usual issues and the peculiar episode that he was sure it was worth every second, Rory Swann's shift in the Hyperion Hangar Bay 12 was going quite smoothly. The usual issues, of course, were those conflicts between him and the Chief Engineer of the former Bucephalus, Lefty Owens, on security issues and the modifications Swann did on Raider equipment, as well as the Hyperion. Owens, Swann felt, must've been one of those top-of-the-class pricks in an Engineering school that goes on the by-the-book style, afraid of changing and adapting things that would make efficiency even greater, without even risking security. Swann was quite different, as he learned it on the field, he knew which things could handle and what not.
But he catched quite the lesson and actually was one of the few people whom understood Owens. Must've been handpicked rather for his rule-following instead of actual experience. It was pretty easy to know and get things out of any manual or book. On the field, obviously, that was another story.
He took a brief sigh while studying the blueprints of the Hellion assault vehicle at the console panel and taking notes on how to upgrade them and make them more effective in the attack to come. One amongst many vehicles he'd have to check. The first, and most obvious of necessary alterations were the Siege Tanks the Raiders still had after the battle of Char, on how to increase their rate of fire and moving speed. He tried checking on the mercenary modified Tanks the Siege Breakers had for a hint or two, but, obviously caring for their equipment, they turned the Chief Engineer down, forcing him to be a little more inventive than usual. In the end, the solutions were temporary, limited nitrogen tanks that released a small cooling amount to allow the 90mm twin plasma cannons to fire a bit longer, as well as having to remove a bit of armor just to have the Siege Tank move a bit more faster. Not that it'd do any good. Protoss weaponry was just too advanced and too strong for any armor to hold out, with exception of that Thor machine he adapted out of that giant, hulking piece of equipment his former cowboy chief and that criminal friend of his stole on Valhalla. The best was trying to make things fast enough for the vehicles to dodge the Protoss weapons. The only good thing was that, while they were powerful, those weapons missed their targets so much as Terrans did.
A thought came up on Swann's mind, now, maybe he should check that one more time, right after the Hellion. Despite the fact those upgrades were useful, like the Immorality Protocol from the ATVX arms industry, that allowed an automatic scaffolding and repair system if the Thor became too damaged for combat conditions, and the 330mm Strike Cannons that allowed an useful area bombardment with the power of four Siege Tanks, that still wasn't much enough when fighting Protoss, with the power and determination of those folks from Shakuras, unlike the Tal'Darim fanatics. The Tal'Darim were at least predictable, fighting upfront and willing to die in the attempt, even against the defenses Raynor set up. The Daelaam were methodical, but they could change their strategy, however. They were more organized and less fanatical than the Protoss whom defended those Xel'Naga artifacts. And that, alone, made them even more dangerous.
"You called me, boss?", a voice came in from behind the Chief Engineer, whom turned to see his aide behind him, on his yellow mechanical monkey suit.
"Kachinsky.", Swann said, calling the mechanic to get a bit more closer. "Got more work for you. It's the Hellions, this time."
"What's it gonna be, Swann?", Kachinsky asked, getting closer. "Some crazy transformation thing you pulled off?"
"Very funny, boy, I'm laughing my ass off so much...", Swann deadpanned, in a heavily sarcastic way. "Though I'd really wish something like that could be done. No, I want you is to make a complete change to the Hellion turrets. Use a disperser with high-pressure spray, to make the flames wider and longer."
"Like in the Flaming Betty?", Kachinsky asked, reminding the experimental turret Swann made up, combining an Auto-Turret with a flamethrower instead of a machine gun.
"The same.", Swann answered. "Shove up also some retardant fabric to try and compensate for the heat, I want those turrets firing longer, but without the drivers cooking up. For the speed, try making a direct connection with the nitrous oxide tanks you're gonna put, too."
"Direct connection?", Kachinsky asked.
"Yeah, see if you can have it spill the thing right at the engines, that should increase speed to a hundred in a glance.", Swann answered.
"And it will incinerate and explode the vehicle at the fifth second.", a voice came up to Swann's right, as the mechanic closed his eyes and saw the source of the speech as a man a bit thinner than Swann, though using a dark-green mechanical suit with a hat. He had no mechanical prosthetic or a beard, but had blue eyes and a gruff stature that some people would believe he was either a cousin or someone distantly related to the Hyperion's Chief Engineer, when he clearly wasn't. "Especially with the current state of your Hellions and the current machinery."
Swann took a slight breath, looking at that person before dismissing Kachinsky. "Get to work, Kachinsky.", he said.
"But, Swann, he's got a point, won't it-", Kachinsky started.
"Just do it, boy!", Swann insisted, annoyed. "We'll check on that later.", he added, while Kachinsky left, leaving both Chief Engineers staring at one another. "What did I tell you on that, Owens?"
"You don't need to remind it...", Owens said.
"I don't mess on your vehicles, you don't get criticizing on mine, right?", Swann asked, coldly. "That way, everybody stays happy."
"Even when this happiness risks everyone's lives on the field?", Owens asked. "The Raiders are not my personnel, my partners, nor my friends, mister Swann, but the safety of people, wearing your colors or mine, is so much my responsibility as it's yours."
"And you don't have to remind me on that, either.", Swann retorted. "And, trust me, I know what I'm doing."
"Usually, the people who say that either are too confident or too lacking in technical knowledge.", Owens said.
"Now you listen to me, I might not have a degree or something, mister, but I've been dealing with this long before you have!", Swann said, angry. "You might think you know what it's capable of out from a book or something, but I know it's capable of more, first-hand. I know it, I've tempered with it at times."
"And all the times you must have been lucky it had not exploded the remainder of you!", Owens said, firmly. "I thought your left arm had taught you something concerning it."
"My left arm's got nothing to do with it, for your interest!", Swann retorted, angry, not liking Owens mentioning his mechanical arm as a work accident instead of an incident of a brutal riot response.
"But my concerns with this ship's safety and integrity concerns it, mister Swann.", Owens replied. "And I'm not only talking about these modifications on your vehicles, but also all the travesty on Engineering, all those wiring, workaround and corner-cutting I have only seen in my training. And many of the pieces and material are either outdated, rusty, corroded or reused metal, things we only get to see in Deadman's Port."
"Oh, how quaint, Owens, so tell me, how else were we supposed to repair stuff and keep things working?", Swann asked. "We're not that popular on your shipyards and stations, and where else we go ain't that good, but it's all we have left! You're not working anymore for your daddy Mengsk, y'know!?"
Owens said nothing, then, before Swann, shortly after, approached Owens. "Look, everyone knows how tense things are, around here, in the bridge, in the lab, everywhere, alright? I'm not wanting any fight, around here, are you?"
"I also don't want a confrontation, mister Swann, but I also cannot stand idle before so many things that, combined, can mean severe jeopardy to everyone's lives.", Owens said. "'All that is necessary, for the triumph of evil, is that good men do nothing'. Edmund Burke, mister Swann."
"I'm doing this on our equipment, Owens, not on yours. Rory Swann, Owens.", Swann said. "My equipment, my folks, my responsibility. If something happens, I'll pay for it, not you, alright? Now, if you excuse me, I've got to work my magic, ASAP..."
Swann left, in a hurry, back to the console as Owens shook his head, taking a sigh as he turned around, to step down the catwalk ladders. "Keep saying yourself that, as long as you don't see someone getting killed by one of your 'magics'...", he said.
Elsewhere...
"It's all proceeding on schedule. There are still no suspicions as to what's going on. There are only little ones, but they're vague."
"Obvious, really. They are so busy with what's to come that they're ignoring what's around them."
"I hope it comes soon. I'm not sure I can still stand them, anymore..."
"Have patience. He assured us he'd come soon. In the meantime, we'll prepare for when we can secure it all."
"We have better move fast. One or two are suspicious of what we're doing."
"They're being ignored, of course. He already has so much to handle to give them ears."
"I'm also not so sure about our other acquaintance. He has not decided or talked about anything, yet."
"If he refuses or tries something, I already know how to deal with him. Also, he may be useful."
"You're not planning on harming him, are you? Our friend may not like this, at all!"
"He'll live, I assure you that, as all whom know their loyalty will, when the time comes. And, when it comes, they'll learn who really writes the story. The victor, not the would-be hero he pretends to be..."
"And... what of him? The other one?"
"He already made his choice. Now, as I was told, let him suffer the consequences."
THREE HOURS LATER...
Flashes boomed again and again. Flashes of memories. A mind too confused, too tired, too wearied to read them all. Flashes of the past, flashes of the present, flashes of a distant, far distant future. Flashes of the joy, of childhood, of innocence, with mother and father. Flashes of the fires that took it all away. Flashes of the abuses, tortures and traumas of training.
'Cease your sniveling! Pity and weakness are synonymous! Remorse is forbidden! Compunction is forbidden! Do you understand!?'
Flashes of a slave work, freed when she was captured by her enemy. Flashes of good times, within a revolution. Flashes of him. The person whom understood her. Whom seemed willing to come close to her. Whom she left him behind on that infernal war.
'Funny... I never thought of you as anyone's martyr...'
Then, came flashes of the battles she was involved against those aliens. Aliens she'd fight along with, in the future. Flashes of that last battle, in a city that was one of many devastated since the one she believed in had ordered those Psi Emitters set up. Flashes of how she was left behind to die. Yet, she didn't. She was pinned down and then taken. Taken before a creature with multiple limbs. Limbs that injected something in her. Something that made her sleep the longest slumber, even though, days later, her body was awake.
'It's okay. I gotcha.'
Then, new flashes came. Flashes of her loved one, in his shining space armor, carrying her in her arms. Something she slightly hated, being the damsel in distress. Flashes of her awakening of a nightmare that lasted years on end. Flashes of briefly reuniting with the one she left behind. Flashes of fighting with him. Flashes of him fighting for her when she was away, again, the roles on that dustball inverting. Either it was cruel irony or a joke of fate, it was she to suffer the pains he probably had been suffering all those years. Flashes of how those monsters returned to her.
Returned to the nightmares she was first left behind, in the first place.
'NO! NOOOOOOO!'
A final flash came up, before she opened her eyes.
Sarah Kerrigan bent forward and took a breath that felt like the first of her life, her eyes opening wide as her mind assimilated the best it could of the fact she was alive or reborn. Reborn past the frozen hell and the death she suffered. Though she wasn't seeing it yet, her focus concentrated on breathing, her eyes could see the fleshy environment of the Leviathan. She then rested, finally seeing the flesh walls, the pustules and balloon-like orbs, and feeling, welcomely, the comforting warmth she complained of days ago on Char. She felt relieved and never felt so alive, so rescued from the claws of death as she did. She looked below to see the green liquid, from after when she fought the Reaper, Nell Penny, meaning she was in the Regeneration Chamber, the very sick-bay of the Zerg, to hear Izsha tell it. She also noticed she was only in her environment suit, the dead Changeling not covering her, anymore. That worried her a bit, maybe she managed to get something for Abathur. Or not.
She didn't want to think on any of that. Despite the fact her body felt rested, she at least wanted to enjoy the stay on that alien tub, feeling like she earned it, after besting the alien Mother Nature and it's white furred children. She closed her eyes and rested her head.
"You know, I had nightmares of my own too.", a voice came up, a bit close to Kerrigan. A voice the Puppet Queen was too familiar with, yet she didn't mind on it. "But those were when I was a child, and I dreamed with monsters, darkness and stuff, but you? And I thought I had problems..."
Kerrigan simply remained with her eyes closed for a while before she opened them forward, seeing both Izsha, Naktul and Za'gara standing there, looking at her. "I don't know if you learned that, but snooping on peoples' minds is kind of rude, you know?", she asked.
"It is fortunate you remain operational, my Queen.", Za'gara said. "I believed it would be dreadful, when you returned to the Leviathan in your previous state."
"Funny...", Kerrigan said. "I thought you'd like it. You'd be free and you'd be able do what you wanted, even starting a mess with Izsha."
"It was tempting at first, on Char.", Za'gara said. "But, when I accompanied your victories and your strategizing, though they were everything but alike Zerg, I have seen there is still much to learn."
"Wanting to learn how I act so you can know how to kill me?", Kerrigan asked, playfully.
"Of course not, my Queen!", Za'gara exclaimed, insulted. "I would never-"
"I was just joking, Za'gara!", Kerrigan exclaimed louder, annoyed and taking a sigh. "You Zerg don't have a sense of humor, do you?"
"The 'one-hundred-percent' Zerg sure don't.", Izsha commented. "Though there are a few exceptions, of course..."
