No Omen, No Country's Cause

by BlizzWeirdo

The UED returns to the Koprulu sector, and Vice Adm. Alexei Stukov must decide where his loyalties lie-with Horner's new Terran Republic and Umoja, or his long lost home, Earth. The answer is more complicated than it may seem. This story fleshes out Stukov's backstory and has OC, but remains close to canon. Chapters are serial and change POV. Has romantic elements.

20. Chapter 20: Confessions

If you can't tell, things are progressing slowly for me. But! I am going to try to finish by the end of the summer. I think I have roughly 5 chapters to go. Thanks for hanging with me, everyone!

Also, I apologise in advance to Valerian fans. But Alarak fans? There's something in there JUST for you }:3

---

It was early in the morning when Marín's datapad began to chime lowly and vibrate against the glass top of her nightstand. Without looking or totally waking, she slid her hand over it to silence it, knocking Stukov's dress uniform hat off of her nightstand. He had left it when he fought with Vermaak. She had left it there so that she would remember to give it to him. Rolling over, she looked to see who had called. It was Horner. Frowning and smoothing the strands of hair that had dislodged from her ponytail overnight, she tapped on a canned message that told him she would call him back. She put her jacket on then moved to her desk on the far side of the room. Sliding her hand across her desk, her console came to life, and she redialed Horner.

"Fleet Admiral. Sorry to wake you," Horner said, his voice a bit gravelly. She didn't remember him drinking at the funeral, but he definitely looked hungover. Marín wondered what had happened between then and the morning.

"It's fine. What do you need?" Marín said, her voice hoarse but from yelling the night before—at Vermaak. They had disagreed in spectacular fashion not only at the funeral but afterwards. He slept again in his own quarters. She found his back-and-forth draining and confusing. It was strange him not being there, but on the other hand she had slept better without him. She couldn't tell whether it was Vermaak being gone and her being too numb to care or the champagne. Horner was in a similar state.

"I know this is short notice, but could you, uh… something important has come up, and… Well, if we need to hash something out here aboard the Hyperion."

"What's happened?"

"I'd… rather not discuss it over the comm. Can you be here in thirty minutes?"

"Sure… Let me get dressed and find Vermaak…"

"Uh, leave him out of this… for now. This is a 'need to know' thing, and… well, you can tell him later if it's necessary."

Marín was puzzled but played along. "If you think that's best… I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks. Horner out."

Her console winked off, and Marín was left in her quarters in the dark, wondering what Horner was talking about. She fumbled out of her chair and into the bathroom, the light coming on as it sensed her presence. She squinted, her mind dulled by her hangover. And not any time to do anything about it. Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. I look like shit. I feel like shit. I'm getting too old for this. But she reflected that Stukov had done it as a man well past her age—both the leading and the drinking, judging from the stories he had told at Oasis—and Augustin had also until his death. Marín took a deep breath. Her chest hurt when she thought of Augustin. With Vermaak out of the room, and feeling overwhelmed with self-pity, she allowed herself to cry again. It was hard enough without Augustin, but now she was without Vermaak as well. After what he pulled at the funeral… Marín was done with Vermaak for now. She needed her space. But what I don't have right now is time to use it… Marín tiredly turned on the shower and undressed, then stepped in and let the warm water wake her.

As she boarded the Hyperion, Marín could barely remember how she got there. She remembered Gavran talking to her and asking her about the "fight" between Vermaak and Stukov. He wanted to know what actually happened. He was incredulous that Vermaak had actually been able to pin Stukov. Marín didn't say so, but she was pretty sure the only reason Vermaak wasn't dead is because Stukov didn't want him to be. She had seen what Stukov was capable of unrestrained. Marín fought against the image of the rage she had seen in Stukov's face through the blood-splattered glass of her office door. And she would never forget the terrifying noise of him slamming Oyaleni's body against it.

The thought didn't help her hangover, but she was shakily alert when the doors to the lift opened onto the Hyperion bridge. Republic tech looked very different to her. No matter the age of the ship, it looked worn. The aesthetic seemed to be rivets on top of rivets—made for durability but not state-of-the-art like what she was used to. She imagined they had backups upon backups and bulkheads protecting bulkheads. Ironically, Umojan shielding was far superior to that of Republic ships. As she looked around, she was surprised not by who was there but by who wasn't. Both protoss leaders—Artanis and Vorazun—were there, but she and Horner were the only human leaders present. Stukov and Valerian were suspiciously absent, and it appeared that Han had not been invited, though Horner may have thought his presence enough.

Perhaps he's just late, Marín thought. But she felt in her gut that something was wrong by how Horner would not meet her gaze. She wondered if it was because of the funeral. Is that why Wynand isn't here? And Stukov? But she knew that didn't explain Valerian's absence. The protoss were ominously quiet as well. Artanis slowly shifted his weight from one of his large feet to the other as if uncomfortable. Vorazun's arms were wrapped tightly around her.

"Admiral Marín. Thank you for joining us on such short notice," Horner said, barely looking up from the Hyperion's war table.

"I thought I would be the last one here," she said cautiously as she stepped up to take a place beside Horner at the war table. Artanis shifted uncomfortably again. Horner winced.

"Uh, well, you are."

"Where is Stukov?" She said, eyeing him, "And Valerian?"

"That's… what we're here to discuss." Horner tapped the war table's display. Valerian's face appeared in a video above it. As the video began to play, his voice put her teeth on edge. He was laying it on pretty thick for someone; it slowly dawned on her that the people and nation he was praising was Directorate.

"That… that fucking traitor! When did this happen?

"Nova came back with this recording from the Dalarian shipyards. She was met by Shin when going to retrieve our ships and he tipped her off."

"Well, why haven't you done something? Can't you arrest him? Aren't you the President in Exile?"

"Technically? Yes. But I don't know if that would provoke an attack from Moebius. You haven't had much experience with them, but I have. They work outside Republic authority and have always kept one foot outside officially explored space. If we captured Valerian and put him under arrest, they would turn on us or abandon us. And we don't need that right now. Especially if we're going to start fighting a war on two fronts."

"A war on two fronts? What do you mean?"

"That's not all that Nova brought back." Horner moved his hand over the war table again. A sequence of data strings and static burst from the holographic projector in a pulse of green light, but then what she recognized as a decryption algorithm began assembling an image. It was a meeting between Reeves, Alarak, and three other UED officers. One of them, Curchack, she recognized from the video with Valerian by her distinctive breathy voice. The ending of the meeting shocked her, the recording stopping with "…we move on Umoja."

Marín's body went cold. Umoja had never been directly attacked despite all that had happened in the wars against the zerg, the UED, and in the Confederacy and Dominion's skirmishes. But that was about to change. The Directorate was feinting to move on Korhal and would instead move on Umoja. Marín immediately thought about what they could do to change the odds. She knew the strength of the fleet and of Umoja's many defense platforms and fortresses scattered throughout Umojan territory. They would slow them down, but as lone sentinels in the void of space, even with the fleet guarding them it would be a game of engage and retreat all the way back to Umoja—unless they had help and more time.

"We… have to change out plan. We have to protect Umoja…"

"Of course, Admiral," Artanis said. "And we stand ready to help you."

"And so does the Republic, for what it's worth. This is going to be bad. Trying to retake Tarsonis and defend Umoja…"

"Call off the attack on Tarsonis! We can go back to Tarsonis any time."

"We could, but we'd lose our momentum. And we'd lose the chance to weaken their attack on Umoja from behind their lines"

"We could divide our forces… Stukov could…"

"Admiral, we can't let Stukov know about this."

Marín stopped, confused.

"What? Why?"

Horner sighed.

"We can't trust him to…"

"Like hell we can't. What is wrong with you people? How much more…"

"No, that's not what I meant. I don't mean we can't count on him… I just mean we can't trust him to not kill Valerian. There's a history there. Valerian less-than-indirectly tortured him and… might have been responsible for his imprisonment. Stukov killed a xel'naga for almost the same thing. He'd probably take a run at him, and to be honest I wouldn't blame him."

"A xel'naga? What?" Marín said, distracted. She was confused, thinking of his rage at Oyaleni.

"Look, that's… beside the point…" Horner said quickly, "We can't tell Stukov because he'll try to kill him… and that will tip him off that we know. If we're going to retake Tarsonis, we're going to need Moebius."

"So… what is the plan then? How are we going to attack without Stukov and Valerian knowing the real plan?"

Hesitantly, Horner tapped on the war table again. The Tarsonis system appeared above the table.

"We're going to keep to the original plan—at first. As we engage at Tarsonis, half of the Umojan fleet—or however many people you think you need, Admiral—will return to Umojan space at FTL."

"That's not enough ships. And you don't think Valerian or Stukov will notice?"

"Not with my people to aid you," Vorazun said, gesturing slowly as the field of battle changed. A cloud of protoss ships seemed to wink out of existence, and as they moved, the Umojan ships vanished as well. "We will use our cloaking technology to help you return to Umojan space—and to surprise them." Marín considered this.

"Still… we would need more help…"

"Hopefully, the Directorate will return some ships to cover Tarsonis," Horner said.

"And…" Artanis said uncertainly, "we are considering what other help we can offer, Admiral. Our phase-smith, Karax, who was responsible for the cloaked mines, is working on how to strengthen Umoja's defenses."

"Well, that was a good plan… I hope whatever he's developing takes into account all that is against us now."

"I am assured that it will! When it is ready, I will have him contact you so that you can appraise your superiors."

"How do you feel about this, Admiral Marín?" Horner said, leaning on his elbows and looking up through the map of Tarsonis. Marín looked at it too, leaning back on her heels and nervously gripping her wrists behind her. She understood why they had to divide. She was cautiously optimistic about the protoss being able to pull something out of their asses. Wait, do they have asses? They don't eat… do they? She pushed the thought away. The more nervous or tired she was, the more those kinds of thoughts tended to appear. She cleared her mind and sighed. She understood all of it and had gotten past the terror of an imminent attack on her home. And, unfortunately, she understood lying to Stukov. She had seen firsthand how his rage could go out of control. When they first met, she had to talk him down from killing Valerian—but then she hadn't seen his threat as sincere. On the other hand… his attack on Oyaleni was made under duress. I'm not sure my assessment is fair—or theirs. Most of the time, he seems pretty restrained. Marín was conflicted.

"I have reservations about not telling Stukov." She saw Horner's face immediately drop as if he had been expecting her to say but hoping she wouldn't. "This smacks of the mistakes the fleet has already made with him. Softening the blow and telling him now may be a better course of action. He is human. And he has already gone to great lengths to help us."

