Sewers - Augustgrad
Sighing exaggeratedly, Stukov watched and waited as Warfield carved furrows into the plascrete and degraded into incoherent growling and muttering. "It will be fairly difficult to find and collect all of these refugees if you don't hurry this up, General."
It was like trying to swim up a river when a dam has broken, Warfield was being swept away and pounded relentlessly under a torrent of alien thoughts and urges; the little bouy he created for himself, Tate, was not capable of bearing him. He began to sink, feel the swarm saturate his being just as surely as water would fill his lungs.
Sucking in air through his lungs like he just could not get enough, Horus began to accept the inevitable. Alexei would stand there, he would become a monster, and all those people running ahead in the dark would die.
"Don't float, swim. There is nothing to fight," Alexei said, voice dim under the current of voices and blood pounding in Warfield's ears.
Talons curling through the mucky, torn up plascrete, Warfield gave it one last shot. Seizing the bored-sounding words of the infested man standing near him, Horus caught the current, turned and swam with it; embracing the oneness.
It came as a legitimate surprise when, with a snarl, Warfield leaped to his feet and slammed Stukov into the wall; talons were already making a swipe for his face when he reacted.
A twisted, deformed arm shot up and connected solidly with Horus' chest, making his wild swipe miss and throwing him clean into the opposite wall. Shaking his head, he went to get to his feet again but that same hand was there; an oozing hole gaped open in the palm, acid dripping down.
"That is quite enough, General. Compose yourself," Alexei warned.
"You were going to let me kill them, you sick bastard," Horus growled, outraged. It was easy to embrace the raw fury of the swarm now, no more fighting.
"Do not be foolish," Stukov lowered his hand and eyed Warfield. "You were a liability and I saw an opportunity to fix that, I took it and here you are," he gestured broadly, "you are welcome."
Alexei's logic was cold and brutal, but it was still logic; Warfield found himself yielding to it and standing up quietly.
"Now, let's go find your refugees, yes? They are probably spread across the city by now," Stukov's demeanor shifted back to friendly in a blink.
"You're right, keep in touch." Warfield tapped the side of his head and set off at a quick pace, he would catch up easily enough; there was a stench of illness and blood in the air, Tate might have been the only one moving fast of the whole group.
His intuition proved true: within the hour, those civilians who remained untouched by the fog had been neatly rounded up and were already roughly heading towards the Bucephalus. Stukov had taken up the rear to prevent any of their quarry from leaving, the people were not convinced they were not heading to their doom; Warfield did not blame them.
I am still unsure how you think presenting these people to your Prince will keep us from being imprisoned. Alexei pondered, bored of herding the crying and sniffling mass of people already.
Horus did not bother answering, especially when Tate appeared at his side hesitantly. "Need something, son?" He admitted to himself the boy had already made a mark on him.
"Just feel safer," Tate admitted, voice a whisper.
Surprised, Warfield glanced back over the bobbing heads of the men and women they were herding. What was among them that made a boy go to a monster for protecting? "Safer from?" he said.
"There used to be more," Tate continued to whisper, adamant on not being overheard. "Everyone has been hearing and seeing things, sometimes they wander away and don't come back," his small hands clenched at the front of his dirty shirt as he spoke.
Frowning, Warfield wondered at the implication: could they really be affected without the hybrid's fog, or were these just standard symptoms of starving, terrified people? He kept his musings to himself, "You can stick with me, that's fine."
"Thanks," Tate said, staring ahead into the dark.
It will take some time to reach this ship of yours. Stukov reached out to him again after a time. You may wish to further observe these people, before you decide they are simply starved.
If they have been affected by the hybrid without the fog, then we may all be screwed. Warfield did not like the thought.
Bucephalus - Rebel Base
Mechanical whirring and heavy footfalls had been following her for a while now, and Kate Lockwell swore they were getting closer every minute. Heart racing fearfully, she could have sung with relief when she reached her assigned room; she ducked into it quickly and stepped away from the door, listening.
Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.
She swallowed hard, had they really been so close? Valerian's men, two CMC issued marines, stood directly outside her door now. When the door hissed open, lock overridden, she held her hands up defensively. "Easy gentlemen, can I help you?"
No answer, the two soldiers were silent but for the sounds of their CMC as they filed in and all but filled the room; until their visors opened and their black eyes glared at her. Kate screamed.
Their faces were masks until she screamed and scrambled backwards, then they split into broad grins. Standing on her bed with her back flat against the wall, Kate sobbed. "D-d-don't!"
"Won't hurt any, joinin' us," one intoned as he reached for her with a large mechanical fist.
Kate slid along the wall as far away as she could, until she found herself wedged into a corner and her pursuers chuckling hollowly; when the neosteel fingers of the CMC caught up the front of her shirt, she closed her eyes and grasped at the wrist of the machine, waiting for the end. It came as a surprise when the hand jerked away almost as fast as it had grabbed her.
Eyes flying open, she gasped as the two infected marines' faces seemed to twist in confusion before their visors clapped shut and what could only be described as a meaty squelch erupted from their CMC speakers. Their forms immediately fell limp to their knees, crashing sideways and laying still as she stared dumbfounded; her eyes lifted upwards to the large figure silhouetted in the door then.
"Miss Lockwell, it is good to see you."
Letting out a gasp of relief, Kate awkwardly stumbled forwards and off the bed, "Mister Tosh, you don't know how glad I am to see you right now!"
Gabriel Tosh stepped into the already crowded room and activated the door, which hissed shut with a note of finality as he smiled unnervingly. "You are pretty lucky I was around, it be true," he admitted. "Got some questions for ya."
All that stood between her and him were the large and lifeless feet of two CMCs, and Kate glanced at them before looking firmly at the Spectre's milky white eyes. Tosh was a scary man, but he was her ally here.
"I am," he said, smirking.
Crossing her arms defensively, Kate nodded. "I don't know much, but things got weird here real fast. People seeing things, hearing things... I started hiding."
"And did those keen ears hear anything, miss Lockwell?" Tosh tilted his head slightly, thick braids shifting.
"I-well-no..." she paused, uncertain; but the look on his face, that slight frown, let her know the truth was already out there. "I have been seeing and hearing things too, terrible violent thoughts." Squeezing her arms tightly together, she shook her head to dispel the memories. "They are not mine."
"You did good, hiding," Tosh tilted his head forwards in acknowledgement. "Keep away from others, Miss Lockwell, and try to keep that pretty head screwed on. That is all you can do right now," he frowned hard then, looking off into nothing, "I gotta be going."
Already, Tosh was turning and exiting the room. Confused, Kate unfurled her arms and held her hand out, as if to grab him but not daring. "Wait! I haven't even told you anything!"
Tosh tapped a fingertip to his temple as he walked out, "you told me everything."
What are you doing girl? There be infected on this ship, it all smells rotten! Tosh both sounded and felt riled.
Frowning, Nova grasped the gauss rifle she armed herself with firmly, looking upwards as she ascended into the ship via one of its lifts. Infected? How? It was frustrating to not be able to send the thought to the Spectre, but she knew he was listening; it was a one way call now.
As soon as the lift hissed in place, the air growled around her, "Don't know. It seems the dark one be touchin' everything." Tosh quietly stalked along beside her as she walked now, assessing her thoughts critically, "why did you come up here?"
Resolution filled her mind, Tosh knew the answer before she spoke it, "I am an agent, and if what you said about us being on the same team has any meaning, you won't try and stop me now that I am not strong enough to fight you." She glanced accusingly at the ripple in the air.
"You can't see what I can anymore, the darkness filling up this place like a cancer," he was grim, but she had her answer in his lack of action.
"I don't need to," she murmured, her eyes on the surroundings but her mind anywhere but there, "I remember it." Again, that voracious tenacity brimmed up and she spoke with a commanding tone, "take me to Valerian, I have a mission to complete."
Jim gestured for Sarah to wait, neither knew what was on the other side of the door; Valerian having called attention to the video feed of Lasarra in the map room blacking out not long ago. "Should have come to her right away," he muttered before activating the door, clenching the spine in his fist just a little tighter.
He cursed when the door did not move, banging his fist off of it in frustration. "Lasarra!" he shouted, tossing the spine aside; it clattered to the floor as curled his fingers and wedged them into the corner of the heavy neosteel with a metallic shriek. "I'm comin'!"
Sarah braced herself as the door caved in around Jim's clawed fists, bone blades quivering; ready to lunge at whatever might come out, be it protoss or infected.
"Be careful Jim, all the power in the area is cut off," Valerian warned into his earpiece, a little late.
With a growl and a heave, Jim reaved the door asunder and stepped aside, Sarah dashing past him into the dark room.
"Jim!" Sarah shouted, her uncertain tone leaving him rushing after.
Spilling into the room, brandishing his hands as weapons, Raynor nearly stumbled at the sight. Sarah was keeping out of arms reach, blades and claws all ready to attack; the subject of her aggression now clear. A man in a lab coat, fists clenching Lasarra's armor, connected to the seemingly unconscious and limp protoss by a black miasma.
A spine erupted from the man's forehead and splattered blood on Lasarra's smooth, featureless face, his mouth opening into an O of surprise right before a wing blade cut his head off and his body was hurled to the other side of the room by Jim; the two infested terrans working in tandem.
As the black haze disconnected from Lasarra's eyes, their familiar glowing light seemed to flicker back, leaving the protoss jerking and shaking her head, hands raising defensively before she fully absorbed the picture before her.
Both Jim and Sarah rounded on her, blades, spines and claws all ready to dispatch. Jim's aggressive stance lessened first.
James Raynor. Lasarra said, her mental voice so full of relief it left an impression. You have spared me a fate worse than death. As the protoss struggled to her feet, Jim seemed to catch on to her weakness and rushed forwards to offer help.
"Glad you could shake it off, Lasarra. I am sorry we didn't get here sooner; things have gone right back to hell," he bore the majority of the tall alien's weight as she carefully leaned on his arm, guiding her out of the room as quickly as he could. "Valerian's got a base of operations set up, we'll get you there."
Sarah frowned, following closely behind, hackles raised; the protoss could not have ignored her more neatly when they passed by. Perhaps the protoss could resist being infected, like the zerg, but it begged the question: where was the hostility?
When they strode into Valerian's chambers and a gauss rifle took aim, she found it.
"Whoa there!" Jim deftly maneuvered himself between Nova's rifle and Kerrigan's head; the two warrior women eyed one another warily. "Easy! Easy!"
Valerian stood across the table from Nova, hands raised in a soothing gesture. "Agent, please lower your rifle. Sarah Kerrigan is on our side as of right now."
"You couldn't have told her while we were off getting Lasarra?" Jim glared, still helping the protoss stand.
Torn between duty and doing what any respectable person should, Nova glowered. "She's killed billions. Billions, Valerian!"
"Aye," the air rumbled, "Kerrigan has done much," all faces but Nova seemed surprised when Tosh shimmered into view between the two groups, "but the Queen of Blades has a much bigger destiny than being put down by you or me, girl."
Surprised briefly, Jim let out a laugh as Tosh held his hand out to him, "Why am I not surprised you're still kickin', Tosh?"
Nova frowned tightly and lowered her rifle as Jim and Tosh's hands clapped together and squeezed, "Brother, it takes a lot more to kill me than a little girl," they both glanced at the women over each others shoulders and decided to not pursue that topic further.
"Don't I know it," Jim smiled, mindful of the dagger-like claws his fingers had been mutated into. A warm reception from an ally was a welcome change of pace.
Sarah shook her head, lips pursed firmly, and walked around the small group. Making her way to the large window, Nova no longer a thought; this so-called Lasarra, however... She glanced back at the protoss as Jim helped her to an ill-fitting seat.
Slumping into her chair, Lasarra's voice touched everyone, she gave the impression of being drained of energy. The hybrid are gone, but this dark influence never left. Glowing eyes locked on the emperor-to-be. Valerian, you must protect those you have left and leave this place, before we all succumb to this madness.
Everyone looked to Valerian expectantly, even Sarah's eyes wandered to him: what would he choose?
Never had he looked or felt so weary, the young man's shoulders seemed to sag under the weight of Lasarra's truthful words. Resting his hands flat on the edge of the table, he shook his head once, "No. I will not leave my people," some eyebrows raised in surprise at this, "I will recall Mira's forces and we will further entrench ourselves here. We will find a way to overcome this."
"Junior," Jim's voice softened, "this ain't some headache we can sleep off."
Already, his fingertips were swooping across the keypad, sending messages to Mira and his own forces afield. Grey eyes, stormy and sharp, flicked up at Jim for a moment, "no," was all Valerian said.
Sarah rolled her eyes as Nova and Tosh drifted away from Valerian and to their own space, as far away from the infested people as possible. "The Swarm is all that stands between us and a revived God who wants to kill everyone, what happens here is of no consequence now," she said.
"What about Matt and Egon?" Jim muttered, trying to shift the topic.
"I have the lab sealed, no one gets in or out right now, it's the best I could do," Valerian said, not looking up.
"What about the Protoss?" Sarah hissed, head snapping as she turned to look at Lasarra accusingly, "Zeratul lead me to Zerus. What are your people doing to stop this, running?"
Silence hung heavy between the group as Lasarra tiredly eyed the Queen of Blades, glowing eyes narrowing as she met Sarah's glare. I do not answer to you, murderess.
Sarah had already taken one long threatening stride towards the lamed protoss before Jim caught her shoulder, "fighting ourselves ain't gonna do any of us any good, Sarah," he let her shake his hand off, relieved she turned back away from Lasarra then. "Zeratul is the reason why I know about the prophecy to begin with, he's out there trying to make sure everyone knows what's comin'," he said with a note of hopefulness.
"Knowing what's coming, what good is that?" Nova spoke up, leaning against a wall and eyeing everyone in the room like a wolf. "Here's hoping the protoss do a lot more than just acknowledge it."
The Khalai will not stand idle while the universe is covered in darkness. Lasarra reassured them firmly, touching the khala's warmth to reassure herself too. The Golden Armada is out there, we will fight.
"That be good to hear," Tosh leaned his gun against the wall, relaxing and crossing his arms. "Not much we can do but wait right now," he chuckled, "we have some catching up to do, Raynor."
"You're right," Jim nodded, relieved as the tension lessened; for now, at least.
Haven
Stepping out of the lab, Tychus' pace slowed with a touch of awe. All around Haven was transforming, warping and breaking apart at the seams as creep erupted and oozed from the ground, the noxious purple substance began to cover everything; not only that but he felt it, the consuming power of the swarm sent an electric thrill through him.
His thoughts came full circle as his boots touched the cool steel of the ship's ramp; Jayce, consumed and converted, just like he had been. He frowned, the door of his prison hung open innocently, a flesh-stripped arm laying inside.
"Hm," he muttered, sidling around the traitorous cage. He knelt down in front of the small metallic band with its blinking red light, sliding a finger over the cool, smooth surface. Valerian's treachery revealed itself the moment he felt an invisible button give way, the heavy door slammed shut hard enough to rattle teeth in the next moment as the electrical current was restored.
"You'll get yours," he said grimly, fingering the detached loop for a moment, considering its destruction before thinking better of it and tacking it his magnetic belt. A ripple of excitement through the nearby zerg caught his attention mid ship inspection.
Welcome! Hundreds of disembodied voices chorused to their new family member. She is beautiful. Ariel whispered to Tychus directly, sending a tingle of apprehension zinging down his spine.
Hanson's definition of beauty and his were very different, but he made his way back to the lab anyways. Jayce was there in the hivemind now, all her experiences and knowledge freely available, but he avoided delving. When a malformed shadow shuffled towards him purposefully in a hallway, he scowled; she was unrecognizable but for the fact he could feel who she used to be.
Tugging the infested woman free of Hanson's control, Tychus surveyed her critically. All the symmetry of the terran body was gone, her mechanical arm was attached to a tentacle that made its fingertips clench and unclench continually; another heavy tentacle protruded from her back while her left arm had become a weapon, the forearm hardened and sharpened to an impaling point with two talons placed for grabbing and shearing beneath it.
I thought you was making better infested terrans, doc. What the hell is this? He did not know what he was expecting, not for her to be like himself, but not this. Looking up from her one grossly inflated and malformed leg, his gaze passed over the fleshy mask-like growth that covered her mouth and nose, and met her eyes.
They remained the same as they had in life, staring accusingly at him and glowing brightly orange. "You would," he muttered. Only those, a portion of her hair at the top of her head, and one leg seemed to be all that were spared complete transformation. There was something about the eyes though, he looked at them again.
Ariel bristled furiously, tugging control of the infested Jayce back and forcing the puppet to hold up its mechanical hand, showing how each digit could move and function much like a real hand. Every zerg is beautiful and unique, Findlay. Did you expect her to be like you?
"I expected her to be not useless. That ain't a high expectation, doc." Tychus said, glowering at Jayce.
She is very useful! Ariel defended her creation heatedly as Tychus mockingly high fived the mechanical hand. The zerg hyperevolutionary virus is very unstable, directing evolution so minutely is difficult. Abathur and Kerrigan were the best at it, I am only learning.
Barely listening, Tychus found himself drawn to those accusing eyes again. There was something in them, he could feel it, like a spark or a point of light. "Maybe you have some surprises left in you after all," he said, tilting his head.
I have focused on incorporating terran technology more thoroughly into the swarm. That is why I could even trick your pilot girl into landing in the first place: I have discovered how to blend the two with great success. The miniature broodmother's pride welled. She will serve you well, your brood of one. There was a note of mocking tacked on the end that did not go unnoticed.
For once, he let the jab roll off his shoulders; Ariel was his literal slave anyway. He cringed away at the thought that occurred, needing to be answered. She ain't uh...Explody, is she doc?
No. Banelings serve that purpose far better. The fact is terrans are flexible, that is their strength. It is counter-intuitive to the nature of the zerg virus and they can be made in many different ways as a result. Ariel informed him astutely.
Right. He said, having tuned her out the second she said no. Be seein' you up in space then, doc. Turning away from the pathetic creation, he jerked in surprise when something collided off his broad back with a heavy clunk. Spinning back around furiously, he looked at the cybernetic hand wiggling freely in the tentacles grasp.
Seems to have been a spasm. Ariel said, unable to hide her amusement. It happens.
Don't provoke me. Baring his teeth, he turned away again and pointedly cut Hanson off from controlling Jayce, directing the puppet to follow him; they needed some privacy. All the infested terrans and zerg of Haven were pouring up through the ground, mobilizing as far as the eye could see, and that was just what he glimpsed from between the lab and the ship.
As the ramp sealed him inside the ship with his former friend, he turned to regard her again, fingertips touching the metal loop on his belt as he thought. When the fleshy mass on her face throbbed and expanded, emitting a slorp noise, he frowned.
"What do you got for me?" he said, stepping up close to the deformed creature and staring into those glaring eyes again.
A tiny pinpoint of light revealed itself once again, hiding deep inside her mind. Everything that was personal and integral to her being who she was seemed to be scrubbed down to a dull mass, not relevant to her contribution to the swarm. Curious, he wondered at the anomaly, other zerg did not possess this and even the infested men had no such thing.
Curiosity guided him to it like a moth to flame. He stared deeply into her eyes until it felt as though his own had closed, making tentative contact with the light and feeling his essence squeezing through it, like threading a needle. A strange, peaceful sensation flooded over him and the world seemed to shift, but nothing revealed itself.
His eyes flew open when a warm breeze touched his skin and the lively chirping of insects flooded his ears. He gasped, taking a half step back in confusion as a whole new location, new world, sprawled out in every direction around him. "Oh hell," he said in alarm, turning his head this way and that.
All around was miles of triticale wheat and hills dotted with farm houses, and a bigger settlement further in the distance. He was standing on a worn dirt road, and when his eyes looked along it and landed on the nearest quaint home, he felt with absolute certainty that answers lay inside that prefabricated building.
Pieces began to come together as he started walking, determined. Details that were once described lovingly revealed themselves visually, and he chuckled softly, "Summerset. You always surprise me, sweetheart."
By the time he found himself standing in front of the well worn front door, he had a few guesses about what was going on and how this was about to go. Jayce was behind this door, he knew as much, hiding in the safest place she had ever been before the Hyperion. Could she have possibly lived anywhere more boring? He was not sure.
"Home sweet home," he said, giving the door a knock for each word. He felt his chest tighten and muscles coil as feet pattered through the house and stopped behind the door, not sure what he was ready to do, but ready all the same.
When a gawky looking teenager in a bright, flowery skirt and white sleeveless t-shirt opened the door, they both gaped at one another in disbelief. Much like what happened with her physical form, this was not what he expected in any scenario he cooked up. His brows furrowed together as he took another appraising look over the much younger incarnation of Jayce, quickly revising his opinion.
Not gawky, but youthful, maybe even early twenties; time and hard work had yet to harden her features and left her with a baby face, even more pronounced freckles on her cheeks and an overall softness he had not come to associate with the woman. Had she really come back to this place mentally too? This could make things strange...better, on second thought.
His features softened, the notion of having a fresh start with this woman never having occurred as an option either. He even considered the idea that she would come bursting out of the door trying to kill him in her private mental sanctuary like some vengeful wraith, but not this. As he warmed to the idea of this new beginning and opened his mouth to say "Hello," she spoke first.
"Are you here to take me?" she said, voice just shy of a squeak, green eyes as wide as moons.
He felt a long lost coiling in his guts at the innocent words and display, swallowing hard; it was her outright fearfulness that made him think twice about answering "Oh hell yes," like he wanted to. He thought fast: only one kind of stranger ever came to take anyone here. His lust cooled immediately.
His voice still came out rougher than usual, "I ain't here to take you, sugar." He made an effort of relaxing his pose like he usually did with the ladies, being more open with them, and leaned on the door frame, smiling roguishly. It occurred to him then, glancing over his muscled and hairy arm, that he was once again his old self; that would explain a lack of screaming in this case.
She nervously peered up at his hand as it hung not far from her head, eyes widening further before her throat contracted and she nervously fixed her gaze back to his face; relief was more obvious in her voice, "Oh...you aren't from here. Can I, uhh, help you?"
He quirked a brow, following where her eyes went pointedly before remembering the word PAIN tattooed across his knuckles. He held her gaze quietly and thought, confident she would not interrupt, though she started to fidget nervously at the silence.
He chuckled then, an idea forming; lying was one of his other great talents, after all. "Yeah, I ain't from around here, got dropped off. Came fr-"
"You came from space? In a ship?" She blurted over him, jumping and putting a hand over her mouth just as fast.
"Yeah," he smirked, she was not that different after all. "Hyperion dropped me off," he eyed her sharply, looking for any flicker of recognition across her features as he spoke, "boys in town said you could use a hand out here and maybe had some space for ol' Tychus."
She seemed bedazzled, apprehension giving way to a childish excitement; there was no hint she even heard his name, never mind recognized him or the ship. "Wow! We don't even have a Starport, this is so exciting!" She seemed to catch herself then, cheeks coloring brightly, "I am so sorry! I am being rude, you just surprised me."
He smirked and straightened up as she stepped back and gestured broadly to the inside of her humble home, "please come in. I am surprised no one recommended one of the bigger farms, we just take care of the machines here; but I am sure my father can find a use for some strong arms in the shop," her voice softened at the mention of her father and his shop, he wondered at it.
"Shouldn't let strange men in your home sweetheart," he chuckled, leisurely following her in and resting a hand on a well worn kitchen island that she quickly put herself on the other side of. "What can I say?" he took a breath, catching her flowery smell and enjoying it, "I'm a handy man."
He received another nervous glance for his comment, then a tentative smile as she turned away and opened up the fridge, "there aren't really any strangers on this planet. If the townsfolk thought you were okay enough to send here then I trust that," her head popped up and looked at him over the door, "would you like something to drink? My family is not home right now, it may be a while yet."
Licking his lips, he watched her cheeks go rosy again, wondering why he could not feel her thoughts or emotions: they were in her mind after all, and she was a part of the swarm no less. Everything felt a little off, less...in his control. "Got any strong beverages?" he smiled.
She let out a tinkling laugh, ducking back into the fridge and calling out, "I think I can find something." When she approached, kicking the door shut with her foot, she had lemonade in one hand and an unlabeled bottle in the other. "You know, this is a very small house. I am not sure where you'd be sleeping, if you and father work something out."
He eyed the two liquids skeptically, the odds were pretty good it would fall short of his expectations, but it was no matter. "You let us worry about that then," he observed her exposed legs shamelessly as she stretched upwards and pulled tall glasses down from the cupboards.
Smiling brightly and clearly warming to his company, she placed the glasses down and froze, stiff as a board, with that same friendly expression on her face.
Tilting his head, he glanced around before looking back at her. As he watched, all the friendliness, the humanity, disappeared so abruptly it was as if a switch had been hit. She blinked slowly and when her eyes opened, they glowed a sullen green.
"Connection established," a voice, so deep as to make his own seem like a tenor, came forth from the little girl.
Tychus did an incredulous double-take, scowling as Jayce's hands came up, fingertips touching together in a mechanical alien manner. "You've got to be shittin' me. No," he bared his teeth, clenching his fists, "get out of her." He thought twice and relaxed his hands, what was he going to do, hit her?
"Not possible," the alien spoke through her, observing her digits and moving them as though curious of their function. "Host necessary for communication."
Pressing his palms to the counter top, he leaned forwards and glared in his best intimidating manner, only to be met with cold indifference. "You're the one tryin' to get a hold of me, Abathur," he guessed, a silent confirmation passing between him and the parasite.
"Confirmed. Privacy necessary," her hands spread out, palms up, gesturing to the realm around them. "Preserved a portion of terran essence in order to facilitate private conversation. Free of swarm hive mind," Abathur said.
"Alright," Tychus said, eyeing the glowing green eyes of the creature with distaste. "You made all this just to talk to me, so talk."
Though showing as much emotion as a statue, there was a sense of relief from the creature, "Organism Tychus seeks to control Swarm. Not possible."
"How do you figure?" Tychus said, glowering.
Jayce's fingertips touched together lightly once again, "Broodmother Zagara. Experiencing forced evolution in order to handle full psionic load of swarm hive mind. Organism Tychus lacks this. Kill Zagara. Be obliterated."
"You're real blunt, Abby," Tychus said, straightening up and frowning, "I can appreciate that. Doesn't explain why you went through all this trouble to tell me this. You want somethin' from me."
"Confirmed," Jayce's head inclined stiffly, a perfectly calculated degree. "Broodmother Zagara leads swarm to destruction. Survival of swarm is paramount."
"So why don't you take it over then, Abby?" Tychus said.
"Physically vulnerable," Abathur admitted bluntly, "need willing assistance. Organism Tychus. Only member of swarm with higher functions not loyal to Broodmother Zagara."
"You need some muscle," Tychus smirked, "well I got that. What are you gonna give me, Abby?"
"In confrontation with Zagara, Organism Abathur will come to your assistance," Abathur said.
"And?" Tychus pressed, "I ain't just killin' Zagara and handing you the keys, Abby."
Abathur remained silent for what felt like a solid minute, staring unblinking up at him. Tychus was about to force the issue when the cold alien spoke, "organism Tychus wishes to destroy Valerian. Revenge. Acceptable use of swarm."
"Just call me Tychus, you're creepin' me out," Tychus shifted, rolling his shoulders and considering the new playing field before him.
"Confirmed," Abathur said.
"So I take care of Zagara, you protect my brain from explodin', I get to go pry Valerian's head off with my hands, and then what?" Tychus said, eyes narrowing at the creature.
"Tychus gives swarm to Amon," the creature said simply, lowering Jayce's hands to her sides, "swarm survives."
"Her and me go our own way after," Tychus jabbed a finger pointedly at Jayce.
"Acceptable conditions. Agreement?" Abathur queried.
"You got a deal, Abby," already, it seemed as though Abathur was pulling away from his host, glad to be rid of it. "Hold it," Tychus gestured for him to stop and he did, glowing eyes glaring.
"How's this all work?" Tychus gestured upwards and around with a finger. "She just stays here, this place doesn't change?"
"Essence of host remains," Abathur seemed impatient now, "organism Jayce retains control here. Tychus, Abathur, swarm. Limited control without connection to hive mind."
"So she has the reins here," Tychus nodded in confirmation, "go on then."
Abathur's withdrawal from his host seemed violent in comparison to his sinister, calculated arrival; Jayce jerked physically and gasped, hands planting on the counter for support as Tychus gathered himself. She looked sickly, pale and shaken.
"You alright sweetheart?" Tychus feigned concern, brows furrowing as he reached across the counter and tentatively touched her shoulder; she looked up at him at the touch, wide-eyed, before looking away sharply.
Cringing away from his hand, which he cautiously withdrew, she whispered, "don't know what happened, don't feel good. Sorry," her arms curled up defensively, and she was looking everywhere but at him.
Frowning, he straightened and took stock of the situation; reality seemed...stressed around them, the corners of the room and edges of objects bending and quivering. "Let's get you to bed and I'll go see if I can find your folks."
"Okay," she whispered, allowing him to half-follow, half-shepherd her to a simple room with some less-than-feminine touches to it: model ships and tools equal parts decorated and littered it.
He did not enter her room, looming at the threshold and wondering at the look, what she might have remembered. She threw herself to her bed and shifted around to look towards him, eyes glittering with the light that silhouetted him.
"Thank you," she said.
"For?" he frowned.
"Not...not being what I expected," she admitted.
Shifting uncomfortably, he felt a sting guilt at her admission, "I'm a bad, bad man...but not that kind, sweetheart."
"I trust you," she closed her eyes.
Feeling wretched, he withdrew from the home quickly and with some effort, her mind. This place needed to be preserved, so that he could talk to Abathur, he told himself firmly. As he filled his own body and blinked, staring into accusing eyes, he shielded himself with the cold indifference of the swarm.
By the time he had put the loop back on the power cable, put the misshapen Jayce in the cage and then pulled it off again, effectively locking her safely in the dark, the very air buzzed; both from the rapid transformation of Haven into a ball of creep, and the arrival of the swarm exciting the zerg on the surface.
Tentative, Ariel called to him. Will you join us, Tychus? The feeling is incredible. She sounded awed, Hanson had yet to truly meet the bulk of the swarm.
I'll be taking the ship, that rapture crap ain't for me sweet cheeks. Tychus said bluffly, settling into the pilot seat and booting up the machine with a scowl on his face. If Zagara was smart and really wanted him dead, it would happen between the ground and the Leviathan.
As zerg began to float upwards into the sky, lifted by the psionic power of millions of minds working as one, Tychus wondered. Why would Zagara bring the swarm here? He was one man, with one ship, on a zerg infested planet with no Leviathan. All she had to do was leave him alone, take the swarm elsewhere.
Breaching the atmosphere of space and meeting the swarm fleet, hanging over Haven like a cloud of locusts, he deftly maneuvered the small ship towards the capital Leviathan where Zagara awaited, silent. There had to be more to this than just wanting him dead.