"Where's Abathur?", Kerrigan asked. "I thought he'd be here, checking on my condition."
"Doctor says you're fine.", Izsha answered. "He's more busy in the Evolution Pit, getting what he can from the native creatures."
"It is not necessary to add the geneticist is far more enthusiastic with the work he was granted, particularly with so many specimens to dissect and experiment on.", Naktul commented.
"By the way, what the hell was that you just did?", Izsha asked. "I thought you'd only kill one, or make some samaritan effort to kill none, but a whole pack?"
"They came all up on me, Izsha.", Kerrigan answered. "What the hell was I supposed to do?"
"And they all have come atop of you?", Naktul asked. "The creatures were in far greater danger than they thought..."
"What's that supposed to mean?", Kerrigan asked, a bit suspicious.
"Enough.", Izsha said. "Anyways, let's say you got the job done. Abathur should come with something, within the hour."
"I hope so.", Kerrigan replied. "I'm not in the mood for a second popsicle experience..."
"What are you talking about?", Izsha asked. "You said you got frozen? By a flash freeze!?"
"Moments before I faced the creatures.", Kerrigan answered.
"But I believed any Zerg that was 'frozen' by such storm would immediately cease to operate!", Za'gara exclaimed, amazed and aghast, at the same time. "How have you managed to survive past that environmental hazard?"
"Yeah, now I'm curious.", Izsha said, crossing her tentacle hair, like arms.
Kerrigan only took a breath. "I don't know how I did it, but it was sure I used my powers.", Kerrigan said. "If there's a thing I can sure say, it's that it's not a bit cool, at all, to get stuck in the middle of an ice box. No pun intended, too. You can't breathe, can't move, all you had was your mind, and that was seriously considering stopping too, because of lack of air, maybe. Bones and muscles hurting, before something compelled me to gather all I had in an effort to break out. Must have been my Command Self, acting out of self-preservation."
"Yeah, it frequently does that...", Izsha commented.
"Anyways, all I knew was that I should keep focusing, and that there wasn't much time.", Kerrigan continued. "This fever came up, deflecting the cold, my body started to shake. Then, before my mind gave up, it all got out of a sudden, like a shockwave out of some crappy cartoon. It shattered the ice, and I was breathing again, feeling everything hurt at once. That was before I heard the roar, of the creatures looking at me, roaring at me."
"They doubtless must have been attracted by this psionic shockwave you generated to free yourself from your frozen confines.", Naktul said. "Attracted by curiosity, the most basic of intelligences."
"Yeah, but you didn't see how much of beasts they were, Naktul.", Kerrigan said. "Close to these, you Zerg are way more social. Roaring at me, slamming the ground, animal urges to get to a fight... That was before their largest came in. It was female, I think, given it had feeding breasts and other motherly traits."
"One with a darker fur?", Izsha asked, obviously having seen the creature herself, probably from the Evolution Pit.
"The same.", Kerrigan said. "She roared louder and jumped down the cliff, while the others remained. I presumed she was the leader, and that the pack leader always claimed the first kill. You remember, on Char, when you sent the Ultralisk to try and kill me, Za'gara?"
"I remember, my Queen.", Za'gara said, bowing, in a slighty sense of regret. "And I apologize deeply for that."
"Well, I'm never complaining on that again, after this one.", Kerrigan mumbled. "The beast might not have had the size of the Ultralisk, but it was more brutal and, you know, animal... But I managed to kill it. But then, the rest of the pack jumped atop of me."
"Another demonstration of basic, animal intelligence.", Naktul said. "When the pack leader is eliminated, the beast pack tends to either run away and disband or charge and fight to the death. Also, given that what you killed was basically their mother, their birth beast and source of feeding for youth... It was more likely this would be the second option."
"Yeah, I know, they wanted to avenge their dead mommy.", Izsha said. "Big deal..."
"Is it, Izsha?", Naktul asked. "Allow me to ask you, despite your intelligence and controlled nature, were your mother to be slaughtered instead of suffering a natural death, would you not go into all lengths possible to avenge her murder, an act of self-gratification, even though aware this would do all but return her to life? Intelligence and sentience are varied, Izsha, yet revenge is exceptionally common amongst civilized and bestial species, especially when it is related to one whom birthed and raised you..."
Kerrigan raised her eyebrows, quite impressed with Naktul's point, especially using Izsha's mother to define his point. Izsha, however, sounded like she didn't like the mention. "Don't you have something do, Naktul?", Izsha asked, with an homicidal irony. "You could go outside, take a breath, catch a breeze..."
"Anyways, that's how I ended up here.", Kerrigan said. "That about settles for a vacation tale, doesn't it, Izsha?", she teased, ironically.
"How funny, I'm so much laughing my tail off...", Izsha said, dryly. "You're only lucky I won't slap you, like I promised, because you at least delivered something out of this trip. Now it's just waiting for Abathur to do his work, see if this works, then getting back to business."
"Should we prepare ourselves, should the geneticist succeed?", Za'gara asked.
"That's obvious.", Izsha said. "Now, can I have a moment or two with her?"
"What type of moment, Izsha?", Za'gara asked, somehow teasing Izsha's patience.
"Me. Her. Alone! Without you!", Izsha gradually said, staring at Za'gara angrily before staring at Naktul too. "Or you! NOW!"
Za'gara and Naktul neither recoiled nor snapped at Izsha's increasing anger, but both seemingly looked a bit amused, before leaving the chamber. Izsha took a deep breath. "Sometimes it's just a pain in the ass to be the boss...", she said.
"You could have a week off, leave things on my care.", Kerrigan suggested, jokingly. "Not that I'd ever ask you that, of course..."
"Yeah, you'd just love that, wouldn't you?", Izsha asked, sarcastically, tightening her eyes, before returning to normal. "Also, 'vacation tale', Kerrigan? What, you'll just want to settle in, or something? Make a resort, around here? Skiing, maybe?"
"One thing I sure agree is that climbing a mountain is definitely off my bucket list.", Kerrigan said. "My next vacation will definitely be warmer, probably beach-level. I only hope we're staying once here, because I have no intention of getting back."
"Me neither.", Izsha said. "So, how is it, really? Getting frozen? Your opinion?"
Kerrigan simply stared at Izsha. "Worse than getting burned or getting shot at.", Kerrigan answered. "The fact of getting frozen, nothing to do, die with your bones hurting, no breath, not being able to think... Dying like that, it's just... Cruel, Izsha. Pure, simple cruel."
"Even for Mengsk?", Izsha teased. "I thought this would be useful if you got him, you know, dumping him here and leaving him to rot. Like he did with you, just more slower and painful..."
"Mengsk is a cold, heartless bastard, Izsha, and he sure deserves a slow, painful death, but this is too much, too.", Kerrigan said, soft, yet firmly. "Anything else?"
"No, I think we can call it a day, today...", Izsha said. "At least, I hope, the other Brood Mothers won't be on other cold places.", she added, before recoiling, starting to retreat to the hole where she came from.
"Won't you order me to get off the tub?", Kerrigan asked, teasing.
"Why, you want me to?", Izsha asked, playing along.
"I just wanted to enjoy my hospital ward tub, after nearly dying and all that...", Kerrigan answered.
"I thought so.", Izsha said, ironically, finally entering the hole and leaving Kerrigan alone. The Puppet Queen simply closed her eyes, resting her head, relaxing, not her body, but her soul, knowing that earned some shore leave, too...
PROTOSS SETTLEMENT, KALDIR
There was a slight bit of difficulty of sleeping, for Lasarra, especially given there was no blanket to cover herself from the cold, despite the fact the Thermal Shield Generator functioned and worked to keep the real cold, combined with the flash freezes, from freezing the settlement and the Protoss within. Still, this didn't change the fact the weather was slightly unpleasant, especially when the windstorms came on top of the Protoss temporary colony. She had been waiting for hours, particularly in the middle of the night, for Naviri to appear and call her for her supposed 'training', where she'd start to learn the basics of fighting. The very basics someone like Biblos wasn't a bit interested in training her, apparently, only doing so to humiliate her, like it was on the Ark. However, Naviri hadn't come, and it didn't sound like she would. So, she tried getting as much rest as she needed for the coming next day, when the official training would probably begin.
Lasarra then felt a hand pushing her, along with a female voice calling her name, which didn't take much to awake her. She awoke and saw the Zealot Disciple standing before her, staring at the Initiate.
"'Tis time, Lasarra.", Naviri said, quietly. "You do not need to bring your blades."
Lasarra, herself, had not complained and simply got on her feet, as she wore her chest armor and proceeded to outside her Reliquary quarters, where Naviri stood by the corridor and gestured to follow her. Only a small distance remained as she entered the warp pad, warping to outside, directly into the cold outside of the settlement. Lasarra walked forward, where Naviri stood by the celebration circle, at the center. The night was dark and the only glow came from the Protoss lights on the structures and crystals. The cold was simply oppressive. Looking everywhere and seeing no Protoss, but a Sentry or two on patrol duty, and those were far enough. Though there was a slight fear of Observers, Naviri should know that they were either somewhere or simply de-activated, or a single one was keeping patrol in the case of a potential assault by the native creatures, something simply too remote given their inferiority compared to Protoss technology.
Lasarra asked no questions or exclaimed anything, nor hesitated as she walked forward, into the celebration circle inlay, to meet the Disciple. "Could you not have picked a better hour for this?", she asked, by the time she arrived.
"What did I tell you, when you agreed to this?", Naviri asked, coldly. "No questioning, no complaint, no doubt. This was the only hour I could afford for the training you desire. And it will not last long, so, if you hope to absorb something, remain quiet and listen, Initiate."
Lasarra remained quiet, by then, embracing herself.
"And stop embracing yourself.", Naviri ordered, as Lasarra then followed suit, her arms down, staring at the Disciple, though still feeling incredible cold. "I know it is cold, but you will have to resist it, so resist it as a warrior would. Accept you will be in places so much warm as so much cold, and you will be in constant discomfort. Biblos taught me this. He said that, out of all weaknesses a warrior can have, there is none more dangerous than comfort. Comfort weakens your muscles, drains your will to act, removes your motivation to maintain strong, dulls your mind."
"And how can you resist such hazard?", Lasarra asked.
"You cannot.", Naviri said. "Even with thermal shielding, it still remains cold, even with all the fabric you can cover yourself with. You will hate this cold, I assure you, as you will hate the heat of Char or that of desert worlds. But I assure you, as well, that the more you hate, the more you shall learn. And the more you learn will increase your chances of survival."
Lasarra simply stared, then, remaining quiet.
"Now, to your training.", Naviri said. "You desire to learn combat, combat that you have tried against Biblos, yet you failed. When you fought him, I have seen a number of flaws even before you started. Your guard is low and your reflexes are undeveloped. Your mind either takes long to assimilate what occurs, or it assimilates all at once, and thus you try to do a hundred moves, all at once. And I do not need to reference your strength, no matter how much you utilize the Khala or for how long can you handle the ball shackles. If you hope to continue gaining strength, continue your training with Biblos, no matter how abusive or cruel he attempts to be."
Naviri then started walking around Lasarra, somehow in a peculiar same way that Biblos did, on the Ark. But Lasarra, at least, could trust that she would not try a surprise attack at any moment. Not yet, at least.
"One thing, Lasarra, you will learn of combat, is that, far behind the art and the beauty, there is nothing but pure science.", Naviri continued. "The timing, the reflex, the prediction, the right movement, they are all complex matters, but combat is simplified in two actions and two actions alone."
"I am aware.", Lasarra said. "When to block the assault and when to strike back at the opponent."
"Wrong.", Naviri replied, dryly. "This is about what move to apply and, especially, when. However, for this, you need to learn to predict your enemy, in a manner far contrary to Zealots, when they have precognition of the assailing enemy. Predicting for yourself. And for this, you shall need to develop it, as well as your reflexes and focus. Reflex is velocity and precision, focus is decision and reaction. Remember this, Lasarra."
"Reflex is velocity and precision.", Lasarra repeated. "Focus is decision and reaction."
Naviri then stopped at Lasarra's front. "Today, I will teach you to block the most basic of assaults.", she said. "We will start slowly, and then increase velocity."
Naviri then walked, rushing to Lasarra, meaning to hit her. Lasarra blocked Naviri's right hand with both her hands.
"With only one hand.", Naviri ordered. "Again."
