In order to avoid confusion for those who haven't read my other story "Putting the Pieces back together" and aren't too keen on reading over one million words in order to get what's going on, here's the shortest possible synopsis: 1000 years have passed since the end of the Great War (and therefore Legacy of the Void). No one remembers the names Kerrigan or Raynor anymore, therefore it is of little consequence wherever Paula uses the name or not.
Chapter 2
Non-Volunteers forward!
Marshal Dan Bowski wasn't what you would call a born leader. Most people would call him awkward and uninspiring. However, there was one huge misconception in place here. People assumed that he was boring and weird. The truth was that he simply didn't care about winning folk over so they would like him. That didn't mean that he was an unsocial bastard, far from it. But at the same time, he simply wasn't exactly what you would call a "people-person".
His looks sure as hell had helped him to be left alone most of the time. While not exactly bad looking, Bowski had a very distinguished look. Tall and thin, he stood almost two meters high. Though "thin" wasn't the right way to describe him. Lean, yet at the same time tough and hardy. He was used to hard work and possessed a stamina that most people surprised. There were guys that had the size of a goddamn brick house and they could lift a truck and eat half a cow in one go. Bowski wasn't one of those. However, he could march all day and then some more while carrying half a cow on his back. His constitution was nothing short of a miracle and had allowed him to rise to the rank of Marshal at a young age.
There were still many worlds like Flemmington; on the fringe and barely able to survive on their own. And for a guy like Bowski, worlds like these were perfect.
He wasn't a local. But he had grown fond of this world. What people called "the big city" made him feel uncomfortable. Flemmington's entire population was just a little bit below 2 million, and roughly half of them lived either in the capital Russou City or around it. Bowski wasn't the only Marshal on this world, but he had gained a reputation for being the only one who actually liked to journey to the most remote places on this planet. That, and the fact that he had no family, had convinced the Magistrate to appoint him to be the guide of the little group of archaeologists from Korhal.
Oh, joy!
He so had to thank the Magistrate for that.
Maybe send her some poisoned chocolate?
Another thing that baffled most people when they were dealing with the Marshal was what he considered his most useful ability; his discipline. He wasn't proud of it. He knew that some actually admired him for that. And that others called him crazy. But to him, it was just the way he liked to do things. His discipline had helped him to become the man he was today. If you do something, don't think about it, don't say that you want to do it, don't make it complicated. Just do it. One step after the other.
When he woke up, Bowski didn't even have to look on his watch, he knew that it was one hour before sunrise. He did check his watch nonetheless, only to confirm that his body clock was better than most mechanical ones.
Perhaps his most prominent feature was his face. Some called it gaunt. Others had told him that he reminded them of a hawk. Sounds flattering at first, right? But what they had meant was that he had a thin face and a piercing gaze, one that caused people to feel highly uncomfortable when he would look them into the eyes. "Corporal Cadaver" had been one of his less flattering nicknames during his time as a recruit. Funny thing; many people actually asked him if he was psionically gifted because of his icy gaze. His gray eyes made people feel as if he could look right into their souls.
However, the sad truth was that he was as psionically gifted as a brick, which was rather unusual these days.
One thousand years ago, being psionically gifted had been a rare condition, a stigma even. Only one person in over two million had possessed the genetic trait necessary to develop these abilities, and out of those, only a meager four percent had actually developed some sorts of psionic powers. And we are only talking about people that had managed to reach level one or two on the psi-indicator, which were worlds apart from the strongest human psionic ever recorded, which had been a staggering 10. Even now scientists and historians debated wherever they could trust data that was over one thousand years old. Perhaps someone had made a joke back then and no one had been able to see through it. The name of that said human was weird too. Who would call their child "November Terra"? Bowski had watched these stupid infotainment-shows about that legendary psionic as well, but he had never truly believed in any of it.
Still, it was still funnier to watch than those weird stories about a "legendary level 12". Every now and then someone would claim that there once had been a human with a psionic level above already mentioned 10. Most legit scientists agreed that something like that was impossible. A being of such power would theoretically able to rip apart time and space.
And that sounded like stupid fiction.
So yeah, Bowski didn't believe that this "level 12" had ever existed either. Then again, it hardly mattered, since he was roughly a level minus 47, which was actually pretty amazing since nowadays psionics were a lot more command than they had been. In this time one out of 700 people was psionically gifted. Some even dared to say that this was the future of humankind. Again, the Marshal wasn't really sure wherever he should believe it or not. Apparently, there was some kind of growing cult out there, looking for people that had psionic talents in order to breed them or something like that. If that was true, then he would probably not be part of that glorious future since his genes weren't made out of the right stuff.