"I don't dispute that, Admiral. But we just don't know. I've seen him kill…" Horner said. And I've seen him almost kill, Marín thought. "And I don't know when the Swarm may just… take over," Horner said, looking to the protoss for support. Artanis and Vorazun seemed reluctant to give it. They seemed to defer to him in matters regarding humanity, and she wasn't surprised. It was probably shrewd not to meddle in affairs they felt they didn't understand. "Well, in any case, for now, we need to be cautious. And after this battle, it won't matter anyway… If Umoja is able to defend itself…"

"And he wasn't privy to the plans… he'll know we've found him out."

"Yeah, and I don't know what he'll do after that. I'm assuming he will cut and run to the Directorate."

"Will you be able to put your feelings aside if we have to engage him?"

Horner straightened. It was clear that this situation was wearing on him.

"If it comes to it… I won't hesitate to take him down."

Marín nodded. She looked back at the plans, memorizing them, even though she would get the files from Horner later. But all she could do was to think of the promise she had made Stukov and how it conflicted with what was happening here.

"I will… tell Vermaak."

"Certainly."

"Is there… anything else?"

"We'll meet once more with Stukov and Valerian aboard the Uhuru to finalize our plans and cover our asses. But please exercise discretion, everyone. If something happens between Stukov and Valerian, we'll have a mess bigger than the Umojans' mutiny, and we don't need that right now."

"We understand, Admiral," Artanis said, clearly trying to be diplomatic. "And we will contact you once Karax has finished his… experiments."

At that, the meeting dispersed. Marín left quickly, not wanting to talk to Horner, walking alone to the Hyperion's hangar deck. As she was rounding the corner and about to enter the starboard hangar, a shimmer passed in front of her. She stopped abruptly, instinctively putting her hands up to shield her face. Nova appeared in her path.

"For fuck's sake, Nova."

Nova smirked at her and offered no apology.

"You're going to tell him, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Stukov."

Marín ignored her and kept walking.

"You don't owe him anything for saving you."

"Nova, that is not your concern," Marín said, walking faster.

"This is not the time to break ranks. We have to keep together."

Marín rounded on her.

"And who is 'we' huh? The allied races? The humans? If you're implying Stukov is zerg and not human, which is asinine enough as it is, why don't we edge out the protoss? Where do 'we' draw the line at who is an acceptable ally?"

"He's not human, Admiral. You think about that the next time he cozies up to you. All he wants is his son back, and he does not give a shit about anything else."

"Fuck you, Nova."

Nova continued to match pace with her.

"And where is his dumbass son? Your Shadowguards got any intel on him?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Marín said. "Why do you care?"

"Because that kid's going to hurt someone."

"Bullshit. That's not the reason," Marín said, stopping suddenly. "You don't care about Stukov, you don't care about that kid. So, tell me why you asked." Nova's eyes turned cold. Marín's resolve wavered, but she wasn't scared of Nova.

"I want to be on the sortie to retrieve Gregory Stukov. Put me on it."

"Not unless you tell me what the fuck you're after!"

"If you don't cooperate with me, I'll do it on my own. And I can't guarantee what will happen if Baze gets in my way."

"And what makes you think that he's alone in this? And what makes you think that Horner will back you up if you screw with our mission? I got you out of it last time, but if you dick around with Gregory Stukov's retrieval, you'll have me, Horner, and Stukov on your ass. Do you just want to be in prison for the rest of your life? Tell me why you want Gregory Stukov."

Nova was quiet for a moment, her cold, blue eyes studying Marín.

"I don't want the kid. I want Shin."

"Shin?"

"You saw the meeting recording. He's one of Reeves's advisors. And I bet he can't help going after his star pupil."

"Maybe, but do they even…" Marín's eyes went wide, realizing what she meant.

"Valerian hasn't told them yet, but I bet he will. I'll contact Shin to intercept the message if you put me on the goddamn mission."

"What are you going to do with Shin once you find him?" Nova didn't answer. "Nova, he helped us. He helped you."

"What happens to Shin depends on him."

"You'll take him alive?"

Nova again didn't answer. Marín hoped that somewhere in her there was some sentimentality or loyalty, but she hadn't seen much of it. But she didn't have a choice. If the UED caught Gregory… But Stukov said his son was 'his own man.' But still the specter of Stukov's anger again reminded her that he was not always the rational officer that he sometimes appeared to be. She also wanted Gregory to be safe. To her he was just a kid and so were the other two UED officers—like she was once. And I want Stukov to be happy. He deserves that at least after what he has been through. She was also reminded of the conversation that she had with Baze while he was probing Nova's mind. He had wanted to talk to her and probably see her in action. Well, now he has his chance…

"I'll tell Baze to contact you aboard the Griffin. Bring him back alive, Nova."

The door to the starboard hangar opened a few meters away. Marín turned to look to see who was coming, and when she looked back, Nova was gone.

On the way back to the Uhuru, Marín wondered how much more complicated this situation could be, especially in regards to her partnership with Stukov. She questioned whether she should tell him about Valerian's defection, the shadow defensive position she was about to take, and Nova's new mission. One second she thought she would tell him, the next she had decided against it. For the sake of getting work done, she shelved the idea for later.

It was still early and quiet when she went into her office. Her first order of the day was to contact the Secretary of Defense of Umoja and tell them what was going on. She did so by secure missive over subspace, wanting no one to overhear or for the conversation to be recorded. It was also safer than a live subspace transmission. After getting the wording just right and sending along the files that Horner had forwarded to her, she sent a note to Baze about Nova and then set about on an order of business that she was dreading—telling her senior officers: Vermaak, Barre, and Ahlberg. She knew that it would be an eventuality if the war continued to go as poorly as it was that Umoja would at one point be put in jeopardy. But she hadn't expected it this quickly. Ahlberg would want to tell his wife but of course he couldn't. Marín would have to assure him that they would know in enough time to evacuate or get to bunkers. The Secretary of Defense would undoubtedly put the fortress systems on alert and prep the orbital defense platform. For now, that was all that they could do. She hoped the protoss would pull off something that would turn the tide of the war. Her mind wandered again to her conundrum with Stukov. Not only was it dishonest not to tell him, but with the force he now commanded, he could split his forces between Tarsonis and Umoja and be an effective screen against the Directorate. And there was no one else that she would rather have there—he knew more about the UED than anyone else. He also was, if she was being honest with herself, the ally that she trusted the most. It seems odd that it would be this way; it should have been Horner. But she and Stukov… Have become close? I guess? There's no way we couldn't be given all we've been through. Wynand insists that it's something else…

Marín was interrupted by Barre entering her office. Marín did a doubletake when she saw him. When he had come up to the bridge after the mutiny, he had looked awful—sweaty and tired. But he was still feisty then, wanting to know the details of Stukov's attack. Barre stood before her looking haunted as if he was deep in his grief, his fingers white as they pressed against the sides of his datapad. A thousand things rushed into her mind. Was it Augustin? Was something wrong with Ahlberg? Did they find Gregory Stukov?

"What's happened, Achille?" She said quietly.

"I…" He said. Then, his mouth opened several times before he could go on. "I've found who leaked your requisition codes."

"You? I thought Vermaak was on it?" Instead of elaborating, he gently put his datapad down and turned it so she could read it. On it was a list of transmissions. She immediately recognized the origin code. Marín looked up at him, stunned. "Are you…"

"Yes," Barre said. "What… what do you want to do?"

Marín sat back in her chair. She hadn't even thought of this as a possibility. But it all came together for her. His overprotectiveness, his reaction to her injury, the nagging thought that he knew details he shouldn't, why the investigation had gone nowhere. And I had forgotten about it with everything going on. She expected fury, sadness, desperation—but all she felt was numbness. There had already been so much betrayal.

"I'll deal with Vermaak. You… look like you need sleep. Go back to your quarters."

Barre nodded. "I'm sorry," he said, picking up his datapad and leaving quietly. Marín slumped in her seat. What am I going to do? Customarily, he would need to be relieved of duty. But… I don't even know who his second is at this point with the mutiny… Vermaak would still do his job. He had betrayed her but not Umoja. And he had no way of knowing Valerian would become a traitor. As far as their relationship was concerned, she didn't want to think about it. She realized she could tell Barre not to say anything. She could ignore it and pretend like she didn't know. But she knew she could never look at him the same way again. There is so much dishonesty… There was only one way she knew how to fight it—to rally the people she knew to be her allies around her. She sighed. She needed to talk to someone—someone that was outside her sphere and could look at it objectively. And, she realized, that she had decided on an answer to her shelved problem.

"Computer, hail the Aleksander."

---

Alarak had spent the past few days communicating back and forth between the three new Directorate experts—Admiral Curchack, Special Ops Chief Shin, and Chief Ramachandran. Reeves may have been in an imbecile, Alarak realized, but he at least had the wisdom to know that when he was outmatched. The three of them—especially Curchack (Despite her decrepitude, Alarak thought)—were competent in their areas of expertise. But Reeves still found ways to be annoying, often barging into informal meetings or demanding that presentations of options be presented to him so that he could make a decision. Alarak clearly saw it for what it was—a way to feel important when he clearly was not.

He was growing tired of the stupidity of this terran on terran war, though he had gained a lot for his people from it—and for himself. He would spend the first night here in the completed Highlord's Spire. The inside was sleek and black with polished black obsidian floors and dark, molded, neosteel arches. Transparent forcefields held back Tyrador's unpleasantly high winds from the towering windows on the east and west sides of the palatial room. Recessed into the floor was a giant vapor bath, and in the wall was his bed, hidden now because he did not need it. The room was a multipurpose space that changed with his whim—office, bedroom, and a place of leisure. He was using it in the last way now, submerged to his neck in the heavy, low-lying , hot, perfumed vapor bath.

He found talking to the humans taxing. Normal human minds were dull. It was a chore having to telepathically speak to them and interpret their mental response. Like speaking to an inanimate object—a table or chair… And their responses are almost as stupid. Shin was an exception at least on the front of telepathy. But his thoughts are barely audible… His power is not great. Why would he be the leader of their psionic infiltration forces? It was an alien concept to him that their leader would not be the best among them in both mind and body. Rak'shir would have spared none of them. Curchack is too frail, Ramachandran too small, Shin's power too weak, and Reeves is too feeble-minded. The obvious advantage of Rak'shir, he thought, would be that Reeves would have never made it as far as he had. Perhaps we will see anomalies like this in future Tal'darim? I will have to decide whether they warrant culling or not. He bent his legs and pulled himself entirely into the hot steam—hotter than a human could take, but pleasant to his skin's senses as he felt the scent of it and it condensed and beaded on his skin. He closed his eyes. Alarak placed one of his clawed hands outside the bath so that his skin could get air. Slipping into meditation, he could feel his frustration melting away. But then a low chime signaled an incoming message. Fury and frustration rushed back into him as he raised his chest out of the bath and steam billowed off of him, turning to a pale, milky liquid as it touched the cold, obsidian floor.