Naviri then used her left hand to strike Lasarra, yet she blocked it with her right hand. "Again.", Naviri ordered, switching back to her right hand, where Lasarra blocked with her left arm. "Again.", Naviri ordered again, switching again, but when Lasarra blocked, Naviri followed with a blow below, by her chest. Lasarra recoiled a bit, before she recovered.
"In combat, especially so close, any attack can come from where you are not prepared.", Naviri said. "Reflex and focus, Lasarra. Again, and be prepared."
Naviri then restarted, striking from above, Lasarra trying her best to block with only one of her arms. At the fourth strike, Naviri changed below, but Lasarra could block it. Naviri backed off.
"Good.", Naviri said. "Remember, however, that your enemy will never follow a pattern, he will be as unpredictable as he can. Be prepared for any move and to take the strike, if necessary. Again."
The Disciple and Initiate then started, again, their combat, starting from above, Naviri attacking and Lasarra blocking. Unlike the fourth move, Naviri switched to below in the second strike, and Lasarra blocked it by a second too close. Naviri didn't stop, however, and switched back to above, striking two more times before stopping.
"You almost lost control when I switched suddenly. However, you had blocked well.", Naviri said. "It shall take time for you to develop your reflex properly, and your focus. However, maintain vigilance. You have seen how unpredictable this can be. Again."
Both Protoss woman started again, and Lasarra could feel she was getting the hang of it, managing to remember quite easily what to do, now. Naviri tried switching above and below randomly. Lasarra could barely block those. The Initiate felt she had to adapt to it. At the final move, however, Naviri slid her feet to make Lasarra fall on her back to the ground. The fall caught Lasarra by surprise, as she stared, shocked and angry, at Naviri.
"On your feet.", Naviri said, as the Initiate, angry, followed suit. "Another important lesson. Arms and blades are not always your only weapons. For a warrior, everything, even his own body, is a weapon. Your feet can take your opponent, unaware, to the ground. Your body can be thrown at him and push him back, making him lose balance. Your head can hit his and shock his mind, but the same can occur to you. Again, but we will use only our arms."
Lasarra nodded, but remained prepared for anything Naviri would try. That was, before a flash came in her mind and eyes, her mind strangely getting images of what would occur, from Naviri, herself. She could see that Naviri would use her usual strikes, but, then, suddenly, she would do the same heavy strike that Biblos did, and that, if she attempted to jump back, Naviri would lunge at her. The Initiate then reminded of what Naviri did, and decided that would be a good time to try it herself. And, though it all lasted a second, it seemed like ten.
Naviri then advanced, and Lasarra stood ready. Naviri started with her above strikes, two of which Lasarra blocked each, and then switching below and back above. Three more strikes passed before Naviri made her move, spinning around and moving her arm, much alike Biblos did, in an effort to heavily hit Lasarra. The Initiate, however, did her move, lowering herself and spinning, sliding her feet and making the Disciple fall.
The fall entirely caught Naviri by surprise, her eyes were widened at what the Initiate did. That was not foreseen, nor expected out of one under training. Either she learned it too well or it was entirely something else. That made the Disciple angry and worried, at the same time.
"What have you done?", Naviri asked. "This is not possible, unless... What have you done!?"
"I don't know!", Lasarra exclaimed, a bit nervous. "It was like if, it... It just... Occurred..."
"That is impossible...", Naviri said, aghast and shocked. "This type of power, to have precognition of what I will do... It takes eons of training for all others to be capable of this! How is this possible?"
Even Lasarra hesitated, a bit, reminding of her previous experience within the Ark, how attuning with the Khala restored her. However, instead of before, where she discovered it and how to use it, this time it came without a warning. Lasarra tried to muster a simple syllable to speak, yet she couldn't. Naviri, went on her feet, looking everywhere to see if no one saw this, and then stared at Lasarra for some time. "'Tis better we finalize here.", she said.
"Has this...", Lasarra started. "Has this... frightened you, Naviri?"
"Not as much as you may believe.", Naviri answered, unsure. "However, the next time we train, refrain yourself from doing this. Understand?"
Lasarra simply nodded, then. "Go.", Naviri ordered, and Lasarra went back to the Reliquary. So much the Initiate as the Disciple were shocked, considerably, at this new power. Something Lasarra, she believed, would only obtain when advancing in her training. And she knew Naviri was concerned, and could probably consider stop helping her at that point, and that was only the first night, on that cold ambiance. That worried the Initiate. Was she something more than even she expected? Something different, something that made her stand out from the common crowd?
Questions and worries riddled her while she stepped inside the warp pad and back to the warm comfort of the Reliquary. Still, even the warm wouldn't help her sleep well now, past the few hours left until morning.
Nothing would.
NEW BABYLON, CRUXAS III
ARTEMIS DISTRICT
Hours had passed, considerably, since the meeting at the 'Byzantine's'. Dusk was now settling across the entire metropolis of New Babylon, industries shutting down and calling it a day as commerce barely counted the hours to follow the flow and close too. Many people seemed to be willing to go home, even Scold and his band, leaving the closing bar, were heading to their ship or whatever hole they chose to sleep in. Many but two persons whom still stood, amongst the final waves of commotion in the Artemis District, waiting for the 'runaround rat' that the Dust Devil leader named Keller, the probable source that possibly knew the location of the 'Turk', the one who'd search the answers they needed.
McCowler took a deep breath as Hardscape remained impatient. More than four hours have passed and they still had not found the person they were looking for. Several times they moved block after block, almost getting lost in the District, and nothing was found of them. Probably he must've thought they were working for Scold, despite wearing Dominion colors. Many times, too, they tried asking people how Keller looked like, but these many people wouldn't tell a damn thing, either for the same fact or that they thought those two Dominion officers were going to arrest him or something. That meant the runaround rat was somehow a vital piece in a district meant for bandits, bent Dominion personnel or mercenaries.
Only one person said something about a thin, short haired pale person, in this twenties, whom usually walked around with a backpack, that he used to transport some illicit goods, things that would be normally caught in a standard blitz, something that rarely occurred in the Artemis District.
"He must've gone home or hidin', now...", McCowler said, checking his wrist watch.
"Probably.", Hardscape said. "But we got him on a normal day, and this means work for him, work he just can't do. These types usually don't forgive people whom haven't done the job. It's like a mob, just without the Italian name."
"What, ye grown in a street alley, or something, Cap'n?", McCowler asked. "Not offendin', o'course."
"Saw it in an ancient movie, once.", Hardscape said. "The space smuggler accepted a job, but when he hit an Imperial Cruiser, he dumped the cargo. The boss, an alien slug, he put the smuggler's head for reward. And what is curious is that it's almost the same here, in real life."
"Life 'mitates Art far more than the other way 'round, eh?", McCowler asked.
"Something like this, McCowler...", Hardscape muttered, before he then saw, amidst the crowd, someone with a backpack, wearing a tan jacket with a white shirt below, and what seemed to be jeans. The white shirt had a yellow smiling cartoon, a Smily, from those funny images on the hypernet. The person wearing it was pale white and perhaps too thin, and had short hair. Hardscape had his attention caught, then. "McCowler, the description that lady gave, it's pale, short hair and backpack, right?"
"Aye, it's them match, Capt'n.", McCowler said, seeing the person too. Both then started to walk forward, towards that person, when he saw the two figures walking towards him. He muttered something, 'Shit...', possibly, and then ran off, without finishing the deal with the mercenary whom he was talking to. McCowler and Hardscape ran after, too.
"Hey, hey, who the fekk are you!?", the mercenary asked, getting in the way. "You just fekked up my-"
"OUT OF MY WAY!", Harscape roared, pushing the merc aside.
So much Hardscape and McCowler as the pale person had a slight problem running at the street, through the crowd, pushing them. While the young man said things like 'Excuse me!', 'Out, out!' and 'Move, dammit!' while pushing, Hardscape and McCowler said nothing. The pale person made a turn to the left in an intersection, but Hardscape could see it and signaled McCowler the direction. Turning to the left, in a lightly crowded street, all Hardscape could see was a quick sillouhette turning to the left, in an alley, and McCowler and Hardscape rushed to it, seeing that the young person was jumping a chain fence.
"Get him, I'll make the turn!", Hardscape ordered, moving aside, to run around the block, while McCowler rushed forward, jumping the chain fence and putting pressure in the chase. Dog barks erupted from a German Shepherd in a building gate, by the alley, agitated by the chase, too. The pale person ran back into the main street, ahead of Hardscape, whom was feeling the old age get up to him. The young man crossed the street, into another alley, where he tried climbing a dumpster and a pipe stuck to a building, in order to reach the fire stairs, but McCowler jumped and got to him. Both fell in the dumpster and then in the street, both in considerable pain from falling impact. The young person tried getting up to run, but McCowler jumped and got him.
"CAPTAIN!", the hacker roared. "CAPTAIN!"
"I'M HERE, NOW SHUT IT, MCCOWLER!", Hardscape roared, getting in the alley, sweating gallons and breathing hard, and somehow limping on his right leg, a probable result of the overwork of his aging body. He eventually reached the young man, whom McCowler held against the wall. "Hello, mister Keller.", he said, pinning the youngster to the wall. "You know how much I'm old, don't you?", he asked, ironically. "And still you had me running a mile!?"
"To hell with you, Dommy, I'm not telling you shit!", Keller exclaimed, in pure defiance.
"What the hell?", Hardscape asked, angry. "I didn't even tell you what do we want!"
"You really think I'm stupid, huh!?", Keller asked, angry, too. "Or that gossip doesn't fly around here!? Your little stay at the Byzantine got leaked out ten minutes after you left, you really I'll just hand over the 'Turk' to you, so Scold can get to him?"
"I never told you we worked for Scold!", Hardscape retorted, livid.
"No, but he sure must've sent someone to look out on you!", Keller exclaimed. "What, a pair walks into a bar, ask about the most hated person in Cruxas and you think they won't be kept an eye on!? Pretty bad joke, I might add, tourists!"
"Keep talking, punk, I might just take you to Scold to beat a word or two out of you.", Hardscape threatened.
Keller only scoffed. "He already did worse, Dommy...", he said.
"Oh, we sure can do ye' much more worse, punky!", McCowler said.
"Listen here, Keller, I'm not interested in getting to the Turk just to bring him to Scold-", Hardscape started.
"Yeah, keep fooling me!", Keller interrupted, rudely.
Hardscape simply gave out a blow to the young rat's belly. "It's rude to interrupt people when they're talking, didn't you know that?", he asked, ironically politely, before delivering another blow and then grabbing Keller's neck. "Now, as I said, what I want to find the 'Turk' for is for a job offering."
"And...", Keller grunted, nearly choking. "You really... Think he'd just... Do it!? Man does... What he wants, no matter how... How much money... You... You offer him!"
"And you really think I got a choice!?", Hardscape asked, angry, releasing Keller's throat.
Keller coughed up twice before answering. "'Course you have!", he said. "This is a virtual fekking merc oasis, plenty of people to do all sorts of things!"
"But none can do the thing that I want.", Hardscape said, firmly. "Only the 'Turk'. So, you either help us find him, or we'll make you. Maybe not to Scold, but my people, on my ship, they work your type for breakfast. And if fists don't do the job, my friend, mister McCowler here, he's good at digging up 'dirty, nasty stuff'.", he added, putting an ironical Irish accent at the final words. "And you know how much reference and reputation are important, lately... Need I go on?"
"No, you don't have...", Keller answered, coldly, before then looking around. "But it won't be now.", he added, before handing a small piece of paper, the announcement of some bar named 'BILLY'S BAR AND GRILL', in a district, no doubt far from Artemis District, named Bellerophon. "In this place, one hour."
"One hour!?", Hardscape asked, furious. "You think this is a joke!?"
"No, joke is what you did back there!", Keller exclaimed, pointing to the direction which Hardscape and McCowler came from, during the chase. "I was this close about to get something done with that Mercenary, whom came late, by the way, yet two clowns whom got kicked out of a bar ruined it! Now, I might be able to salvage that, and I won't have you taken to the Turk now, not until the dust clear off and Scold calls it! You want the Turk, one hour, in that place! And make sure you're alone, I swear, man, one tail and I'm out, I ain't joking!"
"Ye' sure kinda bossy and rude, ye' know that?", McCowler asked.
"It sure ain't your pucker on the line!", Keller retorted, taking a breath. "Now, can I get back to work? Closing hours is such a bitch..."
"You better be there, punk...", Hardscape threatened, he and McCowler backing off. "Otherwise, we'll be having a problem!"
"Hey, I got mine covered, you better sure you damn well get yours!", Keller exclaimed, walking off.