Bummer, really.
Good thing that he didn't care about stuff like that.
Back in the here and now Bowski had other things to worry about. Like for example getting up and preparing for the day. It took him less than five minutes to get out of his sleeping bag, get dressed, shave, brush his teeth and step out of his tent. He was greeted by absolute darkness. Some clouds had appeared over night and were now blocking out the stars, robbing the scenery of any natural light. The Marshal sniffed the air and licked his lips. It was dry, which meant that the clouds wouldn't bring any rain. Good. Rain was the last thing they needed right now. It would only prolong this senseless mission and he wasn't looking forward to something like that. Bowski turned around and checked the base-camp. All the others tents were still silent, no one was awake aside from him. It came hardly as a surprise to Bowski. These people were scientists and big-city-folk. Some of them probably had never actually slept outside.
When the Marshal came past a tent that was bigger than the others, he noticed that it was wide open. Curiosity got the better of him and when he peeked inside, he could see the weirdest members of this expedition.
Sirella, the Protoss, was lying on a mat that looked like it was made out of...something. Something that Bowski had never seen before. Instead of using a sleeping-bag (one had to wonder if there were even sleeping-bags in the size of Protoss), she was hugging a crystal that was emitting a faint blue glow. If she was freezing, then she sure didn't show it. Her eyes were closed, so Bowski just assumed that she was sleeping. However, the other person in the tent was actually a lot weirder, even though she was no Protoss.
"...wanna...squidfishes..." Paula mumbled. She wasn't using a sleeping bag either. It didn't seem to bother her, though. She was lying on Sirella as if she was using the bigger Protoss like a pillow. Those two...they were definitely the weirdest people Bowski had ever met.
"Huh..." Bowski muttered when he thought about the absurdity of this whole situation. Just how the hell had he ended up out here with a bunch of eggheads in the first place?
Two weeks earlier...
The Magistrate's office...
The moment Marshal Dan Bowski entered the building, he was glad that he had decided to put on some fresh clothes before coming here. The Magistrate's office was by no means a palace. On the contrary, it was what you would call a "functional building". If you wanted to describe this place, you would use words like boring, dull, gray and ugly. The first humans to settle the world of Flemmington had arrived on the planet roughly 400 years ago. In all that time this huge block of concrete had done its job.
Or, how people liked to say: It ain't pretty, but it sure is ugly!
In a way, it was your typical administration building, built in a time where the population of Flemmington had counted only about fifty thousand people. Now there were over two million living on this rock of dirt and no one had actually bothered to add some rooms. As a result, this whole place was close to Bowski's personal nightmare; it was filled with people that were annoyed and pissed off. Thankfully he didn't have to sit down and wait. Instead, he walked over to the receptionist and placed his hands on the cool stone of the desk.
"Marshal Bowski." he said. "Heard the Magistrate wants to see me." The receptionist, a slightly out-of-date mechanoid, looked up and tilted its head to the side.
"Please confirm identity." the robot declared and pointed its finger on a scanner right in front of it. Perhaps it came as a surprise that these robots were still around. But then again, never fix what ain't broken. Or something like that. Ever since the introduction of adjutants over one thousand years ago, the use of humanoid or human-like robots for administrative purposes had become a normal thing. They weren't what you would call A.I.s. Those things, sorry, those people existed as well. But sentient machines were on a whole different level and they liked to stick to themselves. There were many sentient computers among the Protoss that liked to call themselves the "Children of the Purifiers".
Why are we talking about this again?
Ah, yes.
The robot right in front of Bowski.
That thing wasn't sentient. It just seemed that way until you asked it things like "What is the meaning of life?" and stuff.
"Ugh, have it your way." Bowski growled and placed his hand on the scanner that did its job at once. Once done, the robot's head twitched and looked at the Marshal once more.
"Identity confirmed. Welcome, Marshal Bowski. You have – one – appointment. Magistrate Swann is expecting you in her office."
"Thanks bunches." Bowski mumbled and turned away. He knew the way to the office, he had been here plenty of times. Mostly not by choice, though. Right now there were 14 marshals working on Flemmington. Well, actually there were only eleven. One marshal was stationed on the moon orbiting Flemmington, and two more on the mining-stations at the outer edge of the system.
Why so many marshals for one world, you ask?
Wouldn't one marshal be enough?
Well, not really. Or do you think that one policeman is enough for a whole goddamn plant?