"What is it, Ji'nara?"

"Highlord, your presence is needed aboard the Wrath of the Ardent."

"For what, Ji'nara?"

"There's… something you need to see."

"For void's sake, Ji'nara… What have I told you about your needless theatrics? Just tell me what is wrong!" He said, impatiently tapping one of his naked claws on the stone floor.

"The zerg, sir."

"What?"

"A large force of augmented zerg have appeared. We believe Stukov…"

Alarak, wet and naked, leapt up from his bath, his pale skin covered in rivulets of solidifying gas. He scratched at the floor and a closet appeared. Brushing the wet from his skin, he quickly donned his armor. Stukov. The gall of him returning here after that stunt he pulled. No matter. The hubris of thinking he can best me… It will be his fatal mistake! As he fastened the last of it around him, he called to Ji'nara.

"Ji'nara! Bring me aboard!"

The room fell away and Alarak got a quick glimpse of a repeater station before materializing aboard the bridge of the Wrath of the Ardent at the edge of the Tyrador system. Alarak stopped and looked at the intricate overlays spread out on the open starfield all around him. He could feel the psionic power of the zerg around him, but it was different. It was not what he remembered from fighting beside Stukov. But as he read the displays, he realized the zerg here were different as well. They had advanced evolutions. The mutalisks outside were barely recognizable except for their basic structure. They had four wings instead of two, and the skin between them was almost transparent. A large, stinger-like protuberance jutted from the lower portion of it. It appeared as if they had been hyper-evolved for stealth and hit-and-run bombing. Alarak didn't think Stukov capable of that kind of manipulation of the zerg this quickly—even with Abathur. But on the other hand, if the mutalisks had stealth, that was obviously an idea borrowed from terran technology. But there was one way to know for sure…

"Where is the Aleksander?" Alarak said, rounding on Ji'nara.

"Our scans haven't been able to find him amongst this brood."

"Hm. Have they engaged us?"

"No, Highlord." Alarak's eyes scanned the overlay again. Their numbers were truly impressive—four mutated leviathans commanding a force that the computer was still finding and tabulating.

"Then… what?"

"I'm receiving a transmission…"

Alarak's brow furrowed. Perhaps it is Stukov. He would want to goad me first—as he did before. Alarak raised a claw to signal Ji'nara to open a channel. To his surprise, the communication system's holographic interface was filled with the broad head of a brood queen and not Stukov.

"Hail Alarak, Highlord of the Tal'darim."

It took a moment to realize it was not Zagara. Even so, Alarak saw that the resemblance was superficial. This brood queen was dark and small, angular, and covered in a shiny, red and black chitinous armor. On her back were four transparent wings, much like the mutalisks outside. Its claws were longer than a normal brood queen, and so were the teeth on its mandibles.

"And to whom am I speaking?"

"I am Drezsera, challenger to Zagara. I wish to join forces with the Tal'darim and the humans called the Directorate. We will assist in subduing this sector. But if and only if we continue on to destroy Zagara and all other challengers to the Swarm!"

---

After a good night's rest, Stukov thought he felt better. Not better… more normal. The "euphoria" is gone. He almost missed it. The emotional and physical arousal… I felt more alive. But he was glad it had passed. He was able to look at things more clearly now. Earlier in the morning, he had finalized his plans with Izsha and Abathur. The last detail was to speak to Jansa about fitting him with some sort of shielding that would keep him from being neutralized by the UED's psi disrupter devices. Stukov had just returned to the Aleksander from the Leviathan when the call from Marín came through. It was early—too early for Oasis, but she had asked him to meet her there without telling him why. He had accepted the invitation without question, though he realized he shouldn't have. He was wary of seeming overeager.

Decontam was annoying as always, but as he slipped on another rankless, Umojan uniform, he felt less self-conscious. The crew of the Uhuru walked past without seeming to notice him being any different. And he noticed some peculiarities among the crew that he had not before. There were plenty of them that had cybernetic limbs or eyes. He realized that he didn't look anymore strange than they did—Now that I'm not dripping with creep. He began to picture himself after the war. Indulgently, he imagined himself on Umoja—not any of the Terran Republic worlds. Stukov had spent some of his night before nodding off searching for pictures and videos of the planet, particularly seaside areas. There was of course a lot of coastline but based on what Marín had said to him—that Oasis reminded her of home—he guessed it was somewhere tropical or Mediterranean-like in climate, and there were only a few of those that weren't purely resort destinations. He imagined himself walking along boardwalks he had seen near the beach with his son and Marín. Stukov felt a twinge of fear wondering if the shadowguards had deployed yet to find his son.

The door to Oasis wasn't open when he arrived. Of course it isn't… What time is it? Eight? He pressed the button on the door.

"State your name please," the computer asked calmly.

"Admiral Alexei Stukov."

"Whitelist voiceprint verified." The door slid open for him and he hesitantly entered. Oasis looked very different. It was silent and the lights were on full. The bar's projector wasn't on, revealing the starfield and the Beynac outside. All the tables had their chairs stacked on them except one—the round corner table that Marín and her officers had sat at before. Alone at it was Marín, a single white mug in front of her. She didn't look up when he entered; he had to cough to get her attention as he stood at the table.

"Oh! Thank you for getting here so quickly… Sorry, please sit down."

"I'm… surprised you called me here… now."

Marín sighed heavily. "Yes, sorry it's early… and I know how we left it, but…" Marín didn't continue but looked back into her cup instead. Stukov was going to take a seat across from her but instead sat next to her. With the whitelist there's no chance of Vermaak coming in unannounced.

"Coffee? No mai tai?"

"Hah. No, not this early. And it's tea… I don't do coffee…" Marín paused again, clearly unable to say what she was thinking. She started laughing nervously, "I guess I need the mai tai." Is it Vermaak? Stukov thought. Did Barre already find evidence of the leak? He felt a wave of nervousness thinking that what he had put in motion was already coming to fruition. Stukov was unsure if it would yield the results that he hoped it would—the ending of her personal and professional relationship with Vermaak.

"You can talk to me, Marín. What is it?"

"We talked about being honest with each other… "

"Of course," Stukov said, leaning closer to her, curious to know how the conversation would progress and his mind grasping wildly in both optimistic and pessimistic directions from a declaration of love to her telling him she would never speak to him again for asking Barre to look at the requisition codes.

"I've been told not to tell you this but… There's a traitor in our midst." Stukov was relieved. It is Vermaak. Barre must have found the damning transmissions. It is as I thought. He did give Valerian the codes!

"Valerian." A look of puzzlement spread across Stukov's face as he looked at her. He sat back in his chair, blinking at her.

"Valerian? What has he done now?"

"When he went to the Dalarian Shipyards, he defected to the UED admiralty there—to Admiral Curchack."

"He what?" Stukov shouted. His voiced reverberated in the empty room. He crouched down slightly in embarrassment. "Then he is gone? He left the fleet?"

"No, he doesn't know that we know…"

"Good. Then we can…" Stukov said, beginning to think of ways to force Valerian's ship, the Oppenheimer, away from the Moebius fleet.

"No. You're not supposed to know." Stukov sat back again, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"This morning I was called to a meeting on the Hyperion with Horner, Artanis, and Vorazun."

"I wasn't invited?"

"No, but I didn't know that until I got there." Stukov made a disapproving noise at this.

"Why? For what purpose keep me in the dark?"

"They were afraid of your reaction… That you'd kill him immediately. Horner said something about you killing a xel'naga?"

"Xel'na…? Oh, that. The xel'naga had it coming for a long time. And Valerian is much the same. But that doesn't mean I'd kill him where he stood."

"I… wasn't sure either how you would react… after Oyaleni."

Stukov considered for a moment. The incident would weigh between them for a long time. He would have to atone for it. As he would Vermaak's attack.

"I understand if you don't trust me…"

"Trust? I'm running out of options," Marín said, laughing nervously. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. You're about the only person I trust at all anymore…" Marín sighed heavily and then launched into a detailed account of the contents of the meeting—that Umoja would be attacked, and that they needed Valerian at least until the fall of Tarsonis.

"You want me to help you."

"Yes… can you safely divide your fleet and follow Core Fleet back to Umoja?" He acted as if he was considering it, though he had already made the choice. Of course he would follow her into battle. He would follow her into the gates of Hell if she had asked him to. He'd gone into the gates of Hell for less.

"I can leave Izsha at Tarsonis. We should be able to keep in radio contact. Grellna's brood is large enough that we should be able to give support on both fronts. Vorazun is coming too, yes?"

"Yes. And the protoss have something they're working on that should help us."

"Well, I hope this 'something' comes quickly and is effective."

"Me too," Marín lapsed into silence.

"If that's… all you wanted… I'll need to prepare a new plan... And Jansa—" Marín grabbed Stukov's hand as he stood to leave.

"Wait… I have something else to tell you. In fact, I have a lot of things to tell you." Stukov sat down again. His mind started working, spinning at the possibilities of what she would reveal to him.

"First, let's start with this. I spoke to Nova. She wants to accompany Baze and the other shadowguards to find your son."

"Good. Nova seems like someone who at least produces results."

"That's not wrong, I guess. But she also doesn't give a shit about anyone else. She's going because she's entrapping Shin. Is there any way you can contact him?"

"No. He said that he knows me, but I do not remember anyone by that name or know a way to contact him. What does she want with Shin?"

"Intel I guess. Or to murder him and hobble their intelligence machine. Maybe she won't catch him. But I'm kind of worried about Gregory if she uses him as bait. I only allowed her under duress. She made the point that Valerian would try to tell the UED and that she would contact Shin and make sure his message was intercepted."

"Valerian contacting the UED? Nova contacting Shin? Has everyone gone mad?"

"I know. It's like a game of rugby and your son is the ball."

"At least I can thank you for the warning." Stukov stewed over what she had said, "If you have any information, you will share it, yes? I may send my own units after him as… insurance against Nova—and the UED."

"I will. And I won't stop you. Just… don't interfere with Baze and his team."

