Author's Note
I am not in the habit of writing author's notes as I feel they might be disruptive to the flow of the text. That said, some people have shown their interest in my writing and I would be remiss in leaving their messages unanswered. What complicates matters further is that some of those reviews weren't made via registered accounts, making them more difficult to answer directly. To help cover this, and show my handful of readers that I appreciate their feedback, I set up my own little in-site forum so I can better communicate with people. You should find it at myforums/Manus-Dei/669165/
With that out of the way, let us continue.
Chapter 10 – Looking Forward
August 19, 2502, 08:00
Outskirts of New Talematros
Shakuras
Raziel stood upon a large rocky formation, gazing upon the planet that his hosts called home. After everything he had seen and heard in his existence – at least the parts he could remember – he couldn't help but marvel at how much there was still to experience, how many things his mind had not even been able to conceive. Though he had most definitely not forgotten the betrayal and indignities he had suffered, and his hatred of Kain had not dulled one bit since his arrival, he still found time to be amazed at everything he had discovered since his trip through space and time. The existence of intelligent life, both human and otherwise, in different forms, with vastly different technology and traditions. The fact that there were beings out there who shared at least some of his abilities, and despite some hurdles in understanding his nature had been more than willing to share their knowledge. The existence of creatures that disgusted him on a fundamental level, even more than vampires now that his mind was gripped by the prejudices of his previous life as a Sarafan general, even if he could not remember anything else of it other than the name and what he thought it meant.
He had seen the Zerg. He had fought them. He had killed them and consumed their souls, and though they had fallen by the scores to his blade and claws, they still disturbed him, both by their seemingly incessant numbers and by the way they were spreading, consuming entire worlds in a plague that dwarfed the vampire infestation of Nosgoth by several orders of magnitude. They spread, multiplied, slaughtering everything in their path and consuming it, sometimes even twisting other life forms to suit their purposes. The footage he had seen of infested humans had particularly disgusted him, as well as the putrid, festering organic mas they spread in their wake, blanketing the soil like an unholy blight. He couldn't help wondering if the worlds they had infested would somehow rot from the inside and begin their descent into physical collapse as his own world had.
His thoughts were interrupted by the slow, ponderous steps of a Protoss behind him. As Raziel turned around, the suit of armor he had received as a git from the Dark Templar shortly upon his arrival glistened slightly in the light. Though he had cared nothing for clothing since his transformation, he had to admit there was something comfortable and dignifying about the outfit, and he was grateful to his hosts for it.
The Protoss who greeted him appeared old by their standards, though Raziel still had a difficult time recognizing certain details of their physiology. It was already intriguing for him how naturally born beings could live up to a thousand years and still retain most of their faculties intact. From the newcomer's outfit, Raziel recognized he was wearing the old garb of the Khalai of Aiur, a relic now that Artanis was striving to do away with the caste system in a bid to solidify the reunification of his people. The Protoss carried himself with an air of graceful dignity, even aided by a walking stick. What struck Raziel the most though was the intensity of the bright blue eyes staring at him from a face with a white, weathered skin, looking almost like old bone. The Protoss nodded in greeting, regarding the wraith as simply an equal. Raziel was grateful that there were creatures in the cosmos he could develop a rapport with, who treated him so normally instead of showing the awe and superstitious terror that many humans in Nosgoth had.
"Greetings Raziel." He heard the Protoss speak straight to his mind. "I would call you young, but from my understanding you are likely far older than any living Protoss... and possibly beyond that. It is I… Patmos. You have encountered me before, but that was but one of the many guises I wear. For centuries I have watched my people. Watched, recorded, pondered and gazed ahead. I witnessed the Aeon of Strife, the deeds of Adun, the spread of my people into the stars, their accomplishments, their terrible mistakes, the fall of Aiur... and more. I would have words with you, wanderer from another sea of stars."
Raziel quirked an eyebrow. He had been given access to the archives and a somewhat abridged overview of Protoss history, and he knew that all those events would have been beyond the lifespan of even a being as long lived as a Protoss. A cursory glance upon the newcomer showed nothing too outwardly unusual, but with his senses he could feel the soul inside, and to him it felt old, heavy, perhaps even weary. The presence, he recognized from the previous encounter, but the demeanor seemed quite different. He wondered if the Protoss had used some sort of psionic influence to alter his perception during their previous encounter, especially considering the demonstration of the practical uses of illusions at the time.
"How is that possible?" Raziel inquired. "From what I understand, the last living Protoss to even personally remember the time of Adun was the Matriarch Raszagal, and she is no longer with us. You speak of events that took place even before that."
