A/N: To be completely honest, the huge gap in updates for this story are because I tend to get bored of it (plus I work on other stories). I do intend to finish this one to its end. I've revisited Legacy of the Void and that's gotten me into the Starcraft mood again. I'll try to get updates out sooner. Thanks for your patience.
It took less than a minute after the bait was sent out for the ship to respond. Through holographic map, he watched the protoss vessel's steer begin to tilt towards the planet. An incoming transmission reached the Caravan—an open broadcast from the protoss ship.
"Pilot, this is Executor Ariadis. Your message has been received."
His eyes grew wide at the image. Even he could recognize this one. That made his gut clench. Had it been a stranger, someone he didn't know, maybe he would've been able to sleep that night. But having a familiar face destroyed any chance of that.
Still, Marcus couldn't do anything. He knew Mira would be watching closely—both the protoss ship and him.
The executor was asking for the "protoss" to respond. Shit. Instead of answering, all Marcus could do was press down on the keypad, sending out the coordinates again. He knew that any person with even the smallest degree of sense would have alarm bells ringing.
He could practically see the executor's suspicion. Instead heading towards the planet, the ship hesitated.
Patience, it seems, wasn't Mira's strong suit. At that moment, mercenary ships uncloaked, surrounding the protoss vessel like a cloud. At the first sign of danger, the executor responded. Marcus saw a blue shimmer begin to surround the protoss ship—telltale sign of an initiated warp. But then one of the mercenary ships fired a disrupter. Though it didn't physically strike the vessel, the blue shimmer was immediately cut off. With its warp disabled, the vessel chose to strafe to the side with startling agility. It slipped between the narrow cracks of the mercenary ships.
Marcus tore his eyes away from the holographic map and looked out the windshield just in time to see a missile fly from Mira's ship and hit the protoss vessel's side fin. It was thrown from its carefully designed path and smacked into a mercenary ship. Gold bits drifted off the vessel and twinkled in the light of a far-off star.
Another open broadcast quickly came from the vessel. The executor's face returned to the screen. "I speak to the commander of the terrans—disengage!" Ariadis demanded urgently. "This is Ariadis of the protoss, executor under Hierarch Artanis. I am not your enemy!" As the executor spoke, the protoss vessel reoriented itself and resumed weaving through the ships that struggled to block its path. Just as it was about to reach the edge of the cloud, another missile struck it. Even from where he was, Marcus could tell the executor's ship was in bad shape.
The screen came to life again. "Disengage, I beseech you!" Her voice had dropped its authoritative tone. It almost sounded as though the executor was begging. "There is a civilian aboard! Cease fire!"
"Mira—!" Marcus couldn't stop his outcry.
"Don't worry, Markie," came the sly response. "Those were just a few love taps—just to keep them where I want them. They're much more valuable to me alive."
"This one's an executor," Marcus argued. "A—like a high-ranking one."
"Oh, and should I let her go? Let her return to her high-ranking friends and tattle? Loose lips sink ships, Markie. Besides, rank doesn't matter. They're all just protoss." Then, the mercenary boss added, "You did good. You should see the transfer in your account in a few days after I run the money through a few accounts first. Don't want your reputation soiled by connection with little old me, do you? Don't say I never did anything for you. Now, off you pop." To emphasize her words, Mira abruptly ended the transmission.
Marcus's hands tightened on the armrest. He looked over at saw that one of the mercenary ships had speared the protoss vessel with an anchor. The chain slowly pulled back, dragging the captive vessel with it. "Jay…"
"There's a civilian on board," Jamie said.
"I know. I just—."
"Marc, what did you get us into?"
"I don't know!" Marcus replied. "I didn't think it'd play out like this."
"Oh? And what did you think it would be like?"
Marcus didn't answer. He could only watch the ruined ship get towed in beside the mercenary ship. "We can't let them do this," he said quietly.
"No, we can't," Jamie agreed grimly. "So, Marc, what are we going to do? Betray one of the most dangerous mercenary leaders in the Koprulu Sector?"
"That's absolutely insane. Would we do something like that?"
Ariadis had never known fear like this before. To be confronted by danger that didn't just threaten her life, but the life of one dependent on her, was a gut-wrenching stab that no armor could protect against. The ship's warp had been disabled, and the closest pylon was light years away.
She looked to Torik. He met her eyes. "Go to the laboratory," she told him. "There is an emergency warp port—we should be close enough to the planet for the port to send you to its surface. Quickly!"