Marshals were not part of the normal police force. While every world within the Empire had local law enforcement, marshals were actually employed by the ministry for internal affairs on Korhal, the Empire's capital. That meant that they were technically on the same level as the federal police, even though most people liked to overlook that fact. Especially those who were working for the federal police. Apparently, they didn't like it if you compared them with the Office of Outward Affairs, the guys Bowski was actually working for. And yes, his future statement that he had never been to a big and fancy place like Korhal would be a lie. It was the place where he had received his badge after four years of hard training.
But even then most people thought that being a marshal was about being a badass, smoke tons of cigarettes, drink like a lumberjack and curse like a sailor. None of that was true and-
"...stupid 'effin stairs..." Bowski growled when he squeezed himself upwards.
Well, he didn't smoke and didn't drink, so let's leave it at that.
Since the Magistrate's office was severely overcrowded, the staff had started to use the corridors and the staircase to park all the file cabinets outside their offices. From the looks of it, there were enough files to build a second building. The Magistrate's office itself was nothing spectacular. It didn't even have an outer office. Back on Korhal every git and their grandmother had had their own office including an outer office. He knocked on the door and it didn't even take one second until someone screamed "YES!". And so Bowski opened the door and stepped inside.
"Magistrate Swann, you wanted to see m-WHAT IN TARNATION IS GOING ON HERE?!" the Marshal barked the moment he stepped inside.
Dan Bowski had seen plenty of weird shit in his life. Like that one time when a former colleague with a serious drug problem had managed to gain access to the evidence room for an entire weekend. To keep things short: It hadn't been pretty.
There were sad things, there were horrible things...
...and then there were things that were downright weird.
Like the situation that was going on right in front of Bowski.
Magistrate Swann was a well-known woman on Flemmington. She was rather short, not even 150 centimeters tall. Which was always rather awkward when Bowski would stand right in front of her, since he was almost two meters tall. She had to look straight up, he had to look straight down. But that wasn't the only odd about her size. Swann was also somewhat, well, wide. Not fat, just...wide.
Some people liked to call her "Captain Cubicle", which wasn't very flattering but pretty damn accurate. Then again, the people who called her like that were the same kind of people that had called Bowski "Corporal Cadaver". Aside from her geometric form, the Magistrate was actually a very popular figure on Flemmington. She was known for displaying a happy attitude almost all of the time and stayed in close contact with the citizens. Everyone could come to her and ask for help. She had an open-door policy. There was just one thing that you should never do.
As we already established, Magistrate Swann was rather...short.
If you dared to call her "Shortie" or a dwarf, she had the bad habit to prove that she could down people double her size. While she wasn't one to use violence to solve her problems, the Magistrate enjoyed to challenge people that needed a lecture to a round of boxing. And given her size, Margret Swann's fists were in the perfect position to punch pretty much everyone right into the liver.
Oh yeah, "Lady Liverhook" was another one of her nicknames.
Enough with the nicknames...
"You are right!" Magistrate Swann beamed when she looked down from her current position. "Being tall is awesome! I should have tried this ages ago!" And indeed, Bowski had to look up in order to look the Magistrate into the eyes, which was a first. But not because she had experienced a sudden growth spurt. No, that wasn't the reason.
The reason for the Magistrate's head brushing against the ceiling of her office was because she was sitting on the shoulders of a goddamn Protoss...
"See? I told you so!" a woman with long, brown hair cheered. She was standing right next to the Protoss and smiling like an idiot. "Being tall is awesome. Isn't that right, Sirella?"
"Can I put the Magistrate down now?" the Protoss whined. Only then Bowski realized that it had to be a female. He could only tell because of her voice. Aside from that, he had no idea how to tell if a Protoss was male or female. "She's kinda heavy..."
"Aren't you Protoss supposed to be really strong?" the Magistrate asked and looked down. "I know that I'm short, but I also know that I'm not heavy!"
"I'm not a warrior!" Sirella groaned. "I'm an artist! I study art! Paula, why did you drag me out here?!"
"Uhm..." a new voice suddenly caught Bowski's attention. He turned his head around and noticed a middle-aged man wearing a ridiculous outfit. The man looked as if he had prepared himself for a goddamn safari. He was wearing khaki shorts, a khaki-shirt...and even a tropical hat. Was this guy for real? There was no jungle on all of Flemmington! "...Ladies, perhaps we can get back to the matter at hand and...oh, we have a guest." That's when the people in the office finally noticed Bowski.
"Uh...hi." the Marshal mumbled. To be fair, no one had ever trained him for a situation like this. Then again, he had his doubts that anyone could prepare you for a situation like this.