"It seems we are both burdened with an unusually long existence, my friend." Patmos replied with what would have sounded like a weary sigh were he human. "It is rare for me to be able to converse with another being so long lived, and though you lost the memories of your previous life... and possibly even more... I still relish this opportunity. Truth be told, I am still not entirely certain of how I have endured for so long, though I have made an effort not to draw excessive attention to myself. But now, I feel that I must speak. Not of the past, but of the present... and the future."
"The future?" Raziel asked, getting a bad feeling about his words.
"Yes, Raziel. I understand that you have been used in the past. Manipulated as a pawn in a game of fate that you cannot even fully perceive. That is why I will be completely honest with you, even though my vision is not entirely clear at times."
Raziel frowned. Any talk of destiny, especially involving his own, was probably going to result in some aggravation. After Ariel's speeches and Kain's infuriatingly cryptic remarks, he was seriously beginning to feel that he was being toyed with. Still, he had no reason to mistrust the aging Protoss, whose people had so readily taken him in.
"I will try to be brief, as we do not have much time. Things may seem relatively calm now as my brethren attempt to rebuild after the loss of Aiur and muster the forces to eventually retake it, but I have seen the past and the future, and dire tidings are ahead. I believe that your coming was no accident, but rather engineered by some outside force, though for what purpose I cannot say."
"I am listening... for now." Raziel replied.
"By now, you must have heard of the Xel'Naga and how they intervened in our development as a species. You must have also heard that the Zerg as the are now were the result of more of their experiments after they deemed our people a failure. What you probably have not heard much of is the reason why we were divided for all those bitter centuries, and the reason why even now there are some lingering tensions between the refugees from Aiur and the Dark Templar."
"I was told that there was a rift between them. That the Dark Templar rejected the Khala and learned to harness the Void in order to hide themselves and survive."
"Yes... Though they would have been exterminated had it not been for the mercy of Adun, who instead allowed them to flee. Not many know the exact details of those events, only that Adun is revered by both branches of the Protoss for different reasons. But tell me, what do you, as an outsider to our society, think of the Khala?"
"I would not wish to have my mind permanently tethered to everyone else's." Raziel admitted frankly. "Without the ability to think for oneself, what would we be but puppets or an insect colony?"
"An astute observation. That was one of the reasons why the rift formed, back when Khas first spread the word. Back then our people were divided between warring tribes, and the Khala finally brought unity. But there was another reason. As you may have noticed, our people are gifted in the power of Psionics. Our bodies and minds generate tremendously potent energies that can cause terrible devastation if not properly controlled. In some ways, the Khala is a stabilizing influence that can help with that control, but just as it enables us to do certain things, it can also be a weakness."
"You speak of conformity. Of stagnation. The individual crushed under the weight of the collective. The death of creativity, of divergent thought, if taken to its logical extreme."
"Yes... and worse. By now, you know the Zerg were altered so as to both aggressively assimilate any species they encounter and obey the will of a central figure. The Overmind's rampage across the stars put an end to the Xel'Naga and to countless civilizations. Can you imagine what might happen if someone were to take control of the Protoss in such a manner?"
"Are we speaking in merely speculative terms, or is there something you are not telling me?"
"My ability to pierce the veil that shrouds the future is limited, Raziel... but I can sense something unsettling. A dark presence whose name I cannot fathom. An empty hunger that may in time make itself known. I have examined historical records from as many civilizations as I could gather. There is something there that suggests a pattern, but it is still too soon to be certain. All I know is that I have reason to believe that something is amiss. Something does not make sense."
"What do you mean?"
"Patterns of conflict... of discord, echoing through the tapestry of creation. My abilities allow me to capture small glimpses, but unfortunately my sight is not as precise as I would like... and even then, the things I have seen will haunt my nightmares to my dying day."
"And what is it that you have seen?"
"I have seen that the Xel'Naga were searching for something as they wandered the stars and tampered with evolution and civilization. I have seen glimpses of dark tendrils reaching out from the deepest, darkest void, infecting sapient minds for some unknown purpose. At this point I do not know if the Overmind turned on the Xel'Naga of his own volition. I have seen worlds burn, reality unravel. And at the center of it all were several figures whose faces I could not see. A regal being of light, darting through the cosmos in search of the unknown, only to be ensnared by an unseen hand. Another casting off its wings, willingly falling from the heavens. A man, meant for greatness, but cheated of his destiny by the machinations of another. Another torn between the pain of loss and betrayal and the need to set things right. A pious sage, struggling to save his people and a world that fears and hates him only to be struck down. A brave maiden, thrown to the beasts and transformed into a devil."