"What about you?"
Had panic not muddled her thoughts, Ariadis might have been touched by Torik's concern. But she was afraid, and that manifested outward as anger. "Listen to what I command of you!" she snapped. "The laboratory!"
"Executor, I have been captured by terran malefactors once before. I know you will not see one shred of kindness from them. I cannot just leave you to—!" A loud roar told the both of them that a connector had been forced into the Weaver. The terrans would be onboard any second now.
With precious seconds left, Ariadis pulsed psionic energy through her templar armor. It flowed through the alloy plating like blood through veins, charging up her shields. She felt the energy bundle in the gauntlet on her arms, collecting as sheathed psi-blades ready to be sprung.
"To the laboratory!" she barked to Torik once more. "Hide!" To her dismay, he resisted yet again.
"But—!"
"You will be nothing but a liability to me should you stay!" Ariadis finally roared, her brow crashing furiously down over her radiant eyes. Torik paused for only another heartbeat before turning his transport chair around. He disappeared quickly through the corridor.
When the terrans stormed aboard, Ariadis was ready for them. The first who stepped onto her ship were given no time to register the blur of flying gold and blue before they were cut down. By the time guns fired, Ariadis had kicked off of the nearest wall to escape their line of fire. Into the nearest terran, she sunk both her blades undeterred through his armor. Quickly she sheathed the blades and caught the terran before he fell. Clutching his ripped armor with both hands, she swung the terran around to shield herself from the next barrage of fire. A forceful shove sent the body crashing into the formation of mercenaries.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ariadis saw another heavy barrel point at her. Just as the first bullets shot from its end in a burst of light, she had dropped to the ground, planting open palms down to catch herself. A psi-blade erupted from her gauntlet as she pushed herself back up towards the terran. The pulsing psi-blade entered his body by his abdomen and sliced upwards through him as Ariadis rose. Finally the blade ripped free right below his neck.
The force from the blade shoved his body back, where he joined a sizeable number of dead. Even then, there were more boarding and Ariadis was struggling to keep up. She felt the pummeling of bullets against her back. The shields kept them from reaching her body, but their punches against her made the protoss stumble. Her shields had already lost a quarter of their power.
She didn't know why they were attacking. With such a formidable fleet size, she figured they had been part of the Dominion. But the terran sovereignty had proved to be allies of the Firstborn, and these terrans were anything but. All she could assume in the midst of adrenaline-pumping action was that this was a renegade faction—a Tal'darim equivalent, so to speak, back before the End War had lessened the chasm between them and the rest of the Firstborn.
Seconds had passed and left more terrans dead with armor torn up like mud underfoot. Her shields were now at less than fifty percent, and the closed space was making it harder to dodge their attacks. But a templar's psi-blades never rested while there was at least one other life worth fighting for.
If this was to be the end, so be it. Her life for Aiur.
When her shields expired, Ariadis expected to rejoin the heroes of old—Adun, Tassadar. Her father.
But the terrans did something unfathomable. They spared her. As soon as the field of blue encasing her exploded into shattered polygons, their guns quieted. Ariadis, exhausted and resolute, stilled to embrace death. When it did not come, she paused with confusion.
And then amidst the terrans, she saw one emerge—this one stood out with her brilliantly colored hair. In an instant, this terran had fired something, and as soon as the projectile stuck onto her, Ariadis felt a pain she had never experienced before. It coursed through her entire body. She lost control over her muscles as they spasmed uncontrollably. With a heavy thud, she hit the ground. Unable to lift her head, she watched the terran's boots as she walked up.
"3,000 volts," the pink-haired woman said. "Enough to incapacitate a bull and, apparently, protoss."
"Boss!" Araidis heard another terran call out. "We found this one further inside the ship!"
"Ah," the woman mused. "So this is the civilian you mentioned." Ariadis felt the ground shake as the mercenary carelessly threw Torik onto the ground next to her. Weakly, he lifted himself up, but a heavy foot crashed down and pinned him to the floor.
"Executor!" Torik cried. "Are you—?"
"Do not worry about me," Ariadis replied in a strained voice.
"What's wrong with 'im, Boss? Where's his legs?"
"Where yours will be if you don't shut up," the woman snapped to the one who had spoken up. "Take them back on board. Make sure they're nice and cozy and ready for interrogation."
"What about this ship?"
"Drag it in tow. I'm sure this thing, even as busted up as it is, will fetch a pretty penny somewhere."