"Marshal Bowski! Is that you?" Magistrate Swann beamed as she looked down at him. "It's so hard to tell, you look so tiny from up here!"
"Uh huh..." was all Bowski managed to answer.
"Man, this place looks so much cleaner from above!"
"I'm sure it does." the Marshal mumbled.
"Hey, Marshal...are you thinning out at the top?" the Magistrate mused.
"Not that I know of." Bowski sighed.
"Well, you know what they say about bald men, right?"
"I sure don't." And then he took a deep breath. "Can someone please tell me what's going on here? And please, make it make sense."
"In that case, I should probably be the one talking to you." the other man said and offered his hand to Bowski. "Professor Jerome Allagan, from the University of Augustgrad." The Marshal grabbed the other man's hand and gave it a soft squeeze.
"Marshal Dan Bowski. Nice to meet you. Did you just say...Augustgrad? Did you come all the way out here from Korhal?!" While space travel wasn't something fantastic in this time and age, a journey from Korhal to Flemmington was still a pretty damn impressive feat. It must have taken months to get out here.
"Yes/No!" the three newcomers said at the same time and Bowski frowned when he heard that.
"Say what?" That's when Allagan sighed and looked over to the other two members of his little group...and the Magistrate that was still sitting on the Protoss' shoulders.
"Pardon me. I guess we should do this the right way." the Professor explained. "How about the Magistrate will climb down Miss Sirella's shoulders and we talk about this, like, well, uhm..."
"Like?" Bowski asked. That's when the young, brown-haired woman made a step forward and offered him a goofy smile.
"He wants to say: like adults. Hi there. Paula Kerrigan. All-time badass and part-time treasure hunter! Nice to meet'cha!" There was a long and awkward moment of silence where no one said a word. Bowski stared at the young woman who offered her hand to him and thought about his next step carefully.
And then...
"Is this a joke?" the Marshal asked after a while and looked over, well, up at the Magistrate.
"I'm afraid it isn't, Marshal. Meet your new job." Swann declared and pointed with his finger at the newcomers.
"I would like to have some more information first, if you don't mind." Bowski replied. "Oh, and could you come down from up there? My neck is starting to hurt."
"Ha! Finally you know how I feel all the time!" the Magistrate explained. "Alas! Justice has been served! I have been vindicated!"
"I think you're using that word the wrong way." the woman called Paula said.
"Whatever." Swann muttered and patted the Protoss she was sitting on her massive head. "Thanks for the new perspective, Miss Sirella. I appreciate your effort. You can put me down now." And so the Protoss did as she was told. One awkward situation later "Captain Cubicle" was back on her feet, and now Bowski had to look down again. Which was actually just as straining on his neck as looking up all the time.
"Well, this a perspective I'm more used to." the Magistrate sighed, turned around and walked over to her desk. She sat down behind it and leaned back. "Marshal, these people have come all the way out here, to our charming little community, in order to uncover the mystery of the past. Isn't that great?"
"That's magnificent." the Marshal griped. "I'm so thrilled that I can't even imagine why anyone wants to come out here. Or has someone found out that the dirt on this world is actually made out of gold? Gosh, does that mean we have been sitting on a fortune all that time?"
"Marshal, tone down that sarcasm a bit, will you?" Swann shot back.
"I will try." was Bowski's dry answer.
"I'm sure you will." was Swann's reply that was just as dry. "Anyway, the reason why I have called you over is that this group of researchers will need a guide."
"Then hire one." Bowski muttered. "Being a guide isn't part of my job description."
"Blunt as always, Marshal. Good thing that I like that about you." the Magistrate sighed. "Let's make this one short, shall we? I feel a bit dizzy. All that air aloft is a new experience for me. Marshal, these people want to go south, near Fletcher's Falls."
"Fletcher's Falls?" the Marshal asked and looked at the small group of weird people. "There's nothing out there. Nothing but dust and dirt."
"Well, we have solid proof that-" Professor Allagan started but then he was cut short by the Magistrate again.
"I told these people that you know that area better than anyone else I know. That's why I recommended you to them. I hope you don't mind." the short woman cooed.
"This is for the one time when I forgot your birthday, isn't it?"
"No one forgets my birthday. And not coming to my birthday party is actually a criminal offense. Death by chocolate cake is the usual punishment." the Magistrate joked.
"Hmm, chocolate cake..." the woman called Paula moaned when she heard that.
"But this is not about you being a failure as a party-guest, Marshal. You are indeed the best man for the job. That, and all the other marshals already managed to snivel their way out of this assignment."
"So I'm your last straw?"
"Pretty much."
"Charming. What makes you think that I don't try to snivel my way out of this either?"
"Because..." Swann giggled. "...you have a sense of professionalism. And I can entrust you a group of civilians without having to be worried that they will end up as corpses by accident." The moment she said that, you could see how both the Professor and the Protoss went pale. Which was actually pretty amazing because up till now Bowski hadn't known that Protoss actually can get pale.
"Uhm...I hope that our arrival doesn't mean any trouble for you. We are just a small expedition and have only come out here to verify the possible location of a derelict vessel of significant archaeological value."
"Say what?" Bowski asked.
"Rebel Heart." the woman called Paula then interjected. "We are looking for the Rebel Heart."
Perhaps introductions are in order. Rebel Heart. First (and only) vessel of the Freedom-class of battlecruisers introduced into the Dominion's navy shortly after the Great War. Just like the aircraft carrier Enterprise on Ancient Earth, the Rebel Heart had achieved almost mystical fame. She was more than just a ship. If people talked about strength, honor and gallantry, they usually thought about this vessel. The reality, of course, had been a lot less spectacular.
There was no doubt that the Rebel Heart had existed. The Empire had actually employed several vessels with this name, and all of them had served the fleet with distinction. The first Rebel Heart hadn't been part of any battle, but it had become a legend in its own regard nonetheless. Official records indicated that the ship had been broken down for scraps after serving for over 60 years. But every now and then treasure hunters would claim that the ship had never been phased out of service. Instead, it had been used to test new and advanced technologies. One of the most popular stories was that the vessel had been lost during the test of a new jump-drive.
Bowski had never believed these stories. But he had to admit that the idea of finding something like the Rebel Heart had its charm. Then again, the Marshal had stopped believing such stories when he had turned twelve, so he wasn't really looking forward to any of this.
Unfortunately, he didn't get much of a choice. And so his job had been to make sure that this small team of explorers wouldn't kill themselves by accident.
It hadn't been just those three, though. No, sadly not. Aside from the Professor, the Protoss, and the self-proclaimed "badass", there had been nine more students, all of them eager to make history. Or something like that. Truth to be told, Bowski had been certain that these people would give up after a week of finding nothing but dirt. Unfortunately, at least one member of this expedition had proven to be more competent than the Marshal had initially believed. And now they had actually found something beneath the surface, buried beneath dust and rubble.
Bowski enjoyed the moment of silence. Right now the others were still sleeping. Watching a group of eggheads wasn't exactly the most fascinating thing to do, but it demanded your whole and undivided attention. At least the Marshal didn't have to be worried about criminals or looters or that kind of stuff. Flemmington was a fringe-world, yes. But it wasn't a barbaric fringe-world. The worst thing he had to fear was that one of the researchers would get lost by accident.
Then again, if something like that would happen, it could ruin Bowski's day nonetheless.
The group wasn't that large. The Professor and nine students/research assistants including the Protoss Sirella. And, of course, the self-proclaimed "badass".
This might sound weird but it wasn't Sirella that was the oddity in this group.
No, the true oddity was that woman, Kerrigan.
Not actually a member of the university, she had been recommended to Allagan as a guide and "jack-of-all-trades" by a colleague called Brent. Apparently, her skills lay "elsewhere", whatever that was supposed to mean. According to Allagan, his colleague Brent had found reports and documents hinting that a vessel of the size of a battlecruiser had entered this system several hundred years ago, only to vanish into obscurity after that. Bowski would have never considered journeying to another world at the ass end of the galaxy only to confirm a rumor.
But apparently being a researcher meant that you could do stuff like that.
What did he know?
In order to be certain that there was nothing wrong with this place, Bowski decided to walk the perimeter once more. And just as expected there was nothing going on at all. The clouds began to disperse and soon the twilight of a new day was approaching. The Marshal did notice a change in the air. It tasted...different. Unusual. He had spent so many time out here, Bowski could tell how the weather would be merely by sniffing the air.
"Weird." he whispered when he looked up at the sky. The clouds seemed to move in weird ways, something he had never seen before and-
"What's weird?"
"Gha!" the Marshal hissed and turned around. Behind him stood none other than the badass. "Kerrigan! Pro-tip: Don't sneak up on people that have guns."
"Noted." the young woman replied. "Pro-tip: If you don't have any gun, that statement is invalid." When Bowski heard those words, his hands wandered to his holster only to realize that his gun...
...was gone.
"Mother of...!" he snarled and looked at Kerrigan, who merely handed his pistol over to him. He yanked it from her hand and checked it for any damage. Or worse, for any sign that she had used it. But then he realized that the safety was still switched on.
"Don't worry, I'm not into guns." Kerrigan told him. "My Mum raised me to be a pacifist."
"That's reassuring." Bowski growled. "How did you get it from me in the first place? Don't tell me that one of your qualities is that you got sticky fingers."
"I got lots of talents." Kerrigan replied. "Maybe one day I will show them to you. If you're nice."
"I think I'll pass. Thanks." The Marshal then turned around and looked over to the base camp. "Your pals are still sleeping. They sure need their beauty sleep."
"Oh, you don't know half of it. Sirella is especially grumpy if she doesn't get her eight hours of sleep."
"Right..." Bowski mumbled. "...you know, prying isn't exactly in my nature-"
"That's what everyone claims before they pry." Kerrigan mused.
"...but I do have to ask how you ended up in the company of a Protoss."
"It might surprise you, but I actually know a bunch of Protoss." the young woman replied.
"You're right. It does surprise me."
"Aw, now you're just mean. Sirella is a good friend of mine. I would even dare to say that she's my best friend." Kerrigan explained.
"Does she know?"
"You know, Marshal, I kinda like your humor. Reminds me of my master."
"Master? Master in what?"
"How to annoy people. I graduated with honors." Kerrigan explained.
"You just can't give me a straight answer, can you?"
"Sure I could. But where's the fun in that. If you want to know more about me, then you have to find it out yourself." The young woman then turned around and walked towards the base camp.
"And why would I want to do that?" Bowski shouted after her.
"Because I'm awesome! Deal with it!"
As the sun climbed over the horizon and the day finally arrived, the small group of researchers began to finally wake up. It was truly a sorry sight. They all looked as if they had survived a goddamn battle. These people certainly weren't used to sleeping outside. The moment he saw how the first students crawled out of their tents, Bowski actually felt a bit of pity for them. Korhal was the Empire's capital and one of the most heavily urbanized planets known to man.
After the entire crew had finally managed to get up and gather in the center of the camp, it was time for a much-needed speech.
"Okay, folks. This is how we're going to do things." Bowski declared while looking at the researchers. "The two guys who want to bring more supplies should arrive till noon. Hopefully. Once they are here, we need all able hands in order to unload those supplies and make sure everything is in order. Until then I suggest that you clean your tents. Make sure to keep your sleeping-bags dry. Dustbiters like dark, wet and warm places. Just remember: Once your warm and wet sleeping-bag isn't good enough for them, they will something that's even warmer and wetter. And if you're unfortunate and inside your sleeping-bag when that happens, they might pick your mouth or your butt for that." Some of the students and researchers went pale when they heard had, yet no one dared to ask Bowski if he was actually making a joke.
"Now, this is a scientific expedition. I get that. And I don't intend to breathe down your neck." the Marshal then declared. "But if everything works out okay, then we will stay in this place for a while. And that means that we have to talk about some things. Some things that might be no-brainers for some of you. Still, I have to do this. I won't enjoy it any more than you do, trust me."
Well, that sounded promising...
Bowski bowed down and picked something up. He held the object high up into the air and made sure that everyone could take a good look at it.
"This is a shovel." he explained. "It is a tool. You use it to dig holes."
"Uhm..." one student muttered. "...I think we know what a shovel is."
"Yes, we are no hillbillies!" someone else joked. Bowski showed no emotion as the eggheads started to snicker. Even Allagan seemed to be unsure wherever he should laugh or not. However, he was older and knew how to control his own emotions.
"I never claimed that." Bowski replied. "And I understand that you big-city-folk are a lot more educated than roughly ninety percent of Flemmington's population. And that you know all the fancy secrets that the Empire has to offer. Like proper hygiene." That caused the young people to laugh out loud.
"It's true." the Marshal admitted. "It might sound weird to you people, but out here hygiene is still a sore topic. You know, not everyone has endless amounts of hot water pouring out of the tap. There are some settlements out here where the people actually have to use a well in order to get water. Crazy, right?"
"Sounds like the Middle Ages!" someone sneered. "Are people still dying of the plague?"
"Yeah, and when was the last time you guys burned witches?"
"Thursday." Bowski replied. "No, wait. Tuesday. Yeah, that day with the L in it." Give the people a doofus and they will show their true colors.
"Guess it's tough if you don't know how to wash your hands after going to the bathroom." a young woman snickered.
"Kinda hard to do that if you don't have any bathroom." the Marshal mused. "Anyway, I get it that you know a lot more about personal hygiene than most. So don't get this the wrong way when I tell you this..." And then he smashed the shovel into the ground with full force. "...the next person who decides to poop near the camp will find out how painful it is to have a shovel shoved up their butts!" Suddenly the people stopped laughing and Bowski squinted his eyes. He could see how they swallowed hard when he stared at them. He wasn't angry, not really. But he knew that he could intimidate most people just by looking at them. And that was exactly what he was trying to do.
"You know, I get it. You are from a place where toilet flushing is a basic human right. You don't have to worry about feces. Out here, you do." Bowski explained. "Not even animals take a dump where they eat. And we want to stay here for a while. So I will only say this once: If you feel the urge to follow nature's call, then take this damn shovel, dig a hole, do what you feel is right, and then close the hole again. With dirt." Some of the researchers seemed to be still confused wherever he was making fun of them. Well, he wasn't.
"I mean it!" Bowski barked. "If we don't keep this place clean, then it will bite us in the butt later on. This isn't Korhal. This is the wilderness. Just because there are no dangerous animals doesn't mean that we don't have to be careful. It's my job to keep you safe. But that doesn't mean that I have to clean up your mess. Literally. So get your, and forgive that bad pun, shit together!"
There was an awkward moment of silence and no one dared to say anything.
"I see we have reached an agreement. Hooray for diplomacy." the Marshal mused. "There are other things that we have to speak about. We need rules. So let's start with the easy stuff. No one will leave the basecamp without my explicit permission. I don't want to have to explain to the Magistrate why I lost a bunch of people out in the wilderness. That goes double for nighttime. Once it's time to sleep, the only place where I will find you is your sleeping bag." Bowski's orders caused some of the people to frown and complain.
"We are not little kids!"
"This is stupid, we don't have to listen to that."
"Damn fascist!"
"Yeah, yeah, cry me a river." Bowski replied. "It's really simple, folks. You will follow my orders or I will send you straight back to Russou City. Your choice. Oh, and you should look up the definition of the word "fascist". I think you don't really know what it means." He looked at a lot of unhappy faces, yet no one dared to complain. That's when Professor Allagan stood up and coughed a few times in order to get everyone's attention.
"Well..." he said. "...that was certainly an interesting speech." He offered the Marshal a friendly smile and then he looked over to his people. "I'm sure everyone understands that we are only guests out here. The Marshal knows this place better than anyone else. It is in our best interest to listen to what he has to say. Wouldn't you agree with that?" The students and researchers exchanged annoyed looks but no one dared to speak up.
"Great. Then we can get down to business." Bowski sighed. "Unless someone has a question and-" That's when one student raised her hand and the Marshal sighed. "...yes?"
"Where are Kerrigan and that Protoss?" the young woman asked and only then Bowski realized that the unlikely duo was indeed not with them.
That's when the Marshal felt how his eyelid started to twitch.
"KERRIGAN!"
"Do you think it's wise to just come out here without waiting for the others? And that the Marshal is okay with that?" Sirella whined. "I don't want to make that man angry. He's scary."
"Aw, quit your whining, big girl." Paula replied. "The Marshal and I are already pals for life."
"You say that about every person you spend more than 5 minutes with." the Protoss muttered.
"What can I say?" the young woman mused. "I just have a way with people."
"Yes. They want to be as far away from you as possible." Sirella whispered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!"
They had reached the place they had discovered the day before. The hole was still there. Of course it was there, where else should it have gone? However, what was gone was the dust. As Paula and Sirella looked through the hole in the hull, the Protoss noticed the change almost immediately.
"The dust. It's gone."
"Really?" Paula mused. "Huh. I wonder how that happened. It's as if someone used magic and wished it away!"
"You are serious about this, aren't you?" Sirella sighed. "You really want to head down there."
"You still doubt me on this one? I brought us out here, didn't I?"
"And I really wish you hadn't. I'm an artist, not a historian or an archaeologist." the Protoss mumbled.
"You are an aspiring artist." Kerrigan corrected her friend. "Also, you do remember what my Dad told you about going out and finding things that inspire you?"
"I'm pretty sure that his suggestion didn't involve dark corridors filled with dust."
"There's no dust anymore." Paula declared. "I took care of that."
"Great. Now it's just a dark and scary wreckage." Sirella sighed again. "So much better."
"And haunted. Don't forget haunted." her friend informed her, which caused Sirella to groan.
"Paula, is there something you want to tell me?"
"Naaaaa. It's a surprise." Paula Kerrigan replied.
"Paula, I swear! If this is another "Trust me, I know what I'm doing!", then I'm so out of here and-" However, Sirella's ranting was cut short when someone else made his frustrations involving Paula audible.
"KERRIGAN!" the loud yell of Marshal Bowski echoed through the badlands.
"Whoa. I just had a déjá vu." Paula mumbled. "I swear I just heard the Marshal yelling my name. And he sounded angry."
"That's because he IS ANGRY!" Sirella screeched and pointed with her finger at the small figure that was approaching fast. The huge Protoss hid behind her much smaller friend as if Paula could act as some kind of shield that would protect Sirella from Bowski's wrath. When the Marshal had finally reached them, Paula just waved with her hand and smiled.
"Hey, Marshal. How's life? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"You know DAMN WELL what you can do for me!" Bowski shouted at her. The frustration was clearly visible on his face. "I don't care if you actually believe that you are a badass. I'm calling the shots out here. If I tell people to stay together, then I expect everyone to do as I tell them! That includes you two!"
"Just so you know, I didn't want to come out here. Paula is responsible for everything bad that happens in my life." Sirella declared. When Paula heard that, she looked over her shoulder an pulled a brow up.
"Thanks, Sirella. You are a true friend, having my back all the time and all of that." the young woman said with a dry tone in her voice.
"I don't care." Bowski hissed. "You two will go back to the base camp right now!"
"But-" Paula tried to reason with the Marshal.
"No buts!"
"Maybe we-"
"No maybes either!"
"All I'm asking-"
"I don't care!"
"Could you at least let me finish my-"
"No!"
There was a long and awkward moment of silence. Sirella was still hiding behind Paula. Paula was looking at Bowski with an empty look on her face while the Marshal was staring at her in bloody murder. And then...
"Call me crazy, but I think that you are angry. Do you want to talk about your feelings?" Paula asked, which only caused the Marshal to grab his head and scream profanities of the highest order. When he was finally done, he clenched his hands into fists and needed a moment in order to calm down.
"Has anyone ever told you that you are a frustrating woman?"
"Plenty of times. So, you want us to go back to the base? Why didn't you say so!" Paula just replied and turned around. She walked away and both Sirella and Bowski looked at each other in surprise.
"What?" the Marshal mumbled. "First she acts like a three-year-old and now she just listens to what I tell her?"
"Are you two coming?" Paula asked and looked over her shoulder. It was Sirella who started to move first. She followed her friend and Bowski sighed. Seriously, this was idiotic. Once they were back in the camp he would tell the Professor that Kerrigan was not an asset but a hindrance and they should send her back home. When the Marshal decided to follow them, he knew that this was the best course of action and-
"Hey, Marshal!" Paula suddenly yelled and he looked over to her.
"Huh? What is it?" he wanted to know.
"Watch the edge, it's slippery!" the young woman told him and he frowned when he heard that.
"What are you talking about? There is no-OHOHOHOHOOOOO!" Before he could even realize what was going on, Bowski slipped and stumbled backward. It was as if the ground beneath him was made out of ice. He tried to stay on his feet but it was pointless. At the same time, a strong gust of wind pushed his body back. Bowski had no idea what was going on. When he finally lost his balance, he fell backward.
Right into the hole they had made the other day.
"TO HEEEEEELLLLL!" the Marshal yelled when he dropped through the hole and into the derelict. You could hear a soft THUD! when his body hit something hard, and then a painful groan, followed by a long moment of silence.
"Oh, my..." Paula cooed and walked back toward the hole. She looked down and pulled her brows up. "...hmm, guess he should have been more careful. Everyone knows that ice can suddenly appear everywhere, even in hot deserts. Right, Sirella?"
"You are an evil person, Paula."
"Aw, charmer. Guess we should see if the Marshal is seriously injured, wouldn't you agree?"
"No?"
"Glad that you see it the same way I do, big girl." Paula chuckled, not even listening to what her friend was saying. "Well, it would be cruel not to check on him. It's our moral duty! As human beings!"
"I'm not a human, Paula."
"Details, details." the young woman replied and looked at her friend. "It's adventure time!" And then she jumped down the hole and followed the Marshal. Sirella stayed behind and thought about what to do next. And then...
"You know, I think I'm going back to the base-camp. Have fun down there, you two!" The Protoss then turned around and walked away. There was no way that she was climbing down there! They didn't pay her enough for this!
That's when Sirella suddenly realized...
...that no one was actually paying her anything for this.