"We'll damn will!", Hardscape exclaimed, livid, taking a deep breath watching the punk with a backpack walk off and turning left, once he got back to the street. "I'm gonna have a stroke, one of these days...", he muttered.
"A good sip will sure cure that, Capt'n.", McCowler replied, disgusted.
"Agreed, but I'd rather do it on the Starport.", he said, walking off, with the hacker following him.
NEW CANAAN, TYRADOR IX
Night started to breeze it's refreshing cold wind on the colony of New Canaan, the sun not glaring anymore over the tall buildings, or the shops or even the palm trees and other foliage worthy of a resort. Now, there was only the starry sky outside, with the humongous view of the sister planet Tyrador VIII and the moon on another extremity of the nightly sky. A dim blue nebula could also be seen. Below, by the ground, the lights of the city, from streetlights to within the resorts and the buildings, whom gave the impression of a tropical night, where people would have a good time.
But not everyone were meant for that. Many weren't simply in a good time, others would have a very busy night, particularly if a riot brewed or something. But only five would go for a work that many didn't know of, but they depended on them. At least, that's what those five people thought. The five people that put up their gray environment suits with energy lines running, the armor pieces and cloaking devices, then armed their rifles and pistols for what would come. A tradition that, while unnecessary, especially for such a simple mission, it was still done. All in the name of contingency, that factor of unpredictability that, although it was unlikely, it could very well be present. And it was something they were definitely counting on, since the scene on the rooftop the previous night.
The gun racks were being shut closed while the field computer was locked through six-key encryption and shut down, too. The alarm would go operational in a few minutes. But, by then, they'd be off, cloaked, and heading to take their place near the Science Academy, where they'd listen to the lecture the mole, Sydney, would go. Everyone's faces, even Drake, tried their best to mask, but they apparently sounded a tad concerned about Nova, given the number of times they eyeballed her, while she checked her equipment. She could feel their looks. She could notice them, too.
Still, a work was a work, and she had no intention of backing away from whatever trap they had planned for her. She had intention of facing it, instead, get past it, and get those whom set it up. If not Tosh, the responsible for all that Spectre mess, then at least it could be someone close to him, one who'd give her the information to finally finish it and accomplish Mengsk's orders. Fulfill her duty as a Ghost to the Dominion.
A final cocking sound was heard as Nova loaded her C-20A and primed it to fire, yet slid the safety lock. "It's time.", she said, loud and dry. "Let's go."
With this said, everyone went to the door, out into the building's corridor. Drake, being the last one to leave, took a deep breath as he shut down the lights then shut the door.
Between the gaps of the door, flashing lights briefly erupted and then didn't come back since.
ZERG LEVIATHAN, KALDIR
EVOLUTION PIT
Having rested through her deserved minutes in the Regeneration Chamber, Kerrigan never felt so rested, in body and soul, in all her life. It was even comfortable and, though she knew that was all but healthy, she liked to believe, for the sake of humor, that she never felt so clean and refreshed. And, above all, she never felt any more alive. She believed that was predictable, after nearly dying almost twice.
But, though she liked her time at the chamber, she felt she deserved a bit more to know what she actually accomplished. Now, this time, Abathur would have the answers and the solution would be being brewed inside him, pretty much like it was with her solution, she thought. That was why she walked by those fleshy corridors on the way to the Evolution Pit. As the flesh doors opened, the stench of rotting corpses immediately picked up her nose by the amount of native creatures' corpses inside, the Drones finding a bit difficult to transport the eggs and meat chunks and organs around, on how large they were. Kerrigan felt slightly disgusted, the only fact soothing it was that those creatures tried to kill her, yet she was fortunate she barely ate a thing since Char and the end of Warfield's fortress. Obviously, besides the Drones, the only other minion that was working directly at them was Abathur. By the corner, Izsha and Za'gara kept watch and took notice of Kerrigan's presence.
"Had enough of your bathtub?", Izsha asked, jokingly. "Does that mean I can free up the chamber, now?"
"How you're handling the smell?", Kerrigan asked, joking on it, too.
"You'd think they just smelled outside, Kerrigan, but this...", Izsha answered, shaking her head slowly. "At least we won't have a meat shortage."
"That's good news.", Kerrigan replied. "Now all we need is an oven."
"What, never made a bonfire before?", Izsha asked.
"And it wouldn't do much out there, either.", Kerrigan answered, joining the trio and then looking. "Ever wondered how that meat tastes like?"
"I don't know about the taste, but it's sure furry.", Izsha joked.
"And Abathur?", Kerrigan asked, getting serious. "Did he find anything?"
"Not found, Kerrigan, finding.", Izsha corrected. "Present tense."
"But we have good news, right?", Kerrigan asked.
"That is affirmative, my Queen.", Abathur answered, a bit ahead. "The understanding of these creatures' biological composition has allowed me to determine how to withstand the hazardous environment conditions outside this Leviathan."
"And, past all the fur, how do they do it?", Kerrigan asked.
"At initial examination, my Queen, results were predictably the same concerning the creature's metabolism, blood pressure, organ functionality.", Abathur answered. "However, further examination has allowed to discover a significant, microscopic difference within the creature's cellular composition."
"Microscopic?", Kerrigan asked. "Like in bacteria?"
"Affirmative.", Abathur answered. "Examination has revealed a form of bacteria existing within the creature's blood cells, of extremophilic nature, adapted to survive in conditions of extreme temperature, pressure or chemical concentration. Such a bacteria emanates a high potential energy source, harmonic with the host."
"So you're saying this bacteria is what could make those creatures' survive the cold out there?", Izsha asked.
"Conclusion unrefined, unconfirmed, yet highly probably affirmative, Izsha.", Abathur answered. "However, additional experimentation is necessary to produce, adapt and integrate such capability within the Swarm. And, unfortunately, bacteria survivability is low in foreign hosts, in explanation, within my biological form. One hundred bacteria cease to operate while one barely survives, for a limited time. I will require additional time to completely understand this bacteria."
"How much time?", Izsha asked. "Remember, we might not have that much, especially if Na'fash realizes we've been here or knows something about the mess Kerrigan was involved at."
"The forced acceleration of due process will severely compromise the integrity and stability of the results.", Abathur answered. "Until complete understanding of this bacteria is performed, I cannot assist in further results."
"Still, don't get too stuck getting marveled with that creature.", Kerrigan said. "The sooner we can get ourselves out without being afraid of getting frozen, the sooner we can get this done and get off this fridge."
"Affirmative, my Queen.", Abathur asked. "On the moment a potential result is determined and formulated, you should be summoned."
"Whatever, get to work.", Izsha ordered, and Abathur continued working, while Kerrigan then turned around to speak with the other two Zerg.
"You think he'll find something quick?", Kerrigan asked.
"He has to.", Izsha said. "But he will. And I'll want you trying whatever he brews, especially on a flash freeze situation."
Kerrigan raised her eyebrows. "You're kidding, right?", Kerrigan asked. "Just because I barely escaped from that block, I now get to be the guinea pig, not the Puppet Queen, anymore?"
"Kerrigan, no one else would've survived that, and your powers were the only thing that saved you.", Izsha said.
"Why not use one of the minions?", Kerrigan asked, nervous. "If it works, the thing will be alive, if not, it'll be frozen, right?"
"It's complicated.", Izsha answered. "We'd need to pick up the frozen minion, and then wait for it to thaw, and, by then, whatever Abathur needs to look on might be lost. Will cost time and effort we just don't have. You're the best shot if something goes wrong, he can get fresh data if it fails."
"I barely died there, don't you agree?", Kerrigan asked. "And a single time in an ice cube is good enough for me."
"Fret not, my Queen.", Za'gara said. "The natural competence and ability of the geneticist will ensure all possibilities are considered before an experimentation can be performed."
"Is that something to calm me down, Za'gara?", Kerrigan asked.
"No, my Queen, it is the demonstration of facts.", Za'gara asked. "Now that he has the native genetic material to this cold moon, he can work and expand from the basic, necessary fundamental traits to develop a functional evolution. And Zerg ensure experimentation are successful."
"But you had your failures before in this area, haven't you?", Kerrigan asked.
"Only with the experimentations performed without the necessary, native genetic material, and with intentional forced acceleration of development.", Za'gara answered. "Or when testing entirely new strains, such as the Baneling evolution to the Zergling."
"That's reassuring...", Kerrigan said, sarcastically. "You believe Na'fash did what we did? Got some of those things and used their genes to make her Zerg resist this cold?"
"It may be the most probable, and plausible possibility, my Queen.", Za'gara answered. "However, her development of the adaptation may have flaws and defects of it's own."
"Why do you say that?", Kerrigan asked. "I thought you said that you don't mess on your adaptations."
"We certainly do not, my Queen, yet this takes time and knowledge of genetic functionality.", Za'gara answered. "We, Brood Mothers, are gained a relevant, yet limited knowledge of genetic functionality while Abathur has an extensive one. While Na'fash may have successfully made her minions resist the environmental hazard, these same minions may have difficulties related to sight, mobility, carapace endurance and other factors necessary to survive, particularly in combat situation, such as we shall engage, against Na'fash."
"And you think we might get some upper hand out of this, because Abathur can do it better than her?", Kerrigan asked.
"Yes, my Queen.", the Brood Mother answered. "As it is with all species in all environments, the most biologically adapted survive, thrive and even evolve."
"Yeah, just like you said, adapt or perish.", Kerrigan said, taking a sigh. "Well, guess it's waiting now, right?"
"Probably.", Izsha said. "But you can always go for another penguin walk outside..."
"You sure get a warm-up out of this cold hearted business, don't you?", Kerrigan asked, sarcastically, walking to the flesh door, then.
"What's that supposed to mean?", Izsha asked.
"Food for thought, Izsha.", Kerrigan said, crossing the open gap. "Hope you like furry."
"HEY!", Izsha snapped, as the flesh door closed, but not before Kerrigan gave a small smirk. "Jokes are my department, get your tendrils out of my office!", she added, but it was too late. Za'gara simply looked at the scenario and then looked back at Abathur, doing his work.
"You Terrans are certainly unpredictable, unreliable, and all but understandable, Izsha.", the Brood Mother commented. "How shall ever the Swarm understand you completely is a challenge only the Overmind could conceive."
"Thank the heavens.", Izsha joked. "Picture that, a Zerg understanding Terrans, it's Armageddon announced..."
"Quite correctly, I am afraid, Izsha.", Abathur replied.
HYPERION CANTINA
"...And with the eventual reclamation of the colony, performed mostly by a small Dominion flotilla, it's expected that the resources of Pridewater are utilized in further war effort against the Zerg invasion, and the eventual retaking of other colonies.", the voice of Kate Lockwell could be heard in the television screen in the Hyperion Cantina, as the screen itself showed Dominion personnel guarding and working in the reconstruction of a sea platform, while what seemed to be Zerg Creep was being eventually cleaned out, especially without any loci to feed it. The screen then returned to Lockwell, sitting behind the anchorman's table in the UNN studios on Korhal. "According to sources from Dominion Command, plans for the reclamation of the planets Bhekar Ro, Urona Sigma, and Mar and Chau Sara are being well considered, given that the Dominion, according to these sources, 'intends to make as much use as possible from the death of the Queen of Blades'. For many within the Dominion, especially given the shocking revelations weeks ago concerning Emperor Mengsk's involvement in the Tarsonis genocide, it's comforting to see that the Dominion, for once, is doing something relevant, unlike when during the first moments of the Zerg invasion. The question, however, looms in both citizen and soldier's minds: For how long will this advantage last?", she added, as then the camera switched to another perspective, and Lockwell turned to face it. "In other news, another troubling day grips Tyrador IX with yet another violent riot gripping the streets of the resort planet's capital, New Canaan..."
Graven Hill took a brief sigh, now switching his attention from the news to his computer laptop, where he checked available mercenary personnel, at least ones willing to get their paying later, something as rare as finding blood or wine in an ocean. The Dusk Wing pilots, so much as the Siege Breakers, certainly would need an incentive, particularly money, to help the Raiders in fighting the Protoss that'd come at any moment. They certainly wouldn't be that willing to risk their own lives, especially against an entire fleet, if the money weren't that good, something the Raiders were mostly lacking, now. Most of the money earned from when Raynor worked for that Spectre Tosh, not to mention the donations from the Haven colonists in retribution for the evacuation of Agria and Meinhoff, they were all spent in upgrading the weapons just too old, up-keeping the ship and crew and keeping the mercenaries aboard. Sure, it was understandable, that was war, after all, and the Raiders, liking it or not, were in the middle and thick of it. Still, despite how much they paid, mercenaries were entirely professional and rigid in their 'working ethics'. A contract was a contract. If the hazard was too high for the pay, or if there was few paying, they'd go. Pure and simple.
Unless Horner did the probably last thing he'd do. Utilize whatever credits there were in the reserve fund Horner created to pay the mercenaries one last time. The reserves Horner said they'd be strictly for emergencies and couldn't be squandered. The problem was convincing Horner to actually make use of it. The other option was to pick up another job somewhere, but Horner's paranoia with the upcoming Protoss assault wouldn't move the Hyperion anywhere. That left Hill scratching his head, over and over and over again...
"We're already losing patience, Hill...", the nearby mercenary, a gruff overweight man with short hair and a small mustache, said. "After Char, we were supposed to have been paid, but now the time to mourn for Raynor is over. And we won't stockpile debt with you just to help against those aliens. If Horner wants our help, he better pay us, first."
"I've already reminded him, several times, Bresk.", Hill said, stressed. "I've even suggested he used the emergency fund, but, you know him, it's for 'emergencies'..."
"And you really think he'll be able to pay for anything the aliens destroy?", the mercenary, Bresk, asked. "He might be willing to play do-gooder to those farmer rejects, but I know where to keep my ball, and it better be good before I even consider helping him against a whole damn fleet."
"Does that mean you'll be cancelling the contract?", Hill asked.
"Hell, I don't want to, you Raiders are the only ones left whom still bring some honor and respect to this gig.", Bresk answered. "But it seems there's no other option. There are other folks just offering payment, not just better than yours, no offense, but they pay it after the job's done!"
"The Dominion, I guess?", Hill asked, though not wanting to offend.
"What, you guys really think that it all spins around the Dominion!? Of course not!", Bresk exclaimed, somehow feeling insulted. "Those idiots don't even pay well for what we offer! No, it's about business, Graven, you know this better than anyone else how this works: Service for pay, pay is done, job is done and another opens. Paying early, it's welcome, though I don't recommend it. Now, delaying payment, man? Sorry, we just can't hold on that, no matter how good you folks have been these last weeks. Way things are, and how in deep and less likely to get through this, it just pays out more to call in the Dropship and travel back to the mainland."
"I know, Bresk.", Hill said. "Believe me, I do, but... Think you can't just hold on a little more? For a few days? A favor?"
"You really think my men will give a damn for a favor and do this?", Bresk said, nervous. "They might get pissed if I even suggest that..."
"Can you at least try?", Hill asked. "Until we can get to pay you? You may even collect a favor from this later..."
Bresk then let out a sigh. "Alright, I'll give a shot...", Bresk muttered. "Not promising anything, though..."
"Appreciated.", Hill said, as Bresk then left the table and headed to the door leading out of the Cantina.
Shortly after came in Carradine, off his suit, having catched one of the Dropships that now worked 'bus service', from above to below and the other way around. He ordered two Mai Tai to the bartender, Cooper, and then took them to Hill's table, sitting by the chair.
"How's it hanging, Hill?", Carradine asked.
"Right now, Quentin...", Hill answered, letting out a sigh. "A tight rope wouldn't go so bad. Another is seriously considering to pull out..."
"Oh, so that's why I saw Bresk, back then?", Carradine asked, casually. "Money shortage this time, I bet?"
"And Horner's refusing to use the reserve fund to pay out.", Hill answered. "I swear, if we don't get any money or if those colonists don't donate for this holdout, we'll be in deep in the hired gun business."
"Well, we could always grab the fund without permission...", Carradine answered.
"Horner alone has the key, and he's not likely to give it freely, ever.", Hill said.
"Or you could always start a business.", Carradine replied, joking. "A guy so handsome, apart from the scar, a favor for a favor, don't you agree?"
"You're a real motivator at times, Carradine...", Hill muttered, sarcastically, getting off the table and leaving the Cantina.
"And now, for the latest results of today's UNN weekly lottery...", Lockwell continued, on the television, while Carradine took a sip.
Meanwhile, on the bridge...
Seeing there was little to do, his men and his mind practically exhausted, Matthew Horner returned to the Hyperion, though his job wasn't done. Being a Captain and leader of an idealistic revolution, that was meant to deliver by the letter the promises it made, it was never done. He'd have to waste more energy, that was nearly scarce, on preparing the next drills for tomorrow, for both soldier and shipcrew. The construction crews had an idea of what to do, already, and just how necessary it was to have the shelter and defenses ready. All Horner had to concern about that was the positioning of those defenses. But that was only one small of many issues. This and the fact he also had to contain the powder keg that were Dominion and Raiders living under the same roof. A powder keg that was inflating itself with gasoline, and, if by a chance it happened to rupture, it wouldn't be any small fire, but a city-wide conflagration.
And his mind was getting more and more wearied by the minute, clearly demanding, begging for rest. To forget those problems. To leave that behind. He immediately shook his head. His soul was considerably much more stronger than his mind, and it said it wouldn't forget any of that. By the time he accepted to defend that colony, by the time when he joined the Sons of Korhal, years ago, he made a promise. A promise to make a difference. To make Hanson and her people see that, unlike the Dominion, he could keep up with his promises and deliver a better future. To have Valerian become the better man he aimed to be. To make his men see he could be a good leader so much as Raynor could.
The automatic doors slid open as he now walked within the Hyperion Bridge, now kept with the minimum of crew, only one or two. The others either went to sate their hunger and thirst or went straight for a rest. Amongst those few, was Captain Vaughn, by the Star Map table, whom still kept an eye on things, and apparently was just waiting for Horner to return. Horner, himself, was slightly amused, given that he could take care of things and he wasn't lacking on the job.
Unfortunately, that wasn't what Horner wanted to talk about with him.
"How are things doing, Vaughn?", the Hyperion Captain asked, as he approached the Star Map. "I heard there was some trouble here, in the bridge..."
"There was.", Vaughn answered. "Fortunately, it was settled without much trouble, and quite peacefully."
"Peacefully?", Horner asked, a bit worried. "There wasn't any arrest, was there?"
"No, Captain, and I assure you, there are several witnesses that can confirm this.", Vaughn replied.
"I hope so.", Horner said. "We don't have much brigs, and these generally are only used when some real trouble happens."
"I wouldn't attempt anything without a very good reason, Horner, especially beneath your jurisdiction.", Vaughn reassured, though Horner didn't buy it easily. "We both may be ship captains, but this is still your ship, isn't it?"
Horner then stared at Vaughn. "That's something I wanted to ask you about, Vaughn.", Horner said. "If this is still my ship, why do you act like if it was yours?"
Vaughn then stared at Horner, surprised. "This is too serious, Horner, and sounding like a charge, what are you talking about?", he asked.
"I had learned from Stetmann, hours ago, that you signed a permission to implant tracking devices on both your and my personnel.", Horner said, extremely serious. "A permission I wasn't even aware of, or consulted to, I had to find out about it from him, during the lab confusion."
"Well, Captain, I was going to inform it to you when you returned to the ship.", Vaughn replied, trying to keep his posture. "And I'd like to explain, due to the conflict to come, we'd need a means to keep monitoring the condition of our field forces, and mister Montgomery provided this solution."
"According to Stetmann, he believes these devices weren't meant for Dominion personnel, but for us alone, like if someone wanted to keep tracks on our movements.", Horner said.
"That is absurd, Captain!", Vaughn exclaimed, offended. "This concerns only the monitoring of our personnel on the field, for better command coordination, we wouldn't be keeping an eye on your men just because we'd be planning something! Understand, Captain, I only signed it because it was beneficial."
"Beneficial or not, I wasn't consulted on it, not even once, and that's something I won't abide.", Horner warned. "When I tasked you to take care of the Hyperion, it was strictly to keep the ship steady and the crew under control, anything else, you must come and consult me, we'll talk on it. I said, when we agreed to this, that I'd not be responsible for the actions of your men, but I also don't stand for people doing things on my back. Understand?"
"Of course I understand, Horner, but please, understand that I just wanted to help, to ease a slight bit of the burden you are having with preparing the defenses.", Vaughn said.
"The only help I'll need, when the time comes, will be from your men on the field, Vaughn.", Horner said, coldly. "Other than this, I'm perfectly fine and able to command."
"Are you, Horner, really?", Vaughn asked. "There are many who'd say that you're growing a bit weary with all this work."
"Who said that, Vaughn?", Horner asked, staring at Vaughn's eyes.
"As they say they're worried you are a bit obsessed with fulfilling this promise you made.", Vaughn continued, before then Horner made a stern face and stood tall, slowly clenching his fists.
"Three things, Vaughn.", Horner said, almost as if he was threatening Vaughn. "One, I'm not just the Captain of this ship or the leader of this revolution, but I'm also the only one who'll protect those people, down there, and this is hardly a promise, but my duty, my job. Two, I'm doing most of the work, I didn't ask you to do any of the heavy weight, and three, my promise has nothing to do with doing my job! And, for your information, at least, when we make promises, we tend to fulfill them, unlike some certain people!"
"I find it hard to believe what Emperor Mengsk did has anything to do-", Vaughn started, offended.
"You're missing the point, mister.", Horner interrupted. "What I'm saying is that if you want to work together with me, there better not be any under-the-blanket deeds or deals here. I want to be on the loop and be able to discuss it so much as you want to. While on your ship you have your loyalty, in here, we work with a different currency, with trust. And trust, here, is earned."
"Captain Horner.", a voice called in from the communications terminal, belonging to Marcus Cade, whom took both navigation and Hall's position when she was off-duty. "We have a transmission calling, it's Valerian."
"Valerian?", Horner asked, dumbstruck. He could only assumed something happened, otherwise he'd just have informed Cade the job was done. "Patch him in."
The Star Map holographic display then changed to a transmission screen, where Valerian's face was shown, within what seemed to be a Command Room within a Command Center.
"Valerian?", Horner asked. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened, Horner, we have reached our quota and we are preparing to return.", Valerian answered.
"And you called me to tell this?", Horner asked. "You could've just left it to Cade."
"That is not why I called you, Horner.", Valerian said. "I believe I may have a suggestion that could aid us in the defense against the Protoss."
"What type of suggestion?", Horner asked. "Some type of help or prototype for a weapon?"
"Well, it's a bit... complicated.", Valerian answered.
"Complicated?", Horner asked. "Why?"
"I think it may be better if we discussed this when we return.", Valerian said. "We should be returning in a couple of hours."
"Why 'discuss this when we return'?", Horner asked, dumbstruck again. "What are you up to or what have you done?"
"Trust me, it'll be worthy.", Valerian said. "When we return, you'll understand."
"Understand what?", Horner said, losing his patience.
"We have to go, over and out.", Valerian quickly dismissed.
"Valerian!", Horner called, but it was too late, as the transmission screen was then shut off and it returned to the holographic chart, then. Horner turned, then, to Vaughn, having had enough. "You know Valerian as much more than I do. What's he up to?"
"And you ask me, Horner?", Vaughn asked, keeping himself in check. "One thing I must tell you, though, is that he usually does that."
"Doing things under our nose or hanging up?", Horner asked, sarcastically.
"Whichever you prefer, I think...", Vaughn said, dismissively.
NEW BABYLON, CRUXAS III
BELLEROPHON DISTRICT, ONE HOUR LATER
The night sky of Cruxas III rose high, the endless starry curtain with the blue nebula and the two moons, one more distant than the other, showing high in the sky. Lights were everywhere, from the neon of shops, gas stations, nightclubs and bars, like Billy's, where Hardscape and McCowler stood by the door, keeping watch and waiting, to the rooms in apartment condos, streetlights, and the lights within those same shops, gas stations, clubs and bars. Nightly traffic went on a bit heavily, though there were less people on the street, mostly the youth seeking a good time.
The cold breeze also catched up, allowing both Hardscape and McCowler to stand a bit more tranquil from all the heat, particularly after the chase for Keller, the one whom knew the location of the Turk. Both were waiting for the boy right outside the bar and grill, and had a small issue with the local bouncer, because they simply stood outside and didn't enter, even when they told him they were waiting for someone, and this someone didn't come for over an hour. Both also checked for anyone suspect, trying to remember the faces of the men whom were with Scold at the Byzantine, but so far they found nothing.
McCowler then heard something, though it wasn't on the street, but within his belly. "Now, me belly's complaining...", he muttered.
"I asked you if you wanted something from the convenience store, blocks ago, but you said you didn't want anything...", Hardscape said.
"Wasn't hungry by then, Capt'n.", McCowler replied.
"It's almost an hour, now, Keller should either come up or don't at all.", Hardscape said. "In either case, it's too late to pick something for you."
"He better lead us to 'tis Turk, else I'll...", McCowler started.
"Get in line, McCowler, Captain's privilege.", Hardscape deadpanned, before seeing Keller in a corner in a nearby block, coming up to them. "Speak of the devil..."
After a small awhile, the runaround rat approached the two Dominion officers. "I thought you'd be inside the place, do you know how it's easy for anyone with a brain to hide from my sight, especially in this fekking area?"
"Hey, ye' told us to meet in here, lad, ye' never told we had to go in.", McCowler said, sarcastically.
"He's got a point, you know...", Hardscape said, ironically. "Well, Keller, what is it going to be?"
Keller looked around himself and the two before breaking the silence. "You're lucky there's no one from Scold's here, now, and I know every last one of them.", he said. "Either they bored up or you lost them. At least you didn't go in a predictable direction, did you?"
"We considered that, yes.", Hardscape said.
"Okay.", Keller deadpanned. "Follow me..."
Without saying any words, both Keller, Hardscape and McCowler than started walking, firstly forward, a couple of blocks, before Keller, stopping at times to check if someone was following, then turned left, crossing the street and walking down steps besides a street bridge, walking forward than turning to the right, crossing the street again and then turning right, into a block with several medium buildings, many with shops below but with housing in the upper levels. Keller then entered the third to the left and the two followed, passing through the small lobby with an African-american receptionist and then into an elevator. He pressed the button to the tenth floor. The three could feel the pull of gravity as the elevator went up the floors, before the doors opened, revealing a wide corridor with automatic doors, that led to the apartments, and a curious mixture between the detailed, gritty metal and a semi-classic style. There were stands with vases atop and comfortable benches which people could rest, at least, those whom didn't live on those apartments. On one of those benches was resting an old Caucasian woman, with a metal cane besides her, while she did her croquet with what seemed to be the beginnings of a scarf.
"He'd been looking for you, my boy...", the old women said when Keller and the two behind him came closer, obviously meant to pass by her.
"I'm aware...", Keller answered, letting out a sigh. Hardscape took a quick glance and noticed her cane was a bit customized, especially with the rubber black detail in one of the sides, reminding a pump slider from a shotgun.
The three then came to an automatic door to the left that still remained close, with a panel obviously meant to call people inside. Keller pressed the blue button. "Aal.", he called, the name somehow confusing between the standard Al or 'Owl'. "Aal, you're there?"
"And you're late, Kell- Who the hell are these two?", a voice came up from the speaker.
"They're business, they just wanna talk.", Keller answered.
"I strictly told you I don't work with these types, Keller, these are the rules.", the voice, 'Aal', coldly said.
"Come on, man, I nearly got fekked up today, cut me a break!", Keller exclaimed, angry and frustrated.
A while then went on before the automatic door slid open, then, revealing a barely lighted room, that resembled more of an office, with a side wall television screen, two couches on the two opposing walls, one of them facing the television, a stand with a vase and what seemed to be a gun besides it. Afar, forward ahead, there was the balcony, after the desk, with the starry night and what seemed to be a man smoking a cigarette. Keller walked forward and the two followed, obviously to meet this man, the supposed 'Turk' or someone related to him.
The man was clearly a mercenary, most likely a former special forces type, given his tall Caucasian muscular body. The singular bird-like tatoo in his right arm suggested a dangerous nature, most likely a troublemaker. He wore a tight shirt with colors that clearly reminded the Ghost Program as well as black combat boots and pants. The man had a long, thick brown hair and a thick goatee too, with brown eyes. He held the cigarette as he entered the office-room and looked with a snide face at Keller.
"Bullied again, rat?", the man, supposedly Aal, asked disdainfully. "Either you're getting fat or old, or even both, wimp..."
"You're the 'Turk'?", Hardscape asked.
"I still haven't let you talk, have I?", Aal retorted, in a slight tone of defiance, before facing Keller. "Where's my buying?"
Keller then approached the man's desk, opening up the backpack and removing what seemed to be ammunition clips, stacking them in the table.
"Are those for C-20A?", Hardscape asked, suspicious and recognizing the design and shape of the clips.
"Office material.", Aal answered, sarcastically. "I thought you pencil-pushers knew, can't do the paperwork without the pen... Pun intended, of course."
"Where's my payment?", Keller asked, straight to the point.
"And you'll really believe me to pay you, after bringing these two shielders?", Aal asked, sarcastic and in an evil way, Hardscape knowing that 'shielder', amongst mercenaries, was a slang used to define Dominion personnel, given the new Dominion's symbol, akin to a shield. "Forget it, rat."
"You're kidding me, right?", Keller asked, angry. "You have any idea of the trouble I went for these!? Not to mention these two nearly fekked up the transaction!"
Hardscape and McCowler stared at one another, understanding that the transcation with that mercenary, when the two went to chase him, must have been what he was talking about.
"Does it sound like I care, wimp?", Aal asked. "Besides, you never should've left mine for last. Second penalty. Forget the money and the place to sleep tonight."
"Goddammit, Aal, I swear, I'm gonna-", Keller started.
"You'll what, wimp?", Aal asked, resting his hands in the table, showing his muscular arms in clear view as he looked at Keller with a predatory look. "Huh? You'll what? I know you can't stand a chance in a fight, so what's it, you'll 'rat' me out?", he asked, mocking. "Go ahead, leave the building. Just don't complain if, somewhere in the street, you'll feel a slight thick prick behind your neck and in the middle of your head. Otherwise, be a good mice and sleep somewhere in the corridor. You can start now."
Keller tried controlling his breath as he then walked to the door. Aal then walked around the desk and picked up Keller's backpack. "Don't forget your trash!", he exclaimed, throwing the backpack at the rat. The backpack hit the rat's back as the door slid open, hurting him. He picked it up and walked outside, as the door closed, leaving Aal, Hardscape and McCowler alone. The mercenary then walked straight to the chair.
"I told him and you I don't do business with your rabble.", Aal said, coldly, sitting down. "But, for you to go in the trouble of catching him, heh, you really must want something. I just hope it better not be a threesome."
Hardscape said nothing, knowing that Aal didn't let him speak, yet, as the man rudely answered. Besides, a comment like that didn't need an answer, anyways.
"Well?", he asked, raising his arms. "You can ask now, you have your granted free permission-to-speak now, Captain..."
"You're the 'Turk'?", Hardscape asked, coldly.
"Of course, mister.", he answered, ironically and letting out a chuckle, as he died the cigar on the ash tray. "I am the Turk. But you're also the Turk. He's the Turk...", he added, pointing a finger at Hardscape and then at McCowler. "The wimp is the Turk, too... The granny outside is also the Turk. The whores in the alleys are the Turk, as well... The fat slob above and the lazy ass below are also the Turk. Mommy and Daddy are the Turk. Everyone is the Turk."
"And nobody, too?", Hardscape asked, sarcastically.
"If you prefer it...", Aal said, frowning. "What's your name, anyways?"
"Hardscape.", the Captain answered. "The man whom wants you for a job."
"Hardscape...", Aal repeated, nodding softly. "You're not growing one Hard on me now, are you?", he asked, chuckling evily, trying the Captain's patience. "And the lace curtain?", he asked, then.
"Elgin McCowler.", McCowler answered, containing himself. "The man who's trying his best to not 'nock yer goatee..."
"Oh, how lovely, someone whom wears a trouser...", Aal remarked, mocking him. "Makes you a freak of nature, doesn't it?"
"And you'd happen to have a name too, don't you?", Hardscape said, barring McCowler from moving forward before he could move in on the mercenary.
"Well, I happen to have, like everyone else...", Aal answered, ironically. "But so far, I see no reason to tell it to you, do I? And the wimp already said it."
"Either it's the first name, or the last one.", Hardscape remarked.
"And let's remain into that, okay?", Aal asked. "Really, grizzly and manly aren't my type."
A beep then came in on what seemed to be the transmission device at the desk. Aal answered it by pressing the red button. "What is it now, wimp?", he answered.
"Excuse me, mister Cistler, you won't mind if I take a leave for a few minutes?", an old female voice came from the device. "I need to take my medication, young man..."
Hardscape's mind, out of a sudden, started working, knowing he reminded that name, 'Cistler', was a known one, especially within the high echelons of the Dominion.
"Whatever...", Cistler answered, containing himself. "Suit yourself, it's not like something will happen, anyways...", he added, pressing again the red button, returning his attention to Hardscape and McCowler. "Now, where were we?"
"When I asked your name.", Hardscape answered, somehow enlightened. "And Cistler isn't a strange name. It's just the name of the...", he added, before hesitating then, remembering the images of the news, from some years ago. "Wait a second..."
"I'm gonna kill that hag, someday...", Cistler murmured, under his breath.
"You...", Hardscape said, pointing a finger, slightly nodding his head, too. "You're that guy, the one whom got in trouble in the Ghost Academy and it ended on the news... The son to the Finance Minister."
"Aldeo Cistler?", McCowler asked, while Cistler rolled his eyes.
"Yes, the same, McCowler.", he answered, decisively. "Was kicked out because of a drug charge, nearly killed a trainee there...", he added, before staring right at Aal's eyes, something new coming up, too. "That's where the 'Turk' comes from, isn't it? I thought it was a person with foreign traits or an accent, but it's just the name of the drug."
"You really got an Einstein brain, don't you?", Cistler asked, sarcastically.
"But then you returned, haven't you?", Hardscape asked. "And completed your training. But instead of making your daddy proud, serving your Dominion or staying away from trouble, here you are working as a hired gun, and a pretty slacker type, too."
"Oh, so we'll really stay here all night, discussing old matters?", Cistler asked, ironically. "Or can we just skip old family memories and you tell me what you want?"
"Finally, we're getting somewhere, aren't we?", Hardscape retorted, sarcastic, too. "What I want is named Second Genesis. It's something or everything within databanks of the Moebius Foundation."
"Funny, I thought you were one of those guys whom wanted some blackmail dirt from your Damn-inion, but you're saying it's on a research group.", Cistler remarked. "That'll cost you more, almost the double."
"The double!?", McCowler asked, angry. "What's this ye' think, some kind'o joke?"
"I'm actually setting a fair price...", Cistler answered. "I'd have charged your type the quad for it. And, so far, I'm not seeing a very good reason to lift any finger for you, but the middle one..."
"How interesting, I thought you'd like to get your pay!", Hardscape retorted, getting angry.
"Of course I would, but your Dominion did me a very big favor during training, too...", Cistler remarked, the Captain knowing what he mentioned.
"Not in a competent way, I might add.", Hardscape replied, bitterly.
"Mercenary privilege, Hardscape.", Cistler said. "I get to pick my costumers and refuse them, too, if I so leisure. And, as I said, I don't do business with you. And, since you're gonna leave, now, do me a favor and send my compliments to Scold. Tell him he can try and catch me, here, but I'll have moved by the time he gets to this place."
Hardscape and Cistler stared at one another for some time, before he called McCowler and turned around to leave. A beep sound was heard in the desk, and Cistler pressed the button. "Had your medication, already, lady?", Cistler asked. "We'll need to have a talk, later..."
"Captain Hardscape, if you'll please refrain yourself from leave the room, I'll be deeply appreciated.", a new, snazzy, sarcastic voice appeared not just in Cistler's communicator, but also in the PA boxes in the corridor outside and, apparently, the office-room, too. Hardscape and McCowler stopped, recognizing the voice and the electronic distortion. They then returned to where they were, before Cistler's desk.
Cistler was caught by surprise at the new voice, too, leaving his rest, but not the chair. "The fekk?", he asked, dumbstruck.
"Cistler...", the voice said, a bit disappointed. "More than two years and you're still the same scumbag. And I believed resocialization worked wonders, but it seems, like your father, your insolence is just hereditary..."
"Is that you, wimp?", Cistler asked, angry. "What, you think I just won't get in there and give you a beating?"
"You can try, but he doesn't know what we know how it was in Academy.", the voice said. "And you still take advantage of weaker persons, don't you? How disgusting..."
"So who the hell are you?", Cistler asked, coldly.
"Didn't I tell you about the Academy?", the voice asked. "We were there, remember? I did you a favor, you got me what I thought it was my medication, right, right, right?"
Cistler took a while get a hint of what the voice meant. And then he slightly grinded his teeth. "Lio Travski...", Cistler said, coldly. "You're right, y'know, it has been some time. But, aren't you dead?"
"I was, obviously.", Lio answered, sarcastically. "But then I was reborn. Hallellujah, brother."
"So it was you whom sent these two Dommy-Mommies to my office?", Cistler asked. "You really thought I'd just do it for them, getting what they wanted?"
"Well, they needed help, and I offered it to them.", Lio answered. "As you should have, and kept your snide mocking teeth and tongue in check."
"And I should just do it, just for you? A former Hab junkie?", Cistler asked, disdainfully.
"Well, you'll have to, if you want me to keep your skin safe.", Lio answered.
"What, you'll just tell Scold where I am?", Cistler asked, mockingly. "I'm on the other side of town for him to get me in time..."
"Oh, I can do so much more, Aal...", Lio said, coldly and starting to sound evil. "For an instance, I can tell him where you are, at every possible moment, where ever you decide to go, up or down."
"How, using cameras, trackers and even hypernet trace?", Cistler asked. "I'll just shut them down-"
"You really believed it'd that easy?", Lio interrupted. "Just shutting down and you're invisible, like the cloaking device you still use, when you should've discarded it when you deserted? I've already marked you, Cistler. The clips you just received, I gave them to the man whom delivered it to Keller. The clips and all the bullets have their means of tracing. And, even you throw them away, you'll still be followed. You've just been coated with a benign airborne isotope, one with a very unique signature, per mine specifications, that won't simply go out with a shower. And I can be everywhere and nowhere, now, Cistler, my 'rebirth' has assured so. If you try to hide out somewhere, especially with an account, I can trace you. If you try to take a ship, I'll plant a bug. If you try to change your clothes, your hair, your face, your guns, I'll catch up faster than you can do it. Not to mention I can make it so that not only Scold will be after you..."
Cistler then grinded his teeth. "What the hell are you talking about?", he asked.
"Do you really believe I'd forget, or even forgive what you did?", Lio asked, coldly. "The lives you've destroyed, the troubles you caused? One, in particular, suffered more than most because of you. And all because she gave an out on you."
"You're talking about...", Cistler started.
"It is her I'm talking about, Cistler.", Lio retorted. "That, what you done, it destroyed her. Her and her father. And your daddy may not know what you did, but he used the window you opened for him to get away with it. Oh, I know, Aal. I know old man Aldeo was the real mole, selling secrets like cupcakes to the Umojans, and that old Toom was just the scapegoat. A scapegoat you made all by yourself."
"How funny, I remember someone else helped me make that scapegoat too!", Cistler exclaimed, angry.
"Perhaps, but what matters is that not only I can put Scold after you, but the Dominion you scold so much, as well. Pun intended, of course.", Lio said. "Once they see all the funding your father received, all from separate accounts from Umoja, a spark of interest will be renewed for the people whom wrongfully investigated Sector 9."
"And you think you can simply blackmail me with that?", Cistler asked.
"Oh, so I can play a bit more lower, now.", Lio remarked, disdainfully. "Very well, then, we can start by exposing some 'removed' evidence that proves that Toom didn't commit suicide, but was murdered, instead, a favor asked from a father to a son. A Treasury Minister whom is not only a traitor, but also a protector for a murderer with an already bad reputation and history. And if that still isn't enough, I can let leak, as well, that, though I know you didn't do it, that it was you, not your daddy, whom leaked to the Raynor's Raiders the information about that Adjutant on Tarsonis, that contained the transmissions whom started that scandal, days ago. Picture the anger and the desire for revenge growing within Arcturus Mengsk himself. Growing, pulsating... Pun intended, too. However, I can very well have you join your daddy in prison. One big happy jailed family."
"You couldn't simply do all that...", Cistler mocked, though a small spark of fear came up on his spine.
"You'll really, really, really doubt me on this, Aal?", Lio mocked. "Are you sure? And if you think you can run, I'll take steps to ensure you'll the most hunted bounty in the whole Sector, with a prize to envy even the late Jim Raynor's head himself. Dominion, Kel-Morians, Umojans, Raiders, mercenaries and pirates, aliens, if you happen to think you can hide in their territory... It'd make a wonderful manhunt movie. You think you know hell, Aal? I'll make you know hell, first hand."
"Then why haven't you, already?", Cistler teased, a bit anxious. "You're bluffing, aren't you? You are bluffing, you are just somewhere else behind a computer, with your limited hacking skills and making void threats. That's the only explanation. Alright, go ahead, keep on it, make me believe. Otherwise, go bother someone else, you addict fekkhead."
"Okay, then. You call down the thunder, you reap the whirlwind, they say... Turn on your computer.", Lio dryly ordered, after two seconds, before the communicator died off. Cistler lost a bit of his defiance, as he then pressed a button, and the computer screen went to life, showing a standard desktop that seemed normal except for a flashing red label, on the top left corner, that read '01 NEW CONTRACT'. Cistler grinded his teeth, hoping it wasn't what it seemed to be, when he accessed the label.
The screen then shown the picture, front and side, of Aal Cistler himself, with the following words.
REWARD:
AAL CISTLER, A.K.A. 'THE TURK'
REFERENCED AS SON TO ALDEO CISTLER, FINANCE MINISTER TO THE TERRAN DOMINION.
DEAD OR ALIVE, REWARD TRANSACTION ON POINT
CR$ 50.000.000,00
ACTIVE UNTIL ACCOMPLISHED
That was enough to make a sweat come down on Cistler's forehead, his eyes widening, before another post came in, this time from the Dominion Security Directorate, with only the frontal portrait and the words:
DOMINION SECURITY DIRECTORATE
WANTED:
AAL CISTLER
MERCENARY, ALIAS KNOWN AS 'TURK'
NOTE: MAY HAVE SHAVED/CUT HAIR
DEAD OR ALIVE
MURDER, CONSPIRACY, TRAFFICKING, ARSON, BOMBING, HACKING, D.U.I., ASSAULT, LEAD PROSTITUTION, RACKETEERING, SEDITION
$1,200,000 REWARD, CASH ON DELIVERY
FROM: DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE OF NEW BABYLON (DOJ-NB), CRUXAS III, KOPRULU SECTOR
Cistler started to feel his heart beat considerably faster, before, suddenly, another poster appeared. One from the last people he wanted to see, directly from within the Ghost Program.
DOMINION PSI-OPS DIVISION, GHOST PROGRAM
PRIORITY TARGET: AAL CISTLER
FORMER DOMINION OPERATIVE (DESERTED), HIRED GUN, INFORMATION BROKER
LAST SEEN IN: NEW BABYLON, CRUXAS III
RELATIVES: ALDEO CISTLER, FINANCE MINISTER TO THE TERRAN DOMINION
Previous report files on target range between desertion during the battle against Zerg hostiles for control of Astrid III, indisciplinary record, multiple violations on military regulations to an overreaching, semi-independent arrogant nature. Witness from several mercenary contacts involved report that target is also strictly selective on the contracts he takes, and an even lesser probability of accomplishing said contracts. Known for a highly questionable operation both as a hired gun and information broker, utilizing technology and weaponry akin to those exclusively to the Ghost Program.
Multiple outstanding warrants for target exist, particularly on Cruxas III, believed to be his base of operations, including murder, assault, racketeering, information and drug trafficking, hacking, bombing and arson. Additional, unconfirmed warrants suggest conspiracy and sedition, particularly in service of target's relative.
Considered armed and extremely dangerous. Records of previous training within the Program have proven target both an expert at evasion, hand-to-hand combat, marksmanship and tactical knowledge of military procedures. Must be handled with extreme caution and reinforcement. Appropriation and expert knowledge in use of visual-concealing devices makes presence of advanced sensorial systems mandatory when pursuing/engaging target.
Then, the three screens disappeared, but not before Cistler had his eyes widened, his defiance lost. Though he controlled himself, a small shaking on his mouth could be seen. The screen label, on the top left side, was purely green and read '00 NEW CONTRACTS'. Hardscape and McCowler, whom watched the whole scene, were dazzled, aghast and a tad horrified. Hardscape because it seemed the young person, Lio Travski, was really taking it seriously to have Cistler get to work. McCowler because the two wanted files seemed absurdly real and believable, like if they were made by both the contacts of the mercenaries, the Program and the D.S.D itself.
A beep sound then came up from the communicator. Cistler pressed the button.
"And now, Aal?", Lio asked, then, challenging him. "Are your pants still clean? You could've checked those too, they're pretty much authentic, coming from the sources themselves..."
'Mother mercy, he hacked the systems...', Hardscape thought, shocked.
"What do you want?", Cistler asked, bitterly.
"Took you long enough.", Lio said. "And you know what I want. And what they want."
Cistler then stared at both Hardscape and McCowler. "Second Genesis, is it? Everything?", he asked, with a bad taste in his mouth.
"Everything you can find.", Hardscape answered, after a while. "From Moebius."
"You heard the man, Cistler.", Lio said. "But it's everything you can find, so no leaving this or that behind, just because of keeping a secret or a trump card. So it's a question, question, question of doing it, and getting away from it, or not doing it, and facing the consequences. It's on you, now, Big Aal..."
Cistler stared at both and then at the communicator, for a while. "I won't forget that, Travski...", he said, coldly. "You hear me? And I'll be coming, too."
"I could say 'you can try', but don't bother, you won't find me. Not in the real world, at least.", Lio said, disdainfully. "And it's good of you to not forget it. I really, really, really hope so, that you don't forget it. Take your time, then. Prepare, get ready and then get to work. But you'll have two days. And the faster you can do this job, exactly as perfect as I expect to be, the more lenient I might be of you..."
"Ye' expect him to get it fast and done right, lad?", McCowler asked, shocked. "None in theory can do both, no!"
"Well, then we can prove this wrong in practice, can't we, Elgin?", Lio asked, sarcastically. "And what of you, Hardscape, you agree with this? Or can we be more tighter? More lenient than this, I can't and won't do it. Not for this one..."
"Agreed.", Hardscape said, after a while, his heart racing. McCowler stared at him.
"Very well, then.", Lio said, ironically gentle. "And, Captain Hardscape, don't worry about the payment, I'll pay this check. And, Aal... If you think you can just accept it and then run away as far as you can, even towards Zerg space, remember this: What I just did, on your computer, the things I said I'd do, everything? This is just a fraction of what I can do, now. It was nice to make business with you, gentlemen. Have a nice day."
The communicator then went silent and didn't return since. Hardscape, McCowler and Cistler then stared at one another, before the two Dominion officers then walked outside, leaving Cistler's room.
The mercenary himself never felt so threatened, so puppeteered, seeing and feeling the strings now. That reminded him of what that voice, Travski, said to him at the end of that course, after the supposed 'rehabilitation'.
'I mean it! Never again, Aal! Never again! You're the real user, not me... And I'm through being used!'
Cistler, frustrated, slammed both his hands hard on the table. One of them hit the communicator and broke it, wounding his hand.
BRIDGE SECTION, DAELAAM ARK
HIGHER ORBIT OVER KALDIR
On the extensive, alien bridge of the Daelaam Ark, two glowing eyes of one same Protoss kept a strict watch over two things, one at a distance from another, both from the feeds of local Observers set strictly to keep watch on those points of interest. The first was the second, still breathing Leviathan beast nestled amidst the snow and ice. The second was the area, once the lair to the local Brood Mother, that now served as the base for the Psionic Spires and the Protoss protecting them, that were few. Only a few Zealots, Stalkers, one or two Dark Templar and Sentries kept watch over each Spire, activating their thermal shielding to protect themselves at every time the flash freeze storms came up. So far, none had been attacked. And nothing seemed look so that way. Still, Centurion Ilmig didn't let up on that. He had a job to do, and to ensure it was done properly was absolutely vital.
The Psionic Spires, unlike the towering, fleshy ones utilized by the Zerg as a genetic databse for their aerial strains, actually reminded tall towers, meant to envy Terran antennae and skyscrapers, taken out of some fantasy book, given the amount of glow they emmitted, focusing and launching upper and higher into the sky, to the moon's orbit, and the fact it took three High Templar, utilizing their psionics as their means to power the device. Like the tip of a spear, the base extended wide below, above the same metal plating seen in the settlement, narrowing to a point upwards. That point sent the beam that focused the psionics of those High Templar, in an effort to contact their solace world. One thing that made the Psionic Spires unique from the other Protoss structures was it's self-sufficiency, akin to the Nexus, thus requiring no Pylon, except, of course, when the presence of Photon Cannons and a Psi Matrix to readily warp in reinforcements was needed. However, given the absurd distance between Kaldir and Shakuras, so much that even communications were a problem, so was the warping capabilities, meaning the only reinforcements could either come from the settlement or the Ark. Something Ilmig hoped it'd never have to happen.
"Centurion Ilmig!", an alarmed voice came from behind him, as a High Templar he knew well stood before him, seemingly nervous. "We have an alarming event!"
"What is it, Ald'Alor?", Ilmig asked, readily expecting something bad.
"As you are aware we had one of the Observers keeping watch on the Leviathan during the celebration on the surface.", Ald'Alor answered. "However, none had seen that something small had exited the Leviathan, and we only noticed now, during the footage inspection!"
"What has come out of the Leviathan?", Ilmig asked. "Have you defined what it is?"
"The Observer could not determine it well, Centurion.", Ald'Alor informed. "Genetic readings indicate Zerg bio-signatures, yet Terran bio-signatures as well."
"Terran bio-signatures!?", Ilmig asked, alarmed. "That is impossible, unless the creature is infested, not even the Terrans would dare set foot on this moon! It is impossible, in their terms, for a colonization attempt!"
"And what is worse, Centurion, both are one-hundred percent of each, one distinct from another!", Ald'Alor exclaimed.
"Display the footage, at once!", Ilmig ordered, as the High Templar then showed the recording device, activated it and a holographic imaging of the valley where was the Leviathan was displayed, but also something that was slightly away from it. "Approach vision.", the Centurion ordered, as the imaging then approached as much as it could. It showed a tall, humanoid being covered in what seemed to be a Changeling, having difficulties in treading past the snow. "Pause imaging.", Ilmig ordered, then, starting to study the creature. It didn't take long to notice what seemed to be a familiar set of tendrils on the creature's head. Tendrils not seen since...
"Ald'Alor.", Ilmig called. "Have you performed a verification for psionic presence?"
"That is the most disturbing of news, Centurion.", Ald'Alor answered. "The verification has revealed a high, potentially high source of psionic power. All emanating from the creature."
"Prepare a warp pad to take me down to the settlement immediately, especially close to the Executor's quarters!", Ilmig ordered, taking the recording device for himself. "Awake him and inform him I am on my way!"
"Centurion, the Executor may not take lightly to-", Ald'Alor started.
"He shall take even less lightly to this news!", Ilmig said. "Prepare the warp pad, AT ONCE!"
"It shall be done.", Ald'Alor, though hesitating, complied as he bowed.
ZERG LEVIATHAN, KALDIR
NERVE CENTER
The flesh door immediately opened by the time Kerrigan had arrived there, being summoned by Izsha that Abathur had finally something to deliver. It went on a bit faster than even the halfling had anticipated, but, considering Abathur wasn't one for distractions and pure work, twenty-four hours a day, that was probably expected, too. At least, now, that'd be a chance to test Abathur's theory and Kerrigan's labor fruit, and a higher chance of finally overcoming the only obstacle hampering the complete effectiveness of all Zerg operations on Kaldir.
As she entered, she saw so much Izsha, in her natural place as well as Za'gara, Naktul and even Abathur, whom should've been summoned there, as he'd normally be in the Evolution Pit. There was also a Changeling present, Kerrigan knowing what this would mean. She didn't have the inclination to complain on it, though, also knowing that were doubtlessly security measures.
"So we finally got something?", Kerrigan asked, walking forward.
"Just a sample, according to Abathur.", Izsha answered. "Enough for you and this Changeling, fresh too."
"The current solution production process is complicated, my Queen.", Abathur answered. "It is produced through considerable effort, yet it takes longer and does not produce sufficient adapted extremophilic bacteria."
"Is there any however to this?", Kerrigan asked.
"However, the bacteria, through initial testing utilizing expendable Broodlings, has proven to be effective against the environment hazard, outside.", Abathur answered. "However, additional research will be required, especially from a durable, stable host."
"So you're gonna want my blood if I make it out alive?", Kerrigan asked, deadpan. "Why I'm not surprised?"
"The research of the bacteria's bonding to cellular structure, if successful, is paramount for integration within all Zerg organisms, my Queen.", Abathur answered.
"So, Izsha, same procedure as before?", Kerrigan asked, motioning her head to the Changeling.
"Yeah, but you don't need to be far away, this time.", Izsha answered. "Preferably outside the Leviathan, where we can see you."
"And how it'll be?", Kerrigan asked. "Just waiting for a flash freeze to come up?"
"I want to get it done fast, but this might just screw things up.", Izsha answered. "I hate these baby steps so much..."
"Fortunately, my Queen, we should be able to help you, especially so close.", Za'gara said.
"Then we should be able to finally investigate the source of the psionic presence the Brood Mother mentioned.", Naktul said.
"And that is growing far stronger, since your return from near death, my Queen.", Za'gara said, a tad somber. "And I can clearly recognize it is all but Zerg and more stronger than a Khaydarin deposit the Navigator suggested. I fear we perhaps may not be alone."
"That's bad news.", Kerrigan said. "As if fighting the Dominion isn't enough, what's next, we might find Protoss in here?"
"Watch your mouth, Kerrigan, that might just happen and you're just saying.", Izsha warned. "And, until we're absolutely certain, we'll keep assuming we and Na'fash are all the people in this fridge. Alright, if we're doing this, we better be ready. Dress up, Kerrigan."
"Want me to strip off, too?", Kerrigan asked, sarcastically, standing tall, extending her arms and splitting her legs, as the Changeling moved towards her. "I'd feel myself at home, this way..."
"You're not home, little girl.", Izsha deadpanned, as the Changeling started to cover her, the alien form extending, bending and twisting itself to cover her in the same way as before she left the beast. "My beast, my rules."
In a matter of seconds, Kerrigan was completely 'wearing' the Changeling, feeling the weight of the fleshy creature, smelling the rotten meat and looking downright ugly too. Abathur than approached her, extending it's limbs, finding a spot to inject the solution, and thus it did that. Another limb also injected a share of the solution on the Zerg creature, as the geneticist then backed away. Kerrigan then turned around, facing the fleshy wall that was the beast's mouth.
"It's time.", Izsha said, the mouth opening, revealing the snowy ambiance. "Anything happens, we're ready."
"See you shortly.", Kerrigan replied, getting off the Leviathan and stepping a bit forward and stopping, in the open valley, as the mouth of the gargantuan, insectile head closed, the tusks afar having some ice within them and the body covered in snow and some rows of ice, too. She just awaited, starting to feel only the slight cold, but still warm, sharing the heat with the Zerg creature, while she waited for the next flash freeze to arrive. It didn't take long, while a thick fog, a bit afar, but closing fast, could be seen on the horizon, to the left, that the Puppet Queen had an idea.
'Get off me and stand besides me.', Kerrigan ordered, psionically, to the creature. 'I'd like to try something.'
The Changeling, however, screeched in protest, no doubt being a product of Izsha and she was concerned with Kerrigan's welfare.
'Hey, I gave you a direct order, and it's still hot in here.', Kerrigan warned, coldly. 'Get off me, now.'
Though clearly reluctant, the creature got off from Kerrigan and then stood besides her, to her right, both seeing the curtain closing in fast, practically within the valley. Without the creature to cover her, Kerrigan immediately felt her body get cold three times faster and stronger as when she was on that mountain. She grinded her teeth, trying to resist it. There seemed to be nothing wrong, yet, but the real test hadn't even begun. The Changeling let out a screech, towards the flash freeze, that approached them. It let out another when it came over them.
The fast, brutal chilling wind started to get even colder, hurting Kerrigan's words, whom tried to hold her scream, while the Changeling screeched heavily, apparently like if it weren't going to get past that. She could feel herself being immobile, like if the ice started to form. The feeling was unbearable and the air just too cold to breathe, as it'd freeze the lungs. The flash freeze went on and it delivered all the blow it had, no questions asked.
However, Kerrigan still felt the breeze, not stopping entirely. The screeching of pain from the Changeling started to subside. The cold, even in the middle of that storm, suddenly didn't start to affect or hurt her so much. She started to feel her arms and legs, though clearly cold, and moving again. Less and less pain and problem to get used to it. Kerrigan opened her eyes and saw the thick layer of fog and wind passing through her. Slowly, she looked at her hands, behind the gloves of the environment suit from Phaeton, noticing they were normal. Only the arms had some ice that could be broken or melt once within the Leviathan. She looked to her legs and noticed very little ice too.
She then looked besides, to the Changeling, whom stared at her and it screeched too, like if that were a close one. She could see the storm getting thinner. Like if it were subsiding. She then knew, and once the others knew, they'd be ecstatic as well. The creature knew it too. They had made it. The one and only barrier broken.
What she didn't know, however, was that, by her skin, deep close, in a microscopic range, millions, trillions of near-invisible white fur, thinner than even human hair, grown by her whole body at an absurd speed, the adaptation forcing the growth, but ensuring nothing furry covered her. From afar and close, Kerrigan remained her furless human self, but now able to resist the cold.
The view of the horizon resumed, then, as the wind calmed down and her body started to absorb the heat. The flash freeze ended, as she looked back into the Leviathan's head, whose mouth opened, then, revealing Izsha and the others, whom noticed Kerrigan without the Changeling, the creature still by her side and alive as well.
"Izsha.", Kerrigan called. "Have Abathur make more of the juice. We're going off to a walk."
The halfling took a while to smile while Kerrigan made her smirk, too.
X
FINAL COMMENTS:
And 2014 is on. New year, new heading, but the work is still on. This chapter is finished, continuing the Kaldir arc, though I express clear disappointment. Weren't for my lack of commitment in some parts and all the setbacks, I'd right now starting the Zerus arc. Yes, right after this one and that could put the story about 50%. However, what matters is that it's not dead, it's walking on (crawling actually, given all those POVs).
And, along the way, I also got ahold to testing Arkham Origins. Basically, it's nothing much, it's just a larger Arkham City where they retconned and kitbashed the equipment (Disrupter, Freeze Grenade and stunner, basically) and the story is more lighter, on a more StarCraft II level (WoL, not HotS, that is). But that doesn't mean it's bad, at all, you get indeed to have fun with the game, but it's not on the Arkham City level, especially because Arkham City was just too good. That's about the only problem with the game, the predecessor's success considerably overshadowing this one. I've read that the developers, whom replaced Rocksteady, didn't want to risk and stuff, going to far as to introduce only the Remote Claw as the new feature. I understand it, didn't want to trainwreck the masterpiece AC was, but being all so close to the predecessor, apart only from the size, design and story, Arkham Origins feels more like an actual expansion or a mod than a game, altogether. Still, I recommend it to people to play it, because it's still leagues better than Killzone: Shadow Fall and other 'newer, more potent' titles coming out now. While Origins is predictable and all of the stuff that let down Diablo fans before, it's still much better in everything than the aforementioned title and others like it. The only newer title I could consider being above is Ryse: Son of Rome, but the clunky God of War gameplay copycat and rushed story severely jetlegged it.
Well, that's about it for a review, because a longer one would take long, this is not the place and my personal views could cause some trouble. Now let's get to the chapter. Kerrigan's arc, especially after the troubles she went, that's about for a reprieve anyone can get, setting too the stage for the HotS first mission and it's gimmick, that I'm making a global event, as you'll have noticed by the things I've set up in previous chapters. The Hyperion arc will be heading on a more typical intrigue kind-of way as tensions rise, as in K-19: The Widowmaker (A movie that sets tension to the letter and quite exemplary), hence the character development and the discussions, while everyone tries to get along and Horner tries to keep things under control.
I was going, also, to put a bit of a Mengsk one-shot POV and the speech on Nova's arc in the Science Academy, but I realized the story got dragging, especially with Lasarra's training and Cistler's introduction. So, I'll leave it to the chapter following the next one, which will be Zerg-centric and, at last, starting the PvZ I wanted. One thing I assure you is that you'll get to see the things you could expect to see, like using force fields, Dark Templar, an unbelievable mess during flash freezes... It'll take a while, especially to figure out how to flow and stuff, but everything is set up and should be applied.
Cistler's introduction, by itself, should be a new fresh air and a curious coming back and twist of events for those hardcore fans whom've read Ghost Academy and knew how it went for this douchebag and his father. You'll also find the necessary references there. PM me if I left something behind.
Well, until next chapter, then. I won't even dare to say until next week, I'm tired of saying that every time and not making the deadline, DAMMIT! Review, comment, critique, see you.