"You heard the boss! Drag these freaks to the deck!"
"You get the one with the legs."
"Fuck that! Joel, you take it!'
"Hell, I got plans for that one for what it did to Jiff and Matt."
"Wait, I think that one's a chick."
"No fucking way. How can you tell?"
"I'm pretty sure."
"What, you a protoss expert now?"
"It's simple—just check for a dick."
"I ain't about to go looking for an alien schlong."
Ariadis and Torik were hauled aboard one of the terran ships, slung over the shoulders of the talking mercenaries. Still unable to move, Ariadis could only watch the terran's feet move below her and listen to the dull, rapid heartbeats. A door opened, and they passed through a threshold. Roughly, Ariadis was dropped down into a small, uncomfortable chair. Her body slumped limply against an armrest and her head lulled down to her chest.
"Stay right here," she heard the terran tell them. "The boss wants to ask you a few questions. Warning you now—don't you get all uppity and protoss-y with her. Remember, she only needs one of you to answer."
"What does she want?" Ariadis asked.
"Oh, you'll find out."
The room was dark, and the way it reminded him of being confined in that terran cage sent Torik's hearts racing. He glanced over at the executor. She was still affected by whatever they had done to her, as limp and motionless as a corpse. In that moment, Torik sorely wished the Khala still remained so that he could've found comfort in her presence there. He was terrified, helpless.
He was nothing like a templar.
"Executor, are you hurt?" he asked. The question was fruitless, but it was his only attempt at comforting her.
"Why did you not use the emergency warp?" Ariadis's cold tone told Torik that none of his consolation had been received.
He hesitated, remembering what had transpired in the laboratory. When he had entered, Torik had headed for the emergency warp port but stopped short. Something behind him had beckoned and he looked. Those things lurking just behind the containment field…
Suddenly, it had come to him. This was the chance he was waiting for—to prove to him, to Ariadis, and to all of the Firstborn, that he was not a liability. Not a cripple, but a templar.
But upon gazing at them, Torik had found himself seized by fear. Memories of the bay—of what those accursed appendages had turned him into—rushed into him like water flooding a punctured hull. And in that moment his determination swayed.
The next thing he knew, terrans had swarmed the laboratory. They pulled him away from his chair—away from those legs—and brought him back to the deck where the executor lay defeated.
Torik's recollections were interrupted when he heard the door open once again. Heavy soles punched the ground as someone came strolling in. It was the pink-haired terran, likely the leader of these unlawful insurgents. Behind her followed two mercenaries, though they lagged behind the woman.
This terran was… a sight. Torik spotted her artificial eye, and her body was covered thick in explosive devices that rendered her akin to a walking payload. She stopped in front of the two, crossing her arms and observing them quietly.
While Torik was too nervous to react, Ariadis was the first to speak. She could only lift her head as she snarled, "The protoss are not an enemy you should desire."
"Oh, I've got about twelve other big, scary 'higher-ups' after me—what's one more?" the terran dismissed casually. "Don't try to threaten me with your friends. Speaking of enemies, you don't know what kind you made when you stole from me."
"Stole?' Ariadis repeated. "We have thieved nothing from your people. Since the reclamation of Aiur we have only been rebuilding our home world."
"Hmm, and rebuilding takes resources, doesn't it? Machinery? It may have been yours to begin with, but that's beside the point. What matters is what you did to me." The terran uncrossed her arms. "And before you starting denying, have a look at this. Maybe this will refresh your memory." With a wave of her hand, she signaled a projection screen to pop up. Video surveillance was played of terran and protoss forces clashing fiercely in a large facility. The protoss ripped easily through the hardened mercenaries. Among them, Torik spotted both the green and blue psi-blades of Nerazim and Khalai warriors; templars utilizing the powers of the Void to disappear and reappear in flashes of smoke, and high templars casting powerful waves of psionic power from their hands.
Then, shortly, the terran paused the video. "Well?"
"No fleet was authorized to go to terran systems, let alone launch an assault," Ariadis insisted firmly.
"Funny, I must have imagined these ones then—and the casualties I sustained? Fabrications of my mind as well, I suppose."
Torik's eyes were focused on the image that the screen had been paused on. It showed protoss warriors just having broken through a mercenary line. Amidst the chaos and blood, something stood out in the still scene—the one leading the protoss. A Nerazim woman, her emerald eyes cold and almost mechanical.