"That is quite a random mishmash." Raziel quipped, quirking an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you come upon those visions?"
"I do not come upon them. They come upon me. For many centuries I have tried to record and make sense of what I see. However, for all the visions, I was unable to do anything to prevent my people from reaching this sorry state. I have no control over what I am shown, but I want to believe that this was all not just the cruel delusions of one who has lived much longer than he had any right to."
"And why are you telling me all this if your own people will not listen?"
"Because those sights are not all I experienced. I also heard words that struck a chord once I first laid eyes upon you. Muttered endlessly by a hushed voice, like a strange prayer. 'Brethren from another sea of stars, similar yet not, cast down and twice touched by the grave. The mark of an outsider tribe he bears, the last vestige of a bitter past, sworn to vengeance and tied by the threads of a twisted fate. From burning sands he shall come, with tattered wings and fiery blade, to challenge false gods with the fire of the stars. The impostors in the deep will fear the sting of his wrath.'"
Raziel paused for a moment to digest those words. The tattered wings and the mark of an outsider tribe were painfully obvious, as was the fiery blade. The burning sands where he had first emerged were still etched upon his memory, and some of the other details could accurately describe his existence. The parts about impostors in the deep and false gods caught his attention the most, however, since they reminded him of a rather irritating voice he was relieved to be rid of since chasing Kain into the Chronoplasm chamber.
"Just how long ago did you hear those words?" He asked guardedly.
"Sometime near the end of the Aeon of Strife, when there was a lull in the constant fighting due to Khas spreading his teachings across most of the tribes. At the time I thought they might be related to some upheaval in the near future, but such did not come to pass. There were times when I thought myself insane and others when I powerlessly watched my people make ruinous choices. I do not know what kind of world you came from, but the things I see and hear inevitably come to pass, though not always in the exact way I interpret them."
"And is this sort of thing something your people regularly experience?"
"On the contrary. There were handfuls across the centuries, but most went mad or took their own lives in despair due to the things they saw."
"There was one in my world who claimed to know all, past, present and future, but he was a charlatan at best and a manipulator at worst. He was obsessed with fate… and enjoyed his machinations."
"I suppose it is tempting..." Patmos mused. "To believe that everything is set and stone and that all things merely follow along a predetermined path. Some would find that such a belief absolves them of personal responsibility, or that whatever they do was meant to be. There is a twisted conviction of sorts to be found in blind fatalism… or it is simply an anesthetic to the pains of existence. But therein lies a great danger. To surrender to a fixed fate is to surrender free will, logic and personal agency."
Raziel pondered the sage's words, so different from Kain's speech about fate and predestination. His very existence seemed to be a screaming defiance of Kain's belief, and yet his former master had almost seemed pleased about it and the relentless pursuit he had carried out since emerging from the abyss. He did not know if he could ever truly fathom Kain's motives, but his mind was racked with unanswered questions.
"What do you think then, of those who like you can see the future? What of the accuracy of visions and such?" he finally asked.
"Few things if any are truly immutable, Raziel. Even visions are never certain, and always vague and subject to interpretation. One may be able to glimpse into a moment, but the paths leading to and from it are never clear. There may be those who try to deceive you with words about fate, but there is always room for change, for deviation. Simply ponder your very presence here at this moment."
He paused for a moment, studying Raziel's reaction. Even through the cowl that was never far from his face or the twisted form he was now trapped in, the elder Protoss saw that he had struck a chord. Without losing impetus, he continued.
"You stand at a different world, in a different sea of stars, without apparent logical reason or explanation. Whether by accident or design, some will always subvert expectations and defy the path set for them. I do not know who exactly set you on your path, or what unseen strings they tug to make you follow it, but from what I have seen before, and from what I sense even now, I know that defiance is part of your nature, and that defiance can throw even the most careful plans into disarray. It is entirely possible that you were brought here in order to remove you from the scene… or that someone's plans are being subverted by someone else. Regardless of the details, I know this. The deviation from your path may yet allow you to emerge better equipped for what lies ahead."
"And what exactly lies ahead?" Raziel asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"The details may be elusive, but I know that what you have faced so far will seem small compared to the tribulations ahead." Patmos replied, straightening up and gazing straight at him, eye to eye. "You will learn much, about yourself and your world, and you will not like many of the answers you find. I know that you will be forced to make several difficult choices and face some harsh truths. In the end, I do not know where your path ultimately leads, but only that you will struggle… suffer… and perhaps find a measure of peace in an unexpected way."
"Could you possibly be more cryptic?" the wraith quipped sