Author's Note: Remember me?
There were footsteps in the dirt. They left an imprint one so trivially brief that they could fly for the incessant dust covered all the tracks. Dragging their feet as they shielded their eyes from the flight of dirt, these men knew the harshness of the land, yet would never be accustomed to this, not even after a long 4 years. They had lapse formation, an onset of the sharp decline in discipline. Though at least they were still sharp enough after all those years to keep their precious cargo in the middle while spreading themselves out in a staggered formation around them.
"Someone want to tell me where we're going?" asked a captive loudly. The bag muffled his voice.
The men sneered. "Keep quiet K-scum."
"K-scum?" remarked the other captive. "I suppose you're using the abbreviation of Koprulu scum? Well that's a derogatory term isn't it?"
"Shut up," barked another soldier.
But the captive wouldn't yield. "Why would you say K-scum? We're in Koprulu Sector aren't we? Of course then that means there's only one conclusion. The only reason you'd call us K-scum is because you aren't K-scum. So I'm guessing you're not from Koprulu sector. You're from the UED."
The soldiers froze. One, seemingly the commander, walked up to the captive brusquely and grabbed his prisoner by the collar. "How the hell did you know that?"
"A better choice of words would do you some good," was the venom laced reply.
"Well then I guess I'll keep it simple," snarled the soldier. "Move!"
The barrel pressed against the captive's back sharply. No further incentive was needed. They resumed their silent march. The characteristic groan of an old building forced the company to stop and take note. The creaking of the structure was but a foreshadow as was the avalanche of tiny pebbles falling from the building. With a deafening crash, the structure caved in on itself and shook the ground with tremendous force. The company was tense.
"Come on, let's check it out," spoke the commanding soldier.
"Come on, Captain," whined another. "It's just another collapse. We get stuff like that once a month. It's just a common occurrence, nothing to bother looking at."
"They'll want something salvaged," said the captain immediately. "We'll at least take a look. Restrain the prisoners and let's get a move on."
The captives were strung up together. Apparently they must have been strung onto a fairly tall object for neither of their feet touched the floor and the most movement they could achieve was mundanely swinging from side to side. The footsteps of the soldiers died down and speech remained unspoken until the appropriate time had passed.
"Sarah?"
"I'm here Jim."
"So what's going on?" asked the commander. "We could have taken them all out plenty of times. They sure gave us some good opportunities."
"Let's just play along," sighed Kerrigan. "It's a pain, but I want to find out who they report to. And with my vision obscured and my senses disorientated, I can barely lock on to a target let alone delve into his thoughts."
"So that whole K-scum thing..."
"Lucky guess," she laughed dryly. "But that does raise some questions doesn't it?"
"Everyone knew there were a couple survivors," said Raynor. "That was inevitable. Some deserted the fleet, some hired themselves out as mercenaries and I guess some came here for whatever reason."
Before Kerrigan could respond, the soldiers were back. Now more impatient, the company roughly cut the pair down and at a faster pace, began moving quickly. Jagged dust turned into a cool breeze. Uneven earth became paved flooring. And despite their blindness, the pair knew that they had been taken somewhere very different. Still walking, Raynor and Kerrigan were suddenly pushed to their knees. Their masks were removed quickly and the sight before them was bizarre as they had ever seen.
This place...it actually looked like someplace more fitting in a Core World. They were in a building, a very expensive building. The ceilings were high and the lights were many. Marble black floors reflected their grimy features and around them were several ornamented chairs, the kind found in the Chancellery. But this was far from Korhal IV. The pair craned their necks in confusion.
"The infamous James Raynor and Sarah Kerrigan," spoke an unfamiliar voice. "I never thought I'd see the day."
A grey haired man stepped in front of them, sinking into one of the seats with a groan. He was clearly aged and gave Raynor an uncanny feeling that this man and Mengsk didn't seem too unlike each other, even from the introduction.
"You have us at a disadvantage," said Raynor.
"Well then I see it fit to continue it a little while longer," said the old man, giving a smile that induced disgust. "Raynor, Raynor, Raynor. You're about the only man more wanted than me right now. I feel that we can understand one another. How's the freedom fighting going? That is if you still call it freedom fighting, not making a hell of a payday."
"What's that supposed to mean," asked a testy commander.
"Don't feel ashamed, son. In fact that's pretty ingenious if you ask me. Putting up a fallacy of a struggle for liberty while you raid Dominion cargo, get rich selling those alien thingys, that's a hell of a scheme. Not many people could pull that off."
Protest fell on deaf ears as the man moved to Kerrigan.
"Ah Miss Kerrigan," he greeted. "I must say, those UNN reports don't do you justice. Glad you didn't keep the hair."
Kerrigan didn't say anything. He face was twisted in confusion. She breathed heavily and frustrated.
"My, my," he laughed. "Trying to read minds before even extending a hand? Kids these days...no respect. Ha!"
He showed her a small device within the palm of his hand. It shook every so often, giving off a purple hue. Kerrigan felt drained, like she did when Dr. Hansen put a psionic dampener on her. It made sense now. That's why Kerrigan wasn't able to read the minds of her captors. They were carrying those devices as well. That's why her conjured psionic storms were dying faster than the blink of an eye.
"You know," he began. "I really should be thanking you, Mr. Raynor. I really thought I had lost it all after this grand planet fell, in no small part thanks to you. Then with very long introspection I deduced that maybe you did me a favour."
Neither Raynor nor Kerrigan knew what he was talking about but the man didn't seem to care.
He rambled on. "I was always playing second fiddle to the damn Faravays. They always got preferential treatment from the Confederacy. Their counsel was always the most valued. And their monopolies were always the ones ignored by the anti-trust commission. It was ridiculous. And now...now I don't have the Faravays standing over me. We're on our own, make our own rules, doing what we want to do."
"This would make a lot more sense if we know who the hell you are," snapped Kerrigan.
"Or if we care?" remarked the commander.
"Oh, I thought your intuition would have discerned my identity immediately," spoke the old man. "Such a shame you seem to be a one trick pony, Miss Kerrigan. Take away your psionic powers and you can't read me better than anyone else can."
The old man stood up, grinning wildly. "Well I guess I'll announce myself then. You need not know my name, as much as what group that that name belongs to..."
OOO
"Hello, I am Cathy Foxington, the new lead anchor of the UNN. We regret to inform you of some very troubling news. Disturbing as this may seem and as disappointed as we here at UNN may be, Kate Lockwell, the former lead anchor has committed Sector level felonies against the Dominion and its citizens. In these last few days, she has broken into and released Donny Vermillion, another former UNN lead anchor. He is a clearly delusional man and for precaution we must also assume that Kate Lockwell is of similar mindset right now. After breaking out a Dominion detainee, she proceeded to assault and kill an operative of the Dominion and was implicated in the Umojan embassy crisis which resulted in the deaths of 5 Dominion Internal Security officers. We encourage all citizens to be readily on the watch for this pair of criminals so they may be brought to justice and we may once again enjoy the prosperity and security of the Dominion."
"In other news, the Umojan Protectorate has officially declared bankruptcy. The economic state is dire and it faces the largest financial crisis of Korprulu history. Inflation is unyielding and some believe Umoja is destined to become the next Dead Man's Rock. In light of the seizure of financial assets, the Umojan Minister Ducos has issued a formal plea to the Dominion to repeal the harsh punishments set forth. The KMC has declined to comment. And now with both embassies to both factions closed, communications have been severed. More and more clandestine Umojan agents are being caught. The number of conspirators has reached in the hundreds at this point. Despite these many arrests, sources show that there have been dozens of extradition requests sent to the Umojan Protectorate as well as Dominion backed subpoenas for several high ranking officers within the Umojan Ruling Council. The Emperor has issued a statement encouraging all dutifully bound citizens to report any signs of Umojan presence to the nearest Dominion Internal Security officer."
"It appears as if the emergency acquisition of Wolfe Industries is finally complete. After the immediate seizure of Umojan owned paramilitary technology firm Enlightened Dynamics, the issue has been raised whether or not privately owned paramilitary corporations threaten Dominion security. The Emperor has swiftly responded to these claims by nationalizing Wolfe Industries, the leading privately owned company in the production of Infantry armoured suits to Dominion soldiers. The Emperor promises that such an acquisition while aggressive, will ensure the excellent quality and just regulation of these armours shall not longer be able to run free under private enterprise and must now be under the watchful eye of Dominion oversight and control."
"Finally, distrust by the Braxis system is-"
"Enough of that," said the Minister lightly as he flicked off the screen.
"The Old Families?" repeated Matt, unbelieving. "I'm...I'm sorry did we at one point deviate into fiction here? Because I'm not following you anymore."
"I'll say again," said the Minister, equally proud of his advantage. "What do you know of the Old Families?"
Matt met the man with a blank stare, before sighing and deciding to humour this elusive man.
"A bit, I guess," admitted the Captain. "They were the rich aristocrats during the time of the Terran Confederacy. They formed the Confederacy's Oligarchy. Every decision made either appealed to or appeased the Old Families."
"Anything else?"
"They...they were extremely wealthy," said Horner. "Each owned industry leading corporations and had massive investments in all potentially returning projects including many of the Confederate's colonial operations. And I still don't see how this connects. You do remember that Mengsk attacked Tarsonis right? He attacked the headquarters of the Confederacy and the Old Families. He wiped them out!"
"Tell me a man of your level of intellect does not truly believe that such an influential group would allow themselves to vanish virtually overnight," said Minister Ducos, smugly. "They were the masterminds behind the Confederacy. They were the ones pulling all the strings for almost 200 years. Do you really think that Mengsk or the Protoss or even the Zerg could just destroy hundreds of years of political dominance in one fell swoop?"
"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," proclaimed a stubborn captain.
"Then tell me, how hard did they fall?" asked the Minister, pressingly. "What impact did their loss make on the rest of the Sector where they were involved with every industry in some way, shape or form? Why was there no financial backlash? Why did the Korprulu economy not suffer in the least bit when the most influential people in the Sector vanished leaving a void of money, clout and power?"
"You're trying to convince me of something I know to be wrong," started Matthew Horner.
The Minister paused, intricately frowning and gazing into the young captain's mind. The captain was powerless to the man's scrutiny. He then smiled.
"Oh," he said, finally. "Oh, now I see what's going on. It's all clear to me now. Now I know why you are so vehemently defending your supposition. Ah. You are an interesting man, Captain Horner."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that what you know to be wrong is only what you know to be wrong not because you know it. It's only wrong because you believe it," commented the Minister, now lounging back in his chair. His dominance had been reasserted. He had this young man wrapped around his thumb, hanging on his every word. "You're a bit of an idealist aren't you?"
"I believe in freedom and justice. If that's what constitutes an idealist then so be it," replied Horner, roughly.
"It's a lot easier to fight for one's principle than to live up to them," spoke the Minister. "Especially in a world where the ideas you fight for are those that are as alien to us as the Protoss or the Zerg. Idealism comes from an ideal world with ideal people. Look around you son. This is a far cry of that place."
Excited, the Minister beckoned Horner close, who had been keeping his distance.
"You want so desperately to believe that the Old Families died with the Confederacy that day," he said, now more characteristic of himself. "You want so desperately to believe that. Why? Because you know now what happened after. You know that your actions did not save the Sector. You exchanged one dictatorship for the next and threw the Sector into further tyranny. So maybe you keep yourself up at night thinking long and hard on that decision to destroy Tarsonis. Maybe you lose sleep. Maybe you lose a little bit of your mind. And then the breaking point comes where the only thing you can do to stay sane, is to rationalize it. You tell yourself that you had to have done something, anything to justify what you did on Tarsonis. It had to be worth something, right?"
"They're dead!" roared Horner, finally.
"They are dead in your world, Mr. Horner," said the Minister, standing up as well. "They are dead in your idealistic mind, not in ours. The universe does not cater to your naive fantasies. It's time to grow up. The real world crushes, kicks and spits back out idealistic ideas in a heap of pragmatic ambivalence. It's high time you wake up, Mr. Horner. Face the truth. Face the horrid but very real conclusion that your attack on Tarsonis did nothing! Nothing but get more terrans killed, nothing but destroy a planet of 3 billion people, nothing but create the two deadliest enemies this sector has ever witnessed!"
The Minister's sharp analytical mind was working wonders as he dissected every inch of the now vulnerable second in command. Horner attempted to conceal his distraught, but it was inevitably clear. The Minister had gotten to him. He was the one who was going to bring Matt's world down on him. There was no ideal paradise waiting on the other side. There was no liberty switch to be flicked on after Mengsk was dead.
"You know the reliability of the Network," said the Minister, quietly. "But don't believe me if you don't want to. Continue living a lie, altering reality to fit your new consciousness. But if you are done with this childish idealism, if you want to make a real difference in the real world, take a closer look at the Systemic Chancellors. Take a look at their history and their finances. You'll find all but 2 of the 12 Chancellors are members of the Old Family chosen specifically by Mengsk."
The Minister was no longer grinning. He understood the seriousness of this situation. The conversation these two men were having, it could amount into a life defining moment. There was no humour to be had now, no ego to be stroked nor pride to be gained.
"You think I'm a fool for believing that the Old Families are dead," asked Horner, quietly after a short time. "You think I'm a fool for believing this Sector can become a better place?"
"This Sector can always become a better place," assured Minister Ducos. "But it will never be your ideal place. It brings me no joy in telling you this, but your dream, your ideal sector will never come true. Listen to me, it will never come true. Idealism and striving for that which is unreachable is to be commended only to an extent. It breeds progress. It breeds hope. But it breeds misery and disillusionment. You want to know why people like you are a rare gem? It's because this universe has no use for them. There is no place for an idealist when all would settle for less. "
As if the moments before had been a blur, the Minister shook his head clearly and took a breath. "Clearly, we have discussed things venturing away from my original intentions. I will give you hard facts, nothing more, nothing less. What you make of them is your own business. The Old Families are very much still alive and thriving. Those who weren't bought up by Mengsk returned to Tarsonis for reasons even I do not know. When Deadman's Rock found its way into the orbit of the Tarsonis system, the Old Families became the biggest crime syndicate in the sector. These are facts. Now if this constitutes an extension of good faith, I bid you adieu in the hopes that we may resume conversation upon the return of Mr. Raynor. Good day, Captain Horner."
He left the young captain to his thoughts. At that moment, even the Minister of the Umojan Protectorate would never be able to discern quite what Horner was thinking.
OOO
Kerrigan and Raynor were now sitting in chairs across from the newly named Alan Manchester. Their hands were no longer bound, but the soldiers stayed ominously close and Manchester kept the psionic dampener on hand at all times. It was not out of character for the Old Families to display fallacious civility in quite opposite cases.
"That's your story?" asked Kerrigan, though mostly convinced.
"In all its glory," laughed Manchester. "You know how much of a pain it was to set up those electromagnetic fields? Took us months of work, not to mention those damn engineers we had to kidnap...But hey, if it trapped you on here, I guess it was worth it. You wanna know a little secret? There's only one way off this planet. Stray off the beaten path, you run into an EMP field. The best you can hope for at that point is to clear the gravitational pull and end up dead in space. Worst case scenario, your engines fail before you clear the orbit and you come tumbling back into our hands."
Raynor and Kerrigan looked at each other uneasily. If they had to guess, they'd say the man was a bit messed up in the head if not downright delusional. He appeared to be talking to himself more than them. His eyes sparkled with self-righteousness and his grinned marked him with smugness. He continued rambling on.
"Should probably thank Mira. If she hadn't shown up in full force to take the Ion Cannon, we would have never considered the need for planetary defences," mumbled the Manchester. "Seems like the Braxans aren't the only ones with impenetrable fortresses!"
"It's not impenetrable," remarked Kerrigan, immediately. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's an entire fleet sitting on this world. And we breached it easily."
"Oh no!" gasped the conceited old man. "See, I was under the impression that our fields disabled all your ships upon which point where you had no other option than to land in Tarsonis constituting an emergency landing, not a deliberate stop. I was also under the impression that with the dust storm over Tarsonis, strategic vantage points are at a minimum therefore so are strategic advantages. I was under the impression that since we know the terrain infinitely better than you, then it doesn't matter how many ships you have, we'd pick you off one by one and collect your ships once you're all dead. But maybe I'm mistaken."
"Arrogant bastard," muttered Kerrigan, angrily.
"You won't hold out forever," Raynor pointed out. "You're underestimating us and you don't have a clue what you're up against."
This angered Manchester. He threw aside a glass he was casually sipping from. His face boiled red and he leaned in closely as if the heat and anger radiated from his body onto others who circumspectly backed off accordingly.
"I know EXACTLY who I'm up against," he breathed. "I know all I need to about you, Mr. Raynor. You destroyed my planet, you sacked my empire, you killed my associates, and now you want to do it again. But we're wise to your game, son. And rest assured, we know everything about you. You on the other hand...you know nothing of us except the small details we grant you."
He looked out the glass, which was blotched with several dirt stains and that which wasn't obscured saw only the infinity of dust and grime.
"Contrary to what people believe," started the man. "I own this sector! Every ship that goes missing, every pirate that makes port, every major larceny that takes place and every planet that suffers from rapidly expanding crime, we own! Deadman's Rock is mine! Even Mira knew better than to cross me. If she had waited days longer than to take that contract, we would have destroyed her and removed her from Deadman's Port with ease! But we control more than Tarsonis and we control more than the Rock. Our reach spans from Jandaara to Nephor. It touches the outskirts of Brontes and even that of Korhal itself."
He stood up, stretching his back and sighing loudly. Two guards came up behind them and secured Raynor and Kerrigan from moving.
"Regardless of what you think of us, Mr. Raynor, regardless of how big your force is, the point remains: we have you hostage. And if the Raiders even want to think about finding anything but two bullet riddled corpses thrown into the streets like dogs, they'll do exactly as we say."
Manchester opened his mouth to say more. His mouth stopped abruptly, as if losing the skill of speech. Such a break from pompous diatribe was as welcomed as it was curious. Mouth opened, Manchester began to crane his neck sideways. His eyes contorted awkwardly and his grimacing face showed signs of discomfort. Kerrigan and Raynor shared a quick confused glance. Shakily and somewhat strangely, the man raised his right hand. His fingers unravelled slowly and revealed the psionic dampener. Amazingly, it floated. It was levitating above his hand. With nothing but previous silence, the object was speedily projected to the nearest wall.
Kerrigan felt it immediately. It was as if she was living under a blanket and the veil had finally been lifted. She felt like she could finally breathe. As soon as her psionic powers came back, she relinquished them in the form of small storms around the extremities of the room. UED guards roared in pain and fell to the ground, nerves fried and bodies shaking. Raynor acted immediately as well. He broke away from stunned guards. Re-directing the barrel of the weapon away from the pair, he landed two solid blows to the guard who immediately released his weapon. With adrenaline to boot, he forced the other guard down with his swinging arm.
"Don't move!" screamed Manchester. He held a small revolver in his hand. His breath was strained and his eyes showed paranoia. "Don't you move! I- ugh"
He was sent flying back. His revolver flew from his hand and his arms went to his chest, trying to soothe his bruised chest. His hands were ripped from his chest and placed forcefully at his side. He gasped slightly and finally showed his terror. Raynor and Kerrigan were still several feet away.
First the silver boot appeared, and then the leg and then the torso and the golden hair. With a foot over the man's chest, the soldier looked fierce as her barrel was aimed only at the man's face.
"I-I know you!" gasped the man. "You-you're...you're Mengsk's kid!"
The soldier leaned close. "My name is November. Annabelle. Terra."
Author's Note: Sucess! That was pre-emptive by the way. I think I found out how to develop Matt Horner's character at long last. Readers will end up judging how well it worked but for now, I'm finally satisfied for having expanded him. And I must apologize. I made a pretty dumb blunder in earlier chapters. I tend to write only when I feel like writing, thus making sure nothing is forced or half-assed. The repercussion is that sometimes, the timing and sync is off between chapters as it was here. I really didn't want to bring Nova back so soon, but my timing got screwed up and I don't want to stay on Tarsonis too long so I had to make a decision. I'm not sure if it's the right one, but it's the one I'm going with. Anyway, please review and give me whatever sort of input you would like. I like reading praise as much as hatred anyway. And if there are any suggestions, my story is open to deviation of sorts. Any changes readers wished to be corrected will always be considered. As the poll and reviews have shown, many do not share my view on Valerian, therefore it shall be changed in the future, but not revised. Thanks for reading!