As you wish. He had seen those eyes before.
"Hazuris." Torik let slip aloud her name. He saw the terran's mismatched eyes fix on him.
"Looks like the cat's out of the bag," she said. It dawned on Torik the gravity of what he had just done. "It's our lucky day, boys. We got one who knows exactly what we want to know, and by the looks of him it won't take much to make him squeal." She commanded one of the mercenaries over with a jerk of her head. He came to her and handed her something—a heavy, metal tool. The woman tapped its end against her palm, each strike weighty and solid. "So, Legless, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way. Your pick."
Torik watched the tool bounce with wide eyes. "Don't," he pleaded.
"Well, you tell me where this Hazuris is and where she took my machinery, and this little thing here will be just for show."
For a fleeting instant, Torik wondered if he could somehow lie his way to safety—feed the terran enough fodder for her to be satisfied and spare the two of them. But at that moment, as he was confronted by the heavy wrench, he found himself unable to spin any sort of lie. "I do not know," he confessed. "I do not know who the Nerazim is or where she resides now. Please—you must believe me!"
"Hard way, then," the terran replied. "Oh dear. You should know this is going to hurt me just as much."
"No—no! This is the truth!" Torik watched the wrench rise like an executioner's axe. "Please!"
Many things happened at once. Instead of swinging the wrench down at Torik, the terran instead lunged back just as a flash of blue lit up the room. Torik saw a psi-blade slice the air in front of him. It moved so fast it looked to him nothing but a blur and left him temporarily blinded.
The terran swung the wrench. Its hefty metal end cracked against Ariadis's skull and forced her to stumble back. In those vulnerable seconds, the mercenary leader had pulled out her high-voltage gun and fired another shot at Ariadis. When it hit the executor, Torik heard her anguished cry echo in his mind. Ariadis convulsed violently as electricity coursed through her body. She fell heavily down onto her knees.
"Put that one down. We don't need her," the terran commanded.
A mercenary came up to the downed executor, raising his rifle to deliver the execution. Just as he pointed the barrel, Ariadis suddenly brought an arm up. Her gauntlet flashed, and the mercenary's gun clattered to the floor along with his severed hand. Ariadis's psi-blade was lodged through his chest before he even had a chance to react. The second mercenary fired, but the bullets, along with his body, smashed against the wall from the powerful psionic pulse Ariadis threw at him. Rising to her feet, the executor grabbed the shock bolt and ripped it free from her body.
As Torik witnessed the awe-inspiring scene, he suddenly felt pain between his eyes as the barrel of a handgun pushed against his skull. He saw Ariadis turn to her last foe and freeze.
"I do love morals," the terran mused. "They make such good weapons. Drop your blades, protoss. No—don't just put them away. Take those things off your arms and drop them to the ground."
Ariadis's gauntlets fell heavily onto the ground. Still weak, the executor stumbled but quickly caught herself.
"That's good. Come in now—she's ready." The door opened and a third mercenary stepped in. "Do stay still—it'll hurt less. And if you think about lashing out again, I can get rid of both of you and always find another one of your people to do this exact same thing with."
The mercenary put a hand on Ariadis's shoulder and forced her down. Her blue eyes switched from the terran to Torik's as the barrel lined against the back of her head.
At the sound of the gunshot, Torik couldn't stop himself from crying out, "Executor!"
But it was not Ariadis who fell. Torik caught sight of a grisly, open exit wound on the mercenary's forehead before he collapsed. Behind where he was stood another terran. No, not just any terran—.
"Marcus!" Torik said in disbelief.
Marcus had his gun trained on the mercenary leader now. "Sorry, Mira," he said. "I gotta crash this party."
The terran, Mira as Marcus had called her, gave the dead mercenary a glance with an apathetic sigh. "Oh Markie," she mused. "Do you make it a habit to disappoint women?"
"In the event this head up here's the one that decides to do the thinking, yes," Marcus replied, tapping his temple. "Mira, I can't let you take these two."
"And why is that? Friends of yours?"
"You could say that."
"Markie." The gun barrel pushed harder against Torik, forcing his head back. "You know I could have you dead any second if I wanted it. Luckily for you, I'm much too fond of having you around." She tilted her head and gave Marcus a look as though she were gazing down at something small and cute. "It's such a shame I'm already a married woman."
"Listen, you don't have to pay me. And I'll help you find the protoss who stole your machinery—these two had nothing to do with it, I swear."