"And… the last part of this… You're the only one I'm telling for now. We…" She moved closer to him, speaking softly, her nearness made him feel euphoric again "…we need to be a united front, you and I… and I need someone with your experience. I need your advice—and your honesty." Stukov felt like he knew what was coming now. "I don't know how, but Barre has discovered who was behind the leak and it's…" Marín's face darkened and Stukov sensed she was on the verge of tears. Reflexively, he pulled her to him. "It's… Vermaak." She pushed away. "No, I'm fine," she said, wiping away her tears. "I just… how long has this been going on? Oyaleni and now Vermaak? I have so few people I can trust now. I'm glad you're here… someone who is completely honest with me. We need to keep it that way." Stukov felt awful now—because he hadn't been. He had lied to her about his row with Vermaak and did not tell her about tipping off Barre. He had been dishonest about his transformation and about his reasons for helping her. Marín hadn't been honest with him about her relationship with Vermaak, but it had apparently been Vermaak who wished her to conceal it. Stukov weighed his options. If I continue to hide my motivations, there may come a time when I can't any longer. It will be seen as another betrayal. He decided to wait to see how she handled Vermaak.

"What are you going to do?"

"The logical thing would be to remove him from duty… But I can't do that. I need him on the front lines. I can at least rely on him to follow orders."

"That's not what I meant. What about you and Vermaak?"

"I… I haven't done anything yet but…" Stukov suppressed the urge to tell her to throw him out an airlock. "I'm going to transfer him to another ship. The Liberté probably… It will seem natural since that was where Oyaleni was stationed. He'll take over from there."

"Ah. Separation…"

"No, more than that. It's over. It's been almost over for… months. His behavior… And now this." Marín laughed again briefly. "Wow, I'm sorry I'm telling you all this. I guess when I lay it out on the table, I lay it all out." Stukov felt his stomach—or what used to be his stomach—churn. He knew what he had to do. Hopefully she won't hate me for this…

"No, it's fine," he said, taking both of her hands. "We do need to be honest with one another. And I need to be honest with you."

"About… what?"

"Vermaak. At the funeral, I said I goaded him, remember?"

"Yes," she said, regarding him suspiciously.

"I did it for a reason—I wanted to see into his mind. I'm not… good at telepathy unless I'm in close contact with the zerg. I can read people if they want to be read. Otherwise I get strong pulses of emotion and images. And I kept seeing something in him. I finally realized what it was that night… the requisition codes."

"You knew? Then why?"

"I couldn't come forward with vague information. I lied to Barre and insinuated Oyaleni was a suspect and that Vermaak was covering for her. He found Vermaak instead."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She said, anger tinging her voice.

"Would you have believed me? Even if you did, what would people have said? That you investigate my whims? I thought it was the only way; I'm sorry." Marín's demeanor changed. She looked at Stukov searchingly.

"Was… Vermaak right about you? Is that why you chose now to follow through on the information?"

"What? No. I wasn't sure until now," Stukov said. He was tempted to leave it there. "But… he was right." Marín pulled her hands away.

"What do you mean?"

"Renata, I… I haven't met someone like you in a very long time."

Marín stood up and started to walk away angrily. Without thinking, Stukov grabbed at her with his infested arm, accidentally clawing the back of her wrist. She yelped and walked more quickly away.

"Stop! Please. I…" He thought she was leaving, but she moved to the window, cradling her arm and looking out at into the darkness. He stumbled out of his chair, it making an awful sound that made her wince as he got up. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Let me see it." She reluctantly turned to him. The cut was surprisingly deep. "I can heal this. Do you want me to?" She said nothing, and he clasp his hand around her wrist, secreting the mutagen on her skin. It should relax her a bit as well… When he was done, she pulled away again and returned to staring out towards the Beynac. He could see the reflection of her face in the glass—and his own. He stood closer to her. In the window, his reflection looked remarkably like it had before he had come to the Koprulu sector. There was no color in it and no eerie glow from his eyes reflected in the glass. Marín, of course, looked the same. He thought they looked good together but wouldn't remark on that now.

"I thought you wanted to be my mentor. That maybe you saw yourself in me. Not that you wanted…"

"I do, Renata. And I don't want you to make the same mistakes. You forget that I was betrayed by a fellow officer as well—and look at how that turned out," he said, gesturing to himself. "And I know that nothing can be gained by duplicity. I think back at how if I had stood up to Gerard—my commander—and not gone behind his back, then maybe this would never have happened to me. I don't want the same for you."

"Yes, but it's because you have feelings for me… not because you respect me or…"

"Renata, that's why I have feelings for you. You are smart and capable and have an unfailing moral compass. You've put your life on the line for me—and my son—why would I want anyone else?"

Marín was silent. She wrapped her arms around herself.

"You don't have to say anything. You don't have to do anything. I know that you were with Vermaak for years. But maybe… when this is all done."

"If we both even survive."

"Yes, if we both survive… you'll think about it?"

Marín said nothing.

"Hey, turn around and talk to me. Please?" He said, gently putting his hand on her elbow. Slowly, she turned to face him. "Tell me to my face. Look me in the eye and tell me for certain you don't want that. That you have no doubt. That you haven't thought about it at all."

"Alexei…" Marín said, suddenly sounding tired, "I really don't need this right now."

"I know. Friends then? For now?"

"Friends," Marín said. "Friends that tell each other everything especially when it has to do with this war."

"Of course."

Marín rubbed her face, looking tired again.

"I should go. I need to process Vermaak's transfer before Barre accidentally tells someone. I told him to take the day off…"

"He's a communications officer, and he's definitely a communicator."

"Yes…"

"If you need me, I'll be here… Jansa's going to fit me with a CMC. That will take some time. I'll probably be on the Uhuru until our meeting in a few hours."

"Oh… right. Okay…" she seemed distant, retreating into her thoughts.

He took her hands briefly and then turned to leave. As he got outside, he felt relieved. It wasn't a no. I'm an idiot for pushing her, but… If I can keep my head out of the Swarm… But he would have to immerse himself again to fight and also to marshal a force to track down his son when the time came.

Stukov was still ruminating on his discussion with Marín as he neared the hangar: Vermaak's ouster from her life, the battle ahead, Horner and Valerian's duplicity, and his son's disappearance. All told though, it wasn't the worst-case scenario. At least he knew where he stood in all of it thanks to Marín.

When he walked into the starboard hangar bay, no one noticed. He was another Umojan on his way somewhere. He dodged soldiers and engineers buzzing through the bay on hovercarts, a group of goliaths going through movement diagnostics, and an Umojan version of reapers testing their jump packs. He had just reached Jansa's shipping-container office when a klaxon rang out and the lights in the hangar began to strobe. The forcefield snapped on with a loud electric hum and a small squadron of liberators followed each other one by one out into space for, Stukov surmised, some practice maneuvers. He stopped and watched everyone around him; it was like stepping back in time. Years ago, he would have been here, giving orders or even at one time participating in maneuvers himself. It made him feel old and young simultaneously.

Someone whistled sharply behind him, and he turned. Behind the far end of his office, Jansa was waving at him. The reverie left him, and he jogged over to join her.

"Bit loud in here, isn't it?" Jansa said. She was wearing ear protection, her coarse, golden hair feathering out in all directions behind the tight band holding the earpieces together. She picked another pair out of her toolkit and offered them to him. He declined them. "Suit yourself!" She eyed him. "You look great, by the way. You were kind of a mess the first time I saw you—no offense."

"It… had been a rough day for sure."

"Come around back. I got your measurements from Dr. Laurent's scans. Hope ya don't mind." Stukov shrugged at this. "They may be a little outdated though, looking at your arm…"

As he rounded the corner he saw it. A CMC all in black. Its chassis was obviously an Umojan CMC, but Jansa had stripped it completely and rebuilt its plating. It was angular—more so even than a Republic CMC—and more menacing. It looks like a Thor in miniature—or something a reaper would wear. It had a thin slot for a visor instead of the normal transparent shielding, and up the back was a reinforced spine to protect the back of his head. The most noticeable difference though was the suit's left arm, which was much larger than the other and did not end in a hand. Stukov walked around it, examining it. He thought it was excellent work for such short notice.

"I ripped apart one of our newest CMCs—one that had a lot of shielding already for EMPs. Got a big shipment of those after what you pulled with Admiral Marín… and I reinforced its shielding and put it all back together. I tried to think of what you might encounter onboard a ship or on the ground… Thought most of your enemies would go for your head if they couldn't neutralize you. So you have a lot of cranial shielding—especially in the back. But don't think you're invincible. More than a few shots from a sniper rifle and it'll get a hole in it like any other CMC."

"If I'm stupid enough to stand in the line of fire, I deserve it." Stukov ran his hand down the left arm and raised an eyebrow at her quizzically."

"I'm real proud of that, actually. The cap at the end pops off. You can get your hand out. It also has some room to expand in there. The arm's forcefield will snap around your shoulder and the upper and lower arm will open up in five vents. It can expand up to ten times its size. If for whatever reason you exceed that, it'll just pop off and the forcefield will stick as long as the suit has power. But you don't need oxygen anyway, right?"

"No, but I do need to communicate."

"Right. Should keep air in the helmet of your suit for a bit, and there's an emergency transponder in it like any other Umojan suit."

"Fair enough."

Jansa grinned at him, and he noticed she had a smudge of oil on her cheek and above her eye.

"You wanna try her out?"

"I would be remiss not to. I haven't been in a CMC in years. I need at least some time in one even if the chances of me being on the ground are minimal."

"Hah! This'll be fun then."

From experience, Stukov knew where the release on an Umojan CMC was. It opened slowly, its panels weighed down by the extra shielding.

"Eh, I can fix that," Jansa muttered as Stukov climbed up into the CMC after two abortive attempts. He was not as tall as most soldiers and getting in without much practice was at first a bit difficult. But his right hand found the grips for the arm interface on the inside, and his other arm slid easily into the blunted cover. He wondered how Vermaak, who was a smaller man than him, could get himself into a CMC. Stukov imagined him having to get a small ladder to get in and chuckled to himself. Concentrating back on the task at hand, he swung his left arm up to look at it.

"There's no weapon on this side?" He said, examining the blunted end.

"Figured you were enough of one without it, but I could throw something together. Blades? Laser? More hot lead?"

"Blades. There's an idea. Something I could also use as a shield," he said, bringing his arm across him.

"Ah, there's a thought. Like a black knight. I like it. Might make that your callsign," She looked him up and down. "Can you figure out how to walk in that thing?"

"Just a moment." Stukov pushed his heels down, putting the ball of his foot on the control mechanism. It was like a combination of running and riding a horse augmented by sensors that could read the nerve impulses in a marine's muscles. If you aren't used to it, your legs feel like hell afterwards. Good thing I feel like hell all the time. But that's not true anymore… I wonder if I will feel this later? I doubt it. I don't think Abathur made me that human. Stukov took a few first cautious steps.

"How's it feel, Admiral?" Stukov fumbled for a moment before finding the COMM.

"There's a lot of resistance… More than I'm used to." It took a great deal of effort for Stukov to move the legs—more, he thought, than a normal human could muster.

"Probably the weight again. I can put some higher-power pneumatics in there."

Stukov got the hang of it and trotted around in a circle. He pulled a rifle from a concealed panel on the back. The motion was automated so he didn't have to find it consciously.

"Good. Try the other arm now."

"I'd… rather not."

"Why?"

"It's… painful."

"Oh… Well, that's a problem, because I have no idea how it'll hold up."

Stukov sighed. Abathur did say that it would cause me less pain now.

"Give me a target."

"Vermaak's bike is parked over there. Knock it over."

"Are you sure that's wise? I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Got a message he's getting transferred. I'll just say it was improperly secured in cargo."

"Do you not like him?" Stukov said, slightly alarmed at how quickly Marín had moved on his marching orders after he had left.

"Yeah, he's kind of a prick. Typical soldier. I don't know what Marín ever saw in him. Don't know what has made her want to kick him off the ship, but it must have been something pretty bad. Now. You gonna trash his bike or what?"

"Yes, fine," Stukov said, You don't have to give me a good reason, Jansa, he thought, bracing himself. He willed his arm to reach out to Vermaak's vulture, and the familiar pain started as the arm expanded quickly, building sinew and tendrils. But the pain reached a certain point and plateaued. He felt the metal of the CMC move with the expanding surface of his skin as the arm opened and his claw thrust forward towards the bike. Clutching it, he gave it a squeeze and the bike bent slightly. Jansa laughed boisterously at the bike's partial destruction. Stukov let go, and his arm sloughed off, becoming a puddle of creep on the ground. His real arm had never left the suit. Jansa walked over and looked over at the creep on the ground and frowned. She sighed and pulled a communicator out of her coveralls.

"Can I get a hazmat team over here?"

"Sorry. Should have warned you."

"No big deal. You gum up the works any?" She said, examining his arm.

"I don't think so."

"Huh. Well, I'll say that was a successful movement test… a few tweaks, and I think we're ready to go…"

"Have you tested the shielding?

"Yeah, but… uh…"

"Not with a live subject inside."

"No… you're the only thing around that would be, uh, disrupted."

"Do you even have a way to test?"

"I got ahold of a psi disrupter schematic. I built a portable one… Not much punch but safer, and I think from that I can run computer simulations, but those aren't always accurate. You up for a test?"

"Yes, but… you might want to get a med team down here… And evacuate the area. Who knows what might happen if I'm fully incapacitated or somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness?"

"Dude, if you get infestation all over in here…" Jansa walked away briefly and used her comm to call Dr. Laurent. In a few minutes, Dr. Laurent was grumpily standing beside them, her glowing blue eyes looking the CMC up and down. She picked up the small, cobbled-together psi disruptor device that Jansa had taken out of her office. Dr. Laurent handed it back to Jansa and crossed her arms in disapproval.

"I was under the impression that in this century we Umojans relied primarily on computer calculations."

"We do, Doc, but this is different. We don't have the data to extrapolate how Stukov will react to disruption." Jansa turned to Stukov. "You ready, Admiral?"

"Yes," Stukov said, wincing.

"All right… I've got a kill switch for both the CMC and the psi disruptor, but if anything goes wrong, you might want to step back, Doc." Jansa also used her communicator to make everyone clear the hangar. "Here goes…"

Jansa switched on the psi disruptor. He didn't feel anything at first, but then it was like something was vibrating against his skull and like his teeth were going to rattle out of his head. He felt blood trickling down from his nose. Stukov tried to tell her to stop but couldn't find the words. His mouth moved, but he couldn't speak. He again thought about how ironic it was. The device he had died for was now able to kill him. Thankfully, Dr. Laurent was there monitoring him and realized he was in distress, telling Jansa to hit the kill switch on the disruptor. Jansa tore open the CMC, and Dr. Laurent helped him out and onto the ground. Shielding snapped around Dr. Laurent's hands and face as she knelt over him. She yelled at Jansa to stop touching him and to stand back. Dr. Laurent did not want Jansa to be contaminated by Stukov's blood. But once the psi disruptor was off, Stukov immediately began coming back to himself. He sat up slowly and put his sleeve to his nose to staunch the bleeding.

"Let me scan you, I…" Dr. Laurent said.

"I'm fine," Stukov said, his voice muffled behind his wrist. He waved her away and started to stand. "Better than I was the first time."

"I don't think that worked at all. I'm going to have to think of something else. Dammit!"

"The first time I was hit with the disruptor, I suffered a massive stroke. I had similar symptoms this time, but I survived. In battle, the disruptor won't be that close. Keep honing this design. You're on the right track."

"All right. I'll run some simulations with that data. Maybe if I changed the polarity of the shielding… I may need you for another test."

"Jansa, that is out of the question. If he suffers a stroke or a seizure onboard, I don't have a way to treat him. And what if…"

"I'll be fine, Doctor. I can have Izsha ferry me back to Abathur. Don't worry."

"It's not you I'm worried about. What if you lost control of your infestation while you were incapacitated? What if you infested the whole ship?"

"That's not gonna happen, Doc! Chill!"

"I agree that is unlikely—and not what happened the first time I was incapacitated."

"And this won't be similar in any way. If you do this test again, I want more than me here, got it?"

"Okay, that's fine. It's cool, Doc."

Laurent gave both of them a hard look with her eerie blue eyes and left.

"Renata said she would warm up to me… I don't believe she will."

"Renata, huh? You're on a first name basis now?" Jansa elbowed him in the ribs. Stukov was caught off guard by this and stammered for a moment.

"I… it seems so. I don't really stand on formality. If you want to call me Alexei, you can."

"Nah, I get it. You saved her life, she saved your life… Speaking of saving…" Jansa walked over to her toolbox again and fished out a small tin. She looked around and then waved for him to follow her behind her office.

"I've got about a three by three-meter blindspot over here… And I've disabled the fire alarms around the crate," she said, gesturing to her office. She slid open the small box and grabbed something out if it, snipping the end off with pilers. "Here." It was a cigar.

"I… I haven't had one of these in years!" He said, rolling it around between his fingers.

"Dropping one down your pants put you off 'em?" Stukov was bewildered for a moment, then remembered he had told the story of dropping the cigar into his CMC in Oasis.

"Oh, no. I used to love cigars. I ran out years ago. I couldn't taste them anyway… but maybe now?"

"Maybe now what?"

"Maybe now that I'm a little more human it will be different."

"Hey, maybe so! Special day for you then. First cigar after…" she gestured at him vaguely "doing whatever you did to yourself."

She leaned against the wall and sat down on the floor. Stukov found an overturned bucket and slid it over to use as a stool. Jansa fished a lighter out of her pocket and lit herself a cigar and then lighted Stukov's. He took the first drag from it, not knowing what would happen. After his infestation, he had kept the habit since he could at least smell them if not taste them, but it was different. Being able to sense smoke is beneficial to survival… so the Swarm left me at least that. But it would also billow out of his face. When he ran out of cigars, he didn't procure anymore. He found himself not wanting them as he had before. The Swarm wouldn't allow him any addictions. As he inhaled, he found it lighter than what he would have bought for himself, but he could taste it. Beggars can't be choosers.

"Are these Umojan?"

"Yep. Grown in the southern hemisphere—where most of our agriculture is. The same region does cognac and Armagnac and ciders as well. It's a great place to visit. Pretty. Stay classily drunk and smoked up the whole time."

"All of those things come from the same region on Earth… or they used to. I'm sure it's all been commandeered for something or another now…" Stukov reflected on Earth. It was a beautiful place but vanishing quickly. His summer house had been off the beaten path up until he had left, but places that had been known for their beauty for centuries were being crowded in and plowed under. A new world. How different that would be. "I'd like to visit Umoja," Stukov said suddenly. "Renata grew up in a seaside village, yes?"

"Yeah, Lindos. She still lives there when she's home. She inherited a condo from her folks. Didn't have any siblings to fight her for it. Makes good money renting it out while she's gone."

Stukov had looked at Lindos and suspected that was one of the towns she might have been from. It was named after a village on the Greek island Rhodes. He had been there with his own family, and of the pictures he had seen, it was a close likeness. The town had leaned into the similarity to the Greek climate and had adopted a modern Grecian style for its architecture. But he was surprised at what she told him about her family. Renata never said anything about her family being gone. Something she would have had in common with Augustin.

"I didn't know she was alone. What happened to her parents?"

"Her mother was a diplomat… she was killed on Korhal during the war. Her father was a professor of… something. I forget what his field was. He died of cancer a few years back."

This new information made Stukov feel even worse about what he had done with Vermaak, but made him realize

"That's terrible. To deal with that kind of loss… and then this… "

"Yeah," Jansa said, her cigar between her teeth. "She doesn't talk about it much…" She took the cigar out and rolled it between her fingertips, then squinted at him, letting the subject air away. Finally, she spoke again as they sat there and smoked. "What's Earth like, anyway?"

"Eh. Crowded. Polluted… A lot of inequity. Earth tried to solve their problems by sending shiploads of people they disagreed with out here… It didn't change anything, and I can't say they've learned from it. A lot of people die because they have the wrong ideas or the wrong genetics… or they just don't have the resources or personality to lie or hide…" Stukov felt slightly guilty when he thought about it. The many times when he could do nothing when other people suffered. Long ago, he had a youthful fantasy that at some point he might be able to climb to a position in which he could make a difference, but he had realized as he progressed further and further up the ranks that he would never be able to make the leap from a position as a soldier to the position of political power. His ancestry would hold him back, and, he noted that now, if they had uncovered what Abathur had about his healing abilities, he and his family would have vanished without a trace. Not that it would have mattered for Vera… In the back of his mind, something bothered him as he was reminded of Vera by the death of Marín's father—and Jansa's question about Earth. He still didn't know how she died. Or did he? She had been in remission… was it? He pushed the thought away. Stukov didn't know—that was a question that only Gregory could answer.

"That's about what I thought… But if you're not a true believer, what the hell were you doing here when they invaded twenty years ago?"

"I didn't have a choice. My friend—my superior officer—wanted me here. I was an expert on the zerg and well-regarded as a tactician. And I was a drunk who had almost ruined my reputation. The wolves were circling. Had I not left, I would have eventually been charged with dereliction of duty… or said the wrong thing to the wrong person. I would have been exiled—or worse. At least if I came here, I might be able to retire if I returned with my life. But then I didn't… so…" Stukov leaned back and grimaced, then took a long drag on his cigar. Jansa studied him.

"What about a guy like Reeves? Is that why he's here? Competent but a bad rep?"

Stukov almost choked on his cigar.

"God, no. Incompetent. Stupid enough to think this was a good idea. Hates me for some reason—even before I became zerg."

"He hates you and you don't know why?"

"No… I'll admit to not being the nicest person. But I don't recall ever… I mean, maybe in the academy?"

"Dude's gotta be something if he holds a grudge for that long…" Stukov shrugged. His cigar was starting to burn down. They sat in silence. Jansa blew a smoke ring at him and he chuckled.

"You really think the shielding will work?" She said, bringing them back to the present.

"Changing the polarity is a good start. A combination of physical and energy shielding may yield the results we're looking for…" Stukov took one last puff from the cigar and looked around for a place to extinguish it. Jansa handed him a can. "I don't know how much help I will be. Weapons were a specialty of mine, but not mechs. The last time I was in one I…" Stukov started chuckling again.

"Dropped a cigar down your pants?"

"No, I'm not so old that forget which stories I told… I had been having trouble with a cadet that I was training. Mouthy over email. Called me a slur once, but you can get away with that sort of thing on Earth. Never met him in person until the drill—and even then he was in a CMC. Started talking back during the drill. So, I changed the gravity on the drill field—and told everyone. But this cadet couldn't keep his mouth shut long enough to listen and…"

"Oh god. He didn't change the settings on his pneumatics."

"No. So, when I told them to practice frontal assault charges…"

"How far did he launch?"

"Far enough they had to get a dropship to find him. I just remember his face as he cartwheeled over me. I hope he could hear me laughing over the COMM…" Stukov recalled the face in his memory. It was familiar. He started chuckling to himself.

"Surely that's not why…" he said.

"What? What's funny."

"It was Reeves."

---

Dauphin had hoped that if their lives as smugglers were dangerous, that at least they'd be interesting. As it was, it was more like her life on Earth than she would have liked, except now she not only had a messy roommate, but an absent, moody one. Gregory had started doing jobs on his own without both her and KD. His new employer provided Gregory with transport after he had successfully completed a few jobs for her. He would come home flush with credits and not willing to talk about what he had done. To keep from being tailed, Gregory would send her an encrypted message with a time. She would open the door and act like she was putting her trash in the nearby incinerator. When she came back into their tiny living-room-slash-kitchen, he was standing inside. Tonight, he was smiling as he took off his hood and deactivated his cloak's stealth.

"Uh, how did it go?"

"Just a drop off. Home early for once."

"Oh, nice."

"Have we got any food?" Gregory said, brushing past her and opening the fridge.

"Some microwave stuff…" Gregory made a disappointed sound, but then his head popped around the fridge door.

"Where's KD?"

"She drank herself to sleep early."

"Oh…" A slow grin grew on Gregory's face. "Let's go out!"

"What?"

"You and me… like normal people. Get some food together."

"I… sure? I guess?" Dauphin looked down at herself. She was wearing sweats, a tank top, and had her hair up in a messy bun.

"You want to change?"

"You think I look bad?"

"No," Gregory said, stuffing a slice of ham in his mouth, "but it's cold out."

"You should probably change too." Gregory looked down at himself. He seemed to have forgotten what he was wearing.

"Oh… right. Five minutes?"

"Okay..."

Gregory casually loped back to his room and Dauphin ran back to hers once he was out of sight. She hurriedly combed her hair and threw on the only other clothes she had—a pair of tight-fitting black leggings and a bulky black sweater. They had left the Uhuru with nothing—only the clothes on their backs and some essentials they had scavenged from its hangar. After their first job, they had finally been able to buy something other than the shifts they were wearing in the Uhuru's jail. Was this a date? Dauphin wondered, slipping her boots on quietly, trying not to disturb KD who was snoring loudly on the top bunk. Or is does he just think KD is that annoying? When she laced up her boot, she was surprised to see Gregory standing in the doorway wearing a nondescript, grey hooded sweatshirt and black pants. He grinned at her. She followed him out into living room and into the city outside.

Feronis was a desolate place, like a lot of Kel-Morian Combine worlds were. According to what was available on the extranet, the KMC selected its worlds more for their mineral wealth than their ability to house human habitations. As such, a lot of Feronis's cities were under domes that were used for wind break and for light oxygenation. The outside wasn't unbreathable or un-survivable, but it was unpleasant. Even inside the dome, Dauphin felt like she could taste the iron in the air, and there was red dirt in her clothes every day when she came home. The town didn't even have a name. It was "Mining Camp Five," and everyone just called it "Five." But there was a saloon, and a place that had decent ramen, a boba shop, a barbeque joint, and a small market—they didn't need much more than that after being on military rations for years. Still, they fought over whether they were getting delivery from the ramen shop or the BBQ place. But tonight, Gregory didn't argue with her about ramen.

When they stepped inside, it was fuller than she had ever seen it. But then she realized they usually didn't stay to eat, so she really had no idea how busy it would be most of the time. They ended up sitting at the corrugated-metal bar. It was loud, and she could barely hear the waiter when she came by. Thankfully there were only three choices—vegetable, something that had the consistency of chicken but had a vaguely shrimp-like taste, and something that tasted just like beef but had the consistency of eggplant. Dauphin didn't know if it was poorly-made, vat-grown meat or a local animal, and she thought she probably didn't want to know. I really hope it's not zerg, whatever it is, she thought as the steaming bowl slid in front of her. She prodded the thick slices of not-beef with her chopstick. By the time she looked up, Gregory was halfway through eating his vegetable ramen. He ate three times as much as she did and in a third less time. She never asked, but she assumed it was because in ghost training he was only given a few minutes to eat every day.

Around bites, Dauphin asked him about his last mission. He was characteristically tight-lipped about it, no wanting her to know much about what he had done either because he was ashamed of it, or didn't want her to have the burden of the secrets that he knew. She changed the subject.

"So… You dislike KD that much?"

"Dislike? No. But you have to admit she's not a good roommate. And her drinking is starting to be a problem."

"Her drinking has always been a problem. But yeah, it's worse now. I think it's because we can't go home."

Gregory shrugged. "Home was never much of a home… Why would she want to go back?"

Dauphin blinked.

"I… never thought I'd hear you say that." Gregory shrugged and stuffed more ramen into his mouth. When he could talk again, he looked up.

"I've had a lot of time alone… on jobs. And I realized for once my life was not in danger…"

"Not in danger? Isn't everything you do dangerous?"

"Sure, but… not like the danger at home. At home, I was in danger of my life through violence, but also if I said anything, I may just conveniently be marked 'missing.' My sister might have been able to help but maybe not. My power protects me here, not my name. I'm not against other people like me. I think most ghosts have been recruited by one faction or the other. Free agents must be rare."

"Huh. Interesting. There have been a lot of wars here, it sounds like… I guess a lot of high-level ghosts would have been snapped up."

"And now we've brought a new war here."

"We bring a new war everywhere," Dauphin said without thinking. Then she mentally checked herself out of habit and sighed. She poked at her ramen with her chopsticks. "Wow, it feels weird to be able to say something like that, doesn't it? And not look over your shoulder?" When she looked up, he was doing exactly that, staring hard into a corner of the busy room. Dauphin felt a chill down her spine. Gregory reluctantly looked away, focusing back on her.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, but we should probably get back." From the tone in his voice, she could tell he was hiding something. Dauphin's hand was shaking as she ate. She took a few more bites, but quickly wasn't hungry as her nervousness grew. As they walked out of the restaurant, Gregory kept nonchalantly looking behind them. Abruptly, he stopped, turned towards her, and grasp her by the shoulders.

"Do you see this building?" He said, pointing to the building next to them.

"Yes, wh—"

"Go inside as if you live there."

"Someone is following us."

"Yes, and they're only interested in me. If they follow us home, they may kill both you and KD as collateral damage. So…" He said, kissing her on the forehead. "Here I leave you."

"What? No… don't…"

Gregory turned and left her, taking a few steps and disappearing around a corner. She saw movement move through the crowd. Pulling her wits about her, she walked into the building not knowing whether she would see him again.

---

Valerian had a way of knowing how people felt. And what he felt from Horner as he stepped on the bridge of the Uhuru was anger and fear, but he couldn't tell where it was directed. This made him uneasy. Could he know? No, that's paranoia. There is no way that he would find out. He felt some remorse at what he had done, but not enough to keep him from sleep the night before and not enough to keep the pleasant look off his face now. Horner was a dear friend. Selling out the Republic while Horner was in charge was a relationship-ending transgression, he knew, but one that could not be avoided. Valerian believed the human factions in the Koprulu Sector could only be united by conquest, and the only nation who could openly do that was the Directorate. There will be immense suffering on all sides. But the UED will be a cleansing fire—that will eventually die out. What will be left will be a unified sector—maybe even a unified race. Valerian imagined himself as the vanguard of that new age. Ingratiating himself with the Directorate would allow himself to survive the conflict in a position of power regardless of which side won. If he were a main player as a hero of the Republic, he could use that to absolve his "sins" during the End War. If the Directorate was victorious, he would be the logical choice for a regional leader. But there would be a few loose ends…

Stukov stood opposite him at the war table. He looked at Valerian with barely-restrained contempt. His eyes were human enough now for Valerian to read his emotions, though it wasn't hard before. Marín ignored Valerian, the protoss were oddly quiet, and Horner was terser than usual—he chalked this up to lack of sleep. After greeting everyone, Horner began his update on the mission, making sure that everyone was on the same page. Annoyingly, Stukov had been able to find a way to make his brood invulnerable to psi disruption. And apparently the Umojans were helping him become invulnerable to it as well. I will need to pass that information on to Kurchack. What he had not passed on was other information that he had learned—that Gregory Stukov had escaped. Valerian knew something that the fleet did not; Gregory had not returned to the Destroyer Fleet. At least not yet… It would behoove me to find him first. Valerian had been watching the skirmish, having deployed a cloaked science vessel to observe the fleet and provide intel. As such, he knew the basic direction that Gregory had gone—Kel-Morian space. He would send his own mercenary force after him. His hope was that they would quietly remove him and bring him back. I need insurance against Stukov. Once the dust settles, if Stukov has survived, I will need some way of keeping him from coming after me—or a way of luring him out of the shadows. But he also knew that with the alliances he was forming now, it would be harder to do that. Whatever he did might provoke a covert or overt response from Horner Or more likely Marín…

Marín was speaking now, discussing her fleet. Capt. Calvino would become her second now, as Edge Fleet's leadership had imploded after Augustin's death and Mullenix's mutinous actions. He realized that Vermaak was not in attendance. Interesting. I wonder if that has anything to do with the fracas at the funeral. And yet Stukov is here… Hmm. Is Marín showing favoritism? Is she aware of how he feels about her? To him, Stukov's attraction to her was laughably obvious. He watched Stukov as she spoke. His body was turned towards her, leaning in. As Valerian watched, Stukov's eyes wandered as he looked at her. They were standing beside each other, and Marín could not perceive that he was looking at more than her face; one of Stukov's hands rested on the war table, his thumb tracing a small, slow circle on it. He was obviously smitten with her. The man hasn't been close to a woman in over twenty years. I can't say his attention is much of a compliment for Marín. But he conceded that she had some redeeming qualities: her affinity for culture and her ability to look past Stukov's ailment and the aliens' strangeness. But that is a problem. Marín is loyal to Stukov and he to her. I can't let it stay that way. He had tried to call her attention to his attraction but felt as if he hadn't pushed hard enough.

Valerian realized that they had been waiting for him to discuss his preparations. He acted absentminded and distracted and told them what they wanted to hear. The briefing ended. There were only small changes to the plan. Not worth risking a transmission to the Destroyer Fleet. As everyone left, Stukov lingered again. Valerian decided now was the time. A thought had occurred to him. This push will be a shove.

"Admiral, may I speak with you privately?" Marín's eyes flitted towards Stukov. Something passed between them and he left.

"Of course, Valerian," she said stiffly. She led him the short distance to her office and sat down behind her desk. She did not ask him to sit. He couldn't decide if that was intentional. Marín didn't seem the type to be petty. He didn't sit. A standing delivery would make what he had to say more dramatic.

"This isn't about Stukov again, is it?"

"Yes, actually."

"Valerian," she said, rolling her eyes, "I don't care…"

"You should. You should listen to what I say and care very much how Stukov feels about you." Marín stopped and her expression changed to one of confusion.

"Why? We have a professional…"

"You know it's more than professional."

"Even if it is, it…"

"If it is, you could use it." Marín looked at him, her mouth forming words but none of them coming. She sat in silence for a moment. She has an interesting mind. "Artless" is what I would call it. She has little capacity for manipulation. She doesn't see what I'm saying… she'd never fathom using someone's feeling against them. Everyone around me was doing that since I was a child. What kind of life has she had that she has the luxury of being that way? I can't imagine not being able to realize you're being emotionally manipulated and to not be able to do it in return.

"Use it? What in the universe do you mean?"

"Our ally-ship with Stukov is… at an impasse," he said dispassionately. "His son is gone. You're here but… unavailable." Marín's expression changed, her face tightening. He raised an eyebrow and looked at her knowingly. "Or… maybe not so much anymore?" Her face darkened with blood from either rage or embarrassment.

"My relationship status is none of your…"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry. It doesn't really matter anyway."

"Get to the point, Valerian, or get out of my office." Valerian ignored her, walking past her to look out the window behind her, his cape swishing as he walked. She turned to him, her eyes narrowing with anger.

"Have you ever heard of the concept of virtú?"

"This doesn't sound like getting to the point…" He stared at her, half-smiling, ignoring the comment. She sighed and relaxed a bit, leaning back in her chair. "Yes, it's the name of one of our ships. I've always understood it to mean the ability to act the right way under the right circumstances."

"Yes, that is the way that Machiavelli presented it. But it's larger than that. It means magnanimity as well. Courtliness. Culture. And do you know who the medieval Italians believed were the referees of what was morally right and wrong? And kept humanity civilized?"

"No, Valerian. I'll admit my knowledge of Earth culture is pretty shaky unless it's an opera or a play or…"

"It was women. Men knew they were beasts without the civilizing influence of women. This idea goes back to the earliest examples of literature in the human species—back to The Epic of Gilgamesh. You're familiar with that, I hope?"

"Yes, I've heard of it… Gilgamesh… Enkidu…"

"Right, yes, very good. Do you know how Enkidu, the wild man, was tamed?"

"No, I don't recall…"

"They sent him a woman. She slept with him. After that, the beasts wouldn't follow him. He walked upright and sought out the company of men. He realized he was a man."

"What does this have to do with anything, Valerian?"

"We're going to lose control of Stukov. We need someone to remind him he's human—a link back to civilization. I think that link is you."

"Stukov and I have a good professional relationship already. I'm doing what I can."

"No. You're not. Give him what he wants."

"I don't know what you're…"

"You know what I mean, Marín. I know you do. You're not that blind."

"Maybe I choose to be!" She said suddenly, angrily. He could tell she had said it loudly enough to be heard from the outside. The bridge crew, who had returned, had all stopped to look in at them from their stations. She turned her head slowly, meeting eyes with her bridge crew then turned back to Valerian, lowering her voice. "Let me get this straight. You want me to sleep with Stukov?"

"My studies of him suggest that he would not be able to infest you that way, so bodily harm is not part of the equation. If that's what it takes to keep him here and keep him in the fight, yes. Would you not do that for your country?"

"Get out of my office, or I'll have someone escort you out." Valerian walked deliberately to the door.

"Think about what I've said."

"No, Valerian, I won't. I would not do something like that to someone I respected. Or, hell, someone I didn't. I don't live in your world, Valerian. And you sure as hell don't live in mine."

At that, Valerian excused himself. Despite her vehement protestations, he thought it went well. The seed was planted. If she was revolted by him or uninterested, she would have a hard time looking him in the eye now. If she for some reason was interested, she would always question her motivations. Words have a way of undoing what is true, Valerian thought. And secrets undo the rest…

---

Marín needed a fucking drink. What a bullshit day this has been, she thought, but then didn't think past that. Dwelling on it just made her feel worse. She realized she was unintentionally staring angrily at Ahlberg through her office door. He was looking back at her sympathetically. They made eye contact and she pretended to look back down at her console. She checked the time. It was a little after 1200 hours. I could pretend to beg off for lunch, she thought, and just go back to my quarters for a nap instead. Or I could go down to the brig and take all my frustration out on Oyaleni. She decided she would "lunch" because she was a ball of plasma-hot rage. Collecting herself, she made her way out of her office and to the lift. Ahlberg watched her as she walked. She was glad that Barre wasn't here—he would be asking questions. Ahlberg had some sense of propriety. But suddenly Ahlberg was moving quickly, thudding down the short steps to the floor of the bridge from his station, his stomach slightly shaking as he did so.

"Where are you headed, Admiral?" He said, boarding the lift with her.

"Eh, knocking off for lunch, I think."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Uh, sure…" Marín mumbled without thinking.

"Great! It's been a long time since we've had lunch. I heard the commissary's special today is green curry with pinkfish, rice and lentils. Isn't that one of your favorites?"

"Sure," she said, but realized she was repeating herself. "Yeah, I like that. They do a better job vat-growing the pinkfish fillets than anything else."

"Yeah, don't get me started on the steaks," Ahlberg tapped something out on his datapad and then put it behind him. He smiled at her pleasantly. "But I think that has more to do with not being able to cook over an open flame than anything else. Our biotanks shouldn't be any different than those on Umoja."

"No, they are top of the line…"

The door opened. Marín couldn't get her thoughts together enough to make small talk, but Ahlberg seemed to sense that and prattled on about anything he thought about. In another context, it would have been annoying but for the moment she was glad for the distraction.

The commissary was still disheveled. The long light banks set into the ceiling that ran the length of the long, curving room were of different brightness due to their scattered replacement. There were bullet holes in the steel panels on the buffet line that defined one wall of the room, and one of the windows on the other side had obviously been replaced. The temporary field generator was still sitting below it. They got in line for pinkfish, and by the time that they had gotten their food, Barre, wearing civilian clothes—a t-shirt for a metal band and tight black jeans—was eating a sloppy multi-patty hamburger and was waving them over. Without prompting, Ahlberg went and sat with him, and as Marín sat down, Jansa also sat down with a large bowl of some sort of stew, followed by Dr. Laurent also appeared nursing a small cup of coffee (the only thing Marín had ever seen her eat or drink). Marín felt as though she had walked into an intervention.

"Well hello, everyone. How nice and kind of suspicious you're all here right now," Marín said dryly. "Barre?" Marín looked at him threateningly.

"I did say anything!" Barre said, food in his mouth.

"Say anything about what?" Jansa said. "Wait, is this about Vermaak? What did that meathead do? I wanna know. I might shit in his cargo container if it's bad enough."

"Please don't shit in anywhere you're not supposed to, Dani. Of for sol's sake, don't tell your commanding officer before you do it."

"I don't condone fouling in public but… just so you know… if there was human feces on any cargo that arrived on a vessel in the fleet, that cargo would have to be remanded and go through extra quarantine and sterilization. The person whose cargo it was would not see their items for weeks," Dr. Laurent's eyebrow raised deviously and she took a small sip of her coffee.

"No one is shitting on anything! If you want to do something, please do something that can't be brought back against you with DNA evidence."

"Eh, there's a point," Dani said quietly. "Seriously though, what did the motherfucker do?"

Marín sighed and looked around. There was no one in earshot. "Look, I can't tell you. But I will say that what he did not only got him in trouble with me, but would, under normal circumstances, gotten him court martialed."

"It was bad. I'm glad Stukov tipped us off," Barre said, then quickly covered his mouth. "Oop."

"Achille!"

"Stukov turned him in?" Ahlberg said.

"You told Anders?" Marín said. Barre stuffed the last of his hamburger into his mouth and acted like he couldn't talk. "Goddamn it, Achille."

"Okay, you've got to tell us now. We won't let it leave this table."

Marín sighed. "Fine. Wynand was the one who passed my requisition codes along to Valerian."

"He what?!" Jansa said. "That motherfucking son of a bitch! Why the fuck would he do that? He almost got both of us killed!"

"I don't know, but I think he thought that keeping my wraith away from me would keep me out of danger."

"Valerian is the root of our problems. Why does the Republic not arrest him and confiscate his fleet?" Ahlberg said.

"I agree, and I asked that same question. Apparently Moebius isn't technically part of the Republic. They can't do anything legally, and if they tried to take it by force, that would defeat the purpose. And personally, I'd like to see Valerian hauled before a tribunal and shot—or however the Republic deals with executions. They still have capital punishment, right?"

"They do. Barbaric!" Dr. Laurent said.

"Normally I'd say the same thing, but I'd make an exception for him," Marín said quietly, pushing her food around her plate.

"Why? What'd he do?" Jansa said. Marín wished she could tell them the whole truth—that Valerian was a traitor in other ways and that Umoja would soon be thrown into the first conflict in their own system. But she couldn't—not yet. She had been told to hold off until the morning of the attack per her commanders. The reason was that if word got out about Valerian's treachery, the wrong person might find out and word would get back to Valerian. If Vermaak was a spy, there might be someone else as well. But I can tell them about what he said to me earlier… She sighed and threw her fork onto her plate. It clanged loudly and she sat back and rubbed her face.

"Okay, so… context. Do you guys know what that fight was over between Vermaak and Stukov at Augustin's funeral?"

"No!" Barre said quickly. "But I really want to." Marín rolled her eyes at him.

"Well, Vermaak got it in his head that Stukov and I were having some sort of… thing."

"Thing? Like… a thing thing? Like," Jansa made a rude in-and-out gesture with her hands, "… that kind of thing?"

"Yes, Dani, that sort of thing." The table erupted in a startled and amused gasps.

"What the fuck?" Ahlberg said. "He thought you were cheating on him? With Stukov? What an ass!"

"I don't know if he thought we were actively cheating… but he thought Stukov was… interested."

"Wow. I'm sure if Stukov got wind of that, he wouldn't be happy," Jansa said.

"Well, as he turns out, Vermaak wasn't wrong. And somehow Valerian picked up on it."

Barre looked like he was going to explode. Both of Dr. Laurent's eyebrows went up almost into her hairline, Ahlberg went white, and Jansa's mouth was a perfect pink "o." All of them paused for a moment and then collectively uttered their disbelief. And then the friendly roasting started.

"Wow. You must have some game. Bring a man back from the dead!" Ahlberg said.

"Did you see the dress she was wearing that day though?" Jansa said.

"Wait, how do you know?" Ahlberg said.

"He told me—a few hours ago." More disbelief. "But that's not the weirdest thing that's happened today… Valerian, like I said, he caught onto this. And after our meeting today, he tried to get me to sleep with him to keep him in the fleet."

The table became a cacophony of confusion and disbelief.

"Uh, that sounds like a great way to get yer ladybits infested."

"Jansa… no…"

"And nine months later, 'It's a zergling!"

"For fuck's sake, Anders…"

"I happen to know that the Fleet Admiral takes advantage of the military's free contraceptive devices so that would be highly unlikely."

"Oh my god, Amie…"

"Not to mention you have no idea how infested he is under his clothes."

"Stop."

"His scans indicate he's normal enough. Maybe better than normal, but you really can't tell 'at rest.'"

"… You don't look that closely at my scans do you?"

"Yeah, but what if it's like his arm or something. That could be awesome or dangerous."

"Achille! Oh my fucking…" Marín slid her tray out from in front of her so that she could put her head on the table and cross her arms on top of it. "What is wrong with all of you?"

"Seriously though? He seems like a nicer guy than Wynand. Like, fuck that guy," Jansa said.

"You should sleep with Stukov just to make Vermaak upset," Achille said. "Video it and send it to him, the dumb fucker."

"I'm not doing that. I'm not rubbing any relationship in Vermaak's face. Not to mention the whole infestation thing.'

"My scans indicate that other with the pathogen he releases consciously from his arm, the only way he could infest you is if he bled on you and you had an open wound."

"That's good to know I guess, but still doesn't matter. Wait, why have you been making him go through decontam still if you knew that? Nevermind. Can we get back to how disgusting Valerian is?"

"Well, of course he's disgusting. We've all known he was disgusting. We just didn't know how disgusting," Barre said.

"I'm sorry, Admiral. We shouldn't be laughing. That was a major etiquette breach on his part. Though he's kind of a rogue entity anyway. I guess he can do what he wants?" Ahlberg said.

"You don't think Horner was in on it this time, do you?" Barre said.

"God, I hope not. Our alliance is going in a very strange direction if he is."

"I don't even know what the point of asking you to do that would be. Obviously you wouldn't do it," Ahlberg said.

"Well, obviously… I don't know, really. It'll be hard to look him in the face for awhile honestly."

"Maybe that was the point? To make you uncomfortable?" Jansa said.

"Then he succeeded. But jokes on him because I have no pride."

"Will you tell Stukov this happened?" Barre said.

Marín thought about this. She said she would share everything with Stukov, but this was embarrassing. It wouldn't matter, she reasoned. It would just be another reason for him to hate Valerian, and he already had enough. And I have a feeling it would poison our relationship—or at least cool it. If more than one person had noticed his behavior, he would become self-conscious and maybe less likely to help. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she did enjoy his company.

"I don't see the point, really…"

Her friends continued to lightly harass her throughout her lunch in the commissary. They promised to get together after the next big battle—barring something terrible happening.

"And invite Stukov," Barre said, a mischievous look spreading out across his face. She rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm going to put you in the brig for insubordination."

"Please don't. Oyaleni's still in there. She hates me."

Oyaleni. I almost forgot. Now is as good a time as any… This day couldn't get any worse… Marín said her goodbyes and left. She felt better. Despite not thinking of herself as an extraverted person, there was something about camaraderie—even if her friends mostly made fun of her—that kept her sane. It was something that she needed more than others; she had little family, after all. She knew that she had a tendency not to classify her relationships. Friends were like siblings because she didn't know the difference. She had no idea what kind of touch was friendly and what kind was familial. This is how I get myself into trouble. And, of course, she wasn't able to see deception coming. Like with Oyaleni.

The brig was quiet. All the other marines had been taken out except for General Oyaleni by Marín's request. When Marín came into view of Oyaleni. She looked up but did not stand though she should have. It was a gesture of disrespect, but it was moot at this point. She had already done far worse.

"Jane."

"Renata."

"We need to talk."

"Okay, we're talking."

"I need to know why, Jane."

Oyaleni's reaction surprised Marín. Her face was puffy and her eyes tinged with red. She looked as if she was on the verge of tears.

"You have no idea what you have, and what you have done." Marín was puzzled but said nothing. "Wynand and I have served together for years. Longer than you two have even known each other. He is loyal, and he is steady, and he loves you. And during the End War, what? You almost threw him away."

"What are you…"

"Let me finish," she hissed. "When he went with you to Core Fleet, I warned him. You had no self-preservation instinct. I knew you would do something stupid. And you did. When Wynand lost his leg that day, it was because you went too far. You disobeyed orders. And so did Wynand—to find you. You didn't deserve him then, and you don't deserve him now."

"That's what this is about? Me not deserving Wynand?"

"And your relationship with Stukov. You still don't know danger when you see it!"

"I'm not infested. He won't infest me."

"Did you not see what happened? I resisted, and he tried to infest me!"

Marín knew better than to address what Oyaleni was saying. She knew what she was trying to do—to get her to on surveillance admit that he had almost infested her."

"He attacked you because you were holding me hostage. And he did not try to infest you."

"That's bullshit and you know it!"

"I don't see how any of this justifies your actions. If I was incompetent, you could have logged a complaint with Dr. Laurent. And if you had a real problem with Stukov, you would have come and talked to me privately—which was what I thought you were going to do when you came aboard but instead you fired on me and held me hostage in my own office! And when Wynand lost his leg, I was on special orders from Augustin to go out on my own, and Wynand knew that, and so should you! So, what the fuck is this really about."

Oyaleni and Marín both stared each other down. Then, Marín had an unusual moment of insight. With all decency stripped away, she finally saw Oyaleni for who she was—not a person like herself able to examine and suppress her emotions, but someone who ran hot and was, like many, tossed about by their ebb and flow.

"It is just about Wynand. Have you two…?"

Oyaleni couldn't look her in the eye. Marín cracked and started laughing. "Oh, my god." She walked out. I've got better things to do than mess with this. She walked back to her room to compose herself and was confronted by Vermaak in the doorway.

"What is this?" It was Stukov's dress uniform hat. She had forgotten to give it back to him. "Why was this on your nightstand?"

Marín didn't even try to explain.

She punched him in the face.

---

Dr. Joan Slavens knew something like this would happen. She was getting the run-around from Marinakis and the Directorate. For four days they had shuffled her from Directorate-supporting home to Directorate-supporting home. Now she was in an open-air military-style jeep crawling slowly through the city as a UED officer rambled on about the successes of the Directorate during their occupation. To their credit, they had cleaned up much of the damage and had taken down a gaudy, gold statue that Valerian had erected of himself during his regime. But Dr. Slavens was growing impatient with the pageantry and with the constant circular kowtowing to the admiral of their fleet, Troy Reeves. But after tuning the sergeant driving the jeep out, something he said caught her attention.

"I'd love to see the look on Horner's face when his fleet comes to Tarsonis and he realizes we were ready for him."

"The fleet is coming to Tarsonis?"

"Yep, this tour ends with me taking you to a secure location, ma'am."

Dr. Slavens looked at him for a moment, her face paling.

"Am I a prisoner?"

"No, I mean, if you want to be caught up in the invasion, be my guest."

Dr. Slavens sat back, absorbing this information.

"How do you know there's an attack coming?"

"Inside source. Big one by how the higher-ups talk. Everyone lining up to betray each other on the Republic's side. Heard there was a mutiny in the Umojan fleet too."

"Interesting," Dr. Slavens said, again taking in what he had said. The sergeant's comm beeped and he began talking into it in hushed tones. She was glad for him to be distracted for a moment so she didn't have to pretend to be congenial. This is a disaster. The fleet could use this information, but how do I get it to them? I'm a sitting duck here. A UED installation will likely be a target. Dr. Slavens realized that they were now out of Tarsonis City and heading away at a brisker pace than she was comfortable with. The sergeant had put his comm away and had fallen silent. Dr. Slavens heard the booms of what could have been thunder, but she knew better. She twisted to look back over her seat to see the unmistakable contrails of liberators in the darkly clouded sky.

The siege of Tarsonis had begun.