Chapter 6: CHIMAERA
"Jackson."
"Origura."
"Santos."
"Weisengarder, sir, but you can call me Weiss."
Jakk Jayce shook hands with each of the new members of Chimaera as they assembled on a space platform built above Umoja to receive military and civilian dignitaries from other governments. A small flotilla of Dominion vessels, intermingled with a massive sausage shaped Protoss carrier, and two Umojan Victory-class battlecruisers floated above them, giving more formalities to the affair.
The four Dominion representatives, only a fraction of the thirty-two member team of the Dominion Intelligence Forces, (DIF), stood in a line, complete with their red jumpsuits, while a mixture of Protoss representatives, and spies, or Saragans, and Umojan Military Intelligence officers stood in an line opposite to the Korhalians.
Cameron introduced herself first, forcefully smiling. She wasn't the only one who didn't like the Korhalians, long regarded as the renegades of the sector. During the Brood Wars, there had been talk on Umojan of invading Korhal and deposing the idiotic terrorist-emperor Mengsk because of his willingness to play both with Zerg, UED, and Umoja against each other while he steadily built his forces.
But now, it was the terrorist turned emperor to be hunting terrorists. And Cameron, old hostilities at bay, would have to work with Mengsk's agents.
"I would like to welcome all those who made it here, today, in these times." She nodded to the Korhalians. The trip had not been easy, especially in their rickety transports, who were easy targets to marauding Zerg. "You all know what we are here for. To end the threat of terror and intimidation in this galaxy. To stop the threat of terrorism." The agents from the Dominion stiffened. Many of them were former members of the Agents of Korhal, the intelligence arm of the Confederate labeled 'terrorists' Sons of Korhal.
A faint smile passed over Camerons' lips again, and she continued to speak. "These are not terrorists who have a reasonable goal. They are madmen, determined—at any cost—to make this galaxy into their Garden of Eden. Unfortunately, this Garden only includes a few hundred people. And we are not part of that group."
Jayce smiled, as a few of the newly arrived agents slackened, looking aloof like their leader, Mengsk. The Emperor had been released from Umojan custody in secret, to secure his throne; otherwise, the Emperor would be quickly deposed if the Korhalians found out he was treated like a common thief at the hands of the Umojans. The crew of the Legacy had been sworn to silence, and already, teams of Protoss, Umojan, and Dominion forces were working together. Everything seemed ready in place for a strike against Strom, or even the Zerg. But Chimaera was the only team for the job.
They'll know soon enough how dangerous this is.
Don't we already?
Another voice in his head startled Jakk, and he looked at the Korhalians. One of them, a thin, pale, male in a standard Ghost red, formal uniform, nodded to him.
You are...Akura Origura?
Yes, and you are Jakk Jayce.
You psionic skills are quite formidable if you can penetrate my thought block I set in my mind.
It was not easy to do.
Jakk turned his attention back to his aunt, as she pointed to him, and Aragas.
"As you can see, already two of Chimaera's operatives has returned from an abortive scouting mission from Chau Sara. However, they did find Strom's base, and evidence of his weapons. Strom knows we're out there to stop him. You've seen how many specially trained, Confederate agents he's brainwashed to join his gang. Chimaera must stop them." She looked at each and every one of them, knowing that every faction here had a different purpose to accomplish, even if all of them were working together. And any one of them could backstab one another any time.
"Dismissed, all of you. You'll be receiving orders in approximately two hours."
The Ghosts and Saragans walked back into their transports, going to the world of Umoja.
Raynor's Raiders Compound, Main Headquarters
New Providence, Umoja
You cannot change the past, Raynor. Nor the future.
Zeratul sat uncomfortably in a Terran's odd contraption, called a chair. The room, a plain bricked compound on the outskirts of Umoja's capital, was lighted well in Umoja's dry climate, air conditioned to suit Terran and Protoss needs, combining futuristic style and taste with an old fashioned, Mar Saran feel with a fireplace.
"You don't think Sarah can be redeemed? Not even if we put all our resources in setting her in this trap?"
This...Terran, which you call Sarah, no longer has a soul in the body of the Queen of Blades. The only soul in the body of Sarah is twisted, tainted, and malevolent. Without the good. Even this plan cannot redeem a soul. Use our agents and spies and the best of our soldiers for some other task, not this. It is useless.
"Yeah, well, what if we could've redeemed Matriarch Razagal with this? Bet you wouldn't be saying anything, would you," Raynor shot back.
Zeratul's eye tone changed from a sad blue to a heated sun-orange, holding Raynor's gaze for a second. The marshal looked back, unflinchingly, his hand reaching for his standard 9mm pistol.
If I could help you, I would, James. If you believe this machine can redeem a spirit, whether Protoss, Human, or Zerg, then, by all means, do what you wish. A soft swishing of Zeratul's cloak cut off the human commander's voice before he could reply, as the Dark Templar swiftly exited the room, leaving Raynor feeling the slightest bit of embarrassment at the way he had just treated his old friend.
Of course, if his plan worked out, Zeratul would forgive him. If it worked.
Alpier, Brontes
While Raynor contemplated, Chimaera was already at work, fighting a silent war against the terrorists as they infiltrated the planets of the sector.
Their first target was Brontes, the birthplace of many of the Fists of Korhal, including Strom himself. On the shady streets of Brontes' largest city, Alpier, Liam Jackson and Suzi Santos walked like a love-struck couple, arms intertwined and looking at each other with hazy expressions.
"Good acting," Akura Origura murmured, into each agent's ear cavity, where an implant "bug" relayed communications to Chimaera's mobile base on a ship. "You guys would make a fine couple if you two survived, these missions."
"Haha," Santos said, barely moving her lips. "Just get on with the program will you? We're here to complete the mission, not screw each other."
Jackson looked surprised. "We aren't?"
"Okay, okay. That's enough. There's two things you need to look out for here: a gang called 'Fists of Harmonious Righteousness.' The name is pretty ridiculous, but the people whose in it aren't. They're all Strom's gang. His agents, sent here. Apparently, they're looking for some nukes Brontes' government stored here after they broke away from the Confederacy."
"Isn't everyone." Jackson and Santos neared the intersection.
"Tell me what we're doing here again?" Santos asked. "This place gives me the creeps."
"Exactly why you're here. This is Fists' rat-hole on Brontes, and before we can get to him, we have to scout out his place. There's a little cafe that recently opened up here called Lion's Gate. Intel has pointed out it's the meeting place for numerous triads on Brontes, which provides its own intelligence and help for finding and buying weapons, including nukes. And what-ya-know, Strom's probably there. Just get there and order some Khaf and look around. I'll do the rest."
Aboard the Eye of Umoja
As Origura watched them round the corner and stop by the cafe, Jayce came down from the bridge of the small intelligence craft, the Eye of Umoja, and into the room, brightly lit by dozens of monitors and intelligence equipment. They were orbiting in synchronization with an asteroid which was circling Brontes, pulled into its gravitational field. Darkly painted the Eye would ward off any patrols or starships. Many of the factional government of Koprulu were suspicious of each other as much as they hated Zerg, and even a relatively peaceful and diplomatic Umojan government was suspect for backstabbing.
But, Jakk thought, looking through the one small porthole at the desolate darkness outside, if we were caught, we'd be dead meat for any of the four groups operating in Brontes: UED Remnant, Zerg, Brotean Allied Government, or Strom.
"I'd agree with you there, sir," Origura said.
Jayce nodded his head at the Dominion Ghost.
"Your psionic skills are very impressive."
"Just the skill that allow me to read others' minds. You should see me trying to cloak with my Suit on. Like watching an Ursadon on Korhal. Doesn't go together."
J.J. managed a grin before turning back to the monitors. "They're by the cafe, outside on the pavilion Ordering some Khaf. Does Brontes have a good brew?"
"Not since the Zerg arrived."
"Wait, turn left shoulder camera to the right and zoom. There's someone in the cafe who looks like he's watching them."
Alpier, Brontes
Jackson sat nervously outside, in the patio of the Lion's Gate. To his left and right, the long downtown street, with its hip restaurants, cool clubs, and fashionable clothing stores looked anything but a triad and terrorist hangout. But what a perfect place that the Brontes authorities would never suspect, he thought. Triads and terrorists on the busiest street, scheming to get a few of the government's own nukes.
He tried to stick with the formula, tried to look love struck at the other agent, Santos, while she did an excellent job, as they waited for the waiter to bring them cups of fresh brew. He smiled at her, a weak impression compared to her infatuous gazing, and then lowered his right arm underneath the table, wincing at the gun that wasn't there at his side. He felt safer with it. Reluctantly, he reached out to touch her hand.
Through the corner of her mouth, she whispered something to the other agent. "Looks like a nice place. My scanners aren't picking up any bugs or surveillance equipment on the building's front. Origura?" A whisper in her left ear implant confirmed a no.
Aboard the Eye of Umoja
"But I'm still checking," Origura said. "There's something oddly not right. Lemme check-"
A low buzzing noise, barely audible from the muffling of Jackson's jacket, came from his left shoulder. Underneath, a camera, slim and flexible, like a worm, moved to get a closer look at the man inside the cafe watching, sipping a cheap beverage but watching the two agents. With a shaven head, pierced nose, and goatee, Origura noticed he heavily fit the profile of one of Strom's "Fist" members.
Jackson's nervous voice came back into Origura's ears. "Say we get some evidence that this place is where the triads and the Fists are dealing. What are we gonna do? Bring the evidence to Brontean Government? Or actually go in there and clear the rat-hole?"
Origura opened his mouth to answer, but Santos broke him off.
"Shit, we've got two police authorities coming in. Looks like their looking for someone too; not a normal patrol."
Jayce turned his head from another monitor to instruct the two agents what to do.
Alpier, Brontes
Abruptly, a low buzzing sound filled Jackson's body. The sound of a third psionic presence.
Thing happened in a blur.
Santos stared wide-eyed at the other Korhalian agent as a message filled his mind, calmly pronouncing their doom.
Whatever intel you come from, you're the sloppiest bunch we've seen yet. Please fuck off.
The two police officers spotted the agents, and then started running towards them.
A man, sitting alone in a trench coat at a table, rose, his face strangely contorted with a calm expression that didn't match his eyes as they seemed to rattle back and forth with terror.
He flashed what was bulging underneath his clothes, as bystanders screamed and started running. Strapped to his coat were row after row of spherical object shaped like pineapples: grenades. One of his hands pulled at a cord on his coat, as a marionette on strings.
Jackson flew to the ground, Santos at his side, as blood sprayed from the fountain of deafening explosions shook the crowded street corner. The worm camera underneath his jacket caught one last sight at the Lion's Gate, its front window shattered, bald headed man gone.
Raynor's Raiders Compound, Main Headquarters
New Providence, Umoja, three days later
"I still don't get it."
Three men and a Protoss male stood in the room, staring at the three holoview screens. One showed news coverage of the bombing, a hole ripped in the patio of Alpier, Brontes, where two Chimaera agents had been close to, carnage and casualties of the blast still everywhere. Another replayed the gruesome image of a man, loaded with explosives, blowing himself up. Another screen showed the mysterious person staring from the window of the cafe.
"What don't you get, J.J?"
"Strom's intentions. He has most, if not all, of every factions' store of nukes and other terror weapons. The thing is, he's not using them against the Dominion like he threatened he would."
Raynor nodded his head in agreement.
"No, he's not. He doesn't need to." Running a hand through his non-existent scalp, he sighed, wondering how he should explain this.
"There's a little something called politics that's involved in this, kid. I think Strom's clever enough now to realize that nukes and biological weapons are best saved for last, because of the Dominion's situation. Mengsk is on politically unsound grounds after the destruction of the UED Fleet under DuGalle. Most of his empire that he started out with jumped off the bandwagon. Brontes, Dylar IX, Braxis...they were all under the Dominion before the UED took over, and once they saw their chance to form their own autonomous governments, they took it."
The former marshal of the Confederacy slowly traced the words crawling on the bottom of the Koprulu Network News channel, an independent news agency. "Look at the what it says. Brontes terror bombing a long string of attacks believed to be connected with the Dominion."
"And really, in the other terrorist attacks, with the fallout on Trowitch, with the destruction of the Moria nuclear compound; all of these were linked with Korhalian agents. The theft of the nukes too, have been linked with the Dominion, even though Mengsk is claiming their own private nuclear stores have now vanished. We're not getting any information on this thefts though, because these governments are largely embarrassed with the poor security that led to these heists, and telling the public would mean panic."
Jayce nodded. Santos and Jackson were both Dominion agents, and since Chimaera is a 'shadow organization' that no one knows about, these factions believe Korhal is behind it, so their paranoia makes them claims that Korhal wants to reel them back in, when I don't think Mengsk is even considering claiming mineral rights anymore.
McAllen and Zami listened quietly before Jayce piped up.
"And so even though Strom's behind these attacks, the factions only link them to Korhal. And once more things are linked to Mengsk, they're going to declare war on Korhal and destroy it. Political subterfuge on Strom's part. He doesn't need to kill; Brontes, Moria, the Guilds...they're doing it for him without really comprehending what's going on."
McAllen nodded. "And even though Umoja has been, in history, a neutral protectorate, we're as deep in the muck as Mengsk. If he falters and decides to tell about our secret intelligence sharing scheme, or if the UMI leaks out about Strom, the factions aren't going to believe it and are going to turn Umoja on the same side as Korhal."
Raynor spoke up again after watching the suicide bomber explode on the screen. "Which is why Minister Hamline has no choice but to close down Chimaera if they don't complete a successful mission. Face it: the bombing of Trowitch couldn't be stopped, but Chimaera is being made look bad for the destruction of the Morian facility and this suicide bombing they failed to stop. Military officials and the few politicians who know about Chimaera are criticizing its failures."
Jayce turned to the holoscreen.
"And now the UED Remnant and Brontes are joining in what Moria and Kelanis started. They've called for the Dominion to be punished for their actions, pay full and immediate amenities to the victims."
McAllen turned to the third in the room. "Anything else, Zami?"
Nothing, Commander McAllen, the ancient Protoss warrior rumbled. The Saragans report that no Zerg activity is starting, except for their usual movements. We haven't seen a large build-up in many moons.
"And what about the two agents in Brontes at the time of the bombing?"
"They were captured, of course. In military prison getting interrogation. Both are obviously Dominion Agents, so the Dominion is being blamed even more for this attack. They're not being treated as war prisoners either, but criminals. Korhal's diplomats on almost all other planetary governments have been given the boot."
"Mengsk must be going nuts. Two incidents that unite three Sector governments together, ready to topple the Dominion once and for all."
"Moria just moved their Eighth Sector Fleet into Dominion space. And other factions have threatened to impose a planetary blockade of the Dominion."
Raynor sighed again, tiredly running through the political and military maneuverings of the factions. Complicating things were the UED and Strom. He shook his head, feeling his thoughts sloshing together. As much as he tried to avoid being a leader and politician, those two jobs had quietly controlled his life.
"Before Umoja can shut down Chimaera, we have one last chance to prove we're worth the effort." He nodded to Jayce. "Commander McAllen will talk to you about your next, and hopefully not last, mission." The two Ghosts nodded in reply, exiting the room.
"Now, time to figure out who the hell that suicide idiot was," Raynor said, turning around to Zami. Flicking all vides but the one that showed the dead man, Raynor watched intently, his face close to the screen, as if peering closer would reveal something.
"What's strange is this guy doesn't match the profile of any member in Strom's posse. I highly doubt he was a Ghost too, so he couldn't be the one who gave off the psionic signal Jayce said he felt. I'm guessing that was the man behind the window pane."
The dead man was not a Ghost; it was one of the few things McAllen, Cameron, and Jayce had rule out. No organization, no matter how many psionic operatives they had, would waste a Ghost on a suicide mission. They were worth a regiment of troops or a battlecruiser.
From his back Zami shifted slightly. To an ordinary observer, this would have been given no thought, but Raynor knew his Jashas Dark Templar friends well. Zami would have stood motionless unless some excitement or surprise moved him, however slight.
Raynor turned to face him.
"Whatcha got?"
Replay it, Commander.
Raynor nodded. The man's remains, in a grotesquely humorous way, flew back together, whole, as his chair and table simultaneously came back in one piece. People strewn on the ground were back on their feet as the vid backtracked, their nonchalance apparent before the grenades detonated.
Who would've thought those people would be mangled a second later? Raynor wondered.
The man was calmly sipping his cha now, looking around. Santos and Jackson could be heard talking at another table. And then...
He almost missed it; the others certainly did, since Zami had just caught it.
The man's eyes. They unnaturally twitched, rolling every which way in a disgusting manner, as in a frantic and brief struggle seconds before the man blew himself up.
Raynor couldn't watch anymore. He closed the vidscreen, turning to his friend.
"I see it now. But what does it mean?"
Psionic waves can manipulate the brain waves of species many paces way. This man did not voluntarily shatter himself; he was--" The voice translator at Zami's thought took a second before the word came into Raynor's mind. He was brainwashed.