"Help me find them? What makes you think you've got what it takes? You couldn't find a bit of common sense even if it crawled into bed with you."
"Mira, hun, come on now. That was under the belt."
Was this… banter between the two? While Ariadis was fatigued and wounded and Torik himself had a gun's barrel jammed against his head.
"I know where they are, Mira."
"Pull the other one."
"They're on Sh'lera."
At that, Mira cocked an eyebrow. "Sh'lera? Titanium Industries's Sh'lera?"
"Yeah. I can take you there, and then you can deliver your comeuppance. Just don't start an intergalactic war here."
"Oh, but mercenaries thrive during war," Mira said. "Governments like getting their victories, even they're through hired guns. And they're the ones with the money." Still Mira had made her decision and pulled her gun away from Torik.
"So it's a deal?"
"I do enjoy working with you, Markie."
"Alright," Marcus replied airily, almost as though he were holding back a sigh of relief. "Just give me a sec to get these two back on their ship, and then we'll set off. Promise I won't pull a fast one."
"Oh, I know you won't," Mira replied, boredly examining her gun. "Especially not with five of my ships trained on your little Caravan."
"I need that for work, Mira." As Marcus passed the mercenary leader on his way to Torik, she suddenly stopped him with a raised arm.
"No," she said, gripping Marcus's jaw and turning his face towards her. "You work for me now. Be a good boy and try not to forget that." Torik spotted that strange lump in Marcus's throat move up and down. She released him and cast one more glance at Torik before heading towards the door. "Don't keep me waiting." Outside of the dim room, Torik heard her shout, "Someone clean up that mess in there!"
"Come on. Up you get," Marcus said with a grunt as he hoisted Torik onto his shoulder. Under his breath, he muttered, "Man, I've got a weakness for crazy. Not that much crazy." He turned to Ariadis. "Executor, are you—?"
"I am fine," Ariadis insisted as she rose unsteadily onto her feet. Her hand was pressed gingerly over the part of her abdomen where the second shock bolt had struck her. She followed Marcus and Torik as they headed off towards the ship and back onto the damaged Weaver. Torik could see the ship's small crew of drones already buzzing around the interior and exterior, making repairs all around.
A few mercenaries spotted them leaving the ship, though it was apparent that the Mira woman had given them the orders to stand down as they only watched. "They're still alive?" Torik heard one of them mutter to the other.
When they were back aboard the Weaver, Marcus found Torik's abandoned transport chair in the laboratory and placed him back on it. Torik felt it reconnect with his nerve cords. Ariadis lowered herself heavily on a nearby cot.
"How did you manage to negotiate with that degenerate?" Ariadis asked Marcus.
"Careful," Marcus warned with a paranoid glance over his shoulder. "Well, let's just say it's damn lucky that Mira considers me her type."
"And now you are indebted to her," Torik said, remembering the deal they had struck. "A most unfortunate position. Why did you do it?"
"Why do you think?" Ariadis answered instead. She shot a wary look at Marcus. "He aided them in our capture." The guilty look that appeared on Marcus's face was all that was needed to validate her accusation.
"Listen, I—."
"No matter," the executor interrupted, her tone warming just slightly. "You protected Torik where I could not. We are both alive because of you. I say that is more than enough redemption." Ariadis lifted her hand to peek at her abdomen. "We will be fine for now. I think it best if you do not keep that terran mercenary waiting."
Marcus glanced from Ariadis to Torik. "Stay safe out there," he said.
"And you as well, friend Marcus," Torik replied.
When Marcus was gone, the Weaver was detached from the mercenary ship. A protective shield surrounded the broken hull to protect its inhabitants from cold space. Ariadis told Torik that they would need to remain adrift for a while longer until the drones had finished their repairs. A smaller drone in the laboratory was tending to the burn wounds that the shock bolts had inflicted onto Ariadis.
"Executor," Torik said. "I do not wish for you to feel shackled to the need to protect me. I am not a youngling. I have accepted the dangers of our journey as you have."
Ariadis paused. The bay was silent except for the quiet buzzing of the medical drone. Then, Ariadis replied, "I pray you do not adopt an ego akin to that of the praetor's. I am executor, Torik. It is my sworn duty to look after my people however I can." Then, Ariadis added, "I was mistaken to call you a liability." She stood up and pushed the drone in Torik's direction. It drifted towards the crippled protoss and began scanning him for injuries. "I will check on the status of this ship—the sooner we leave this sector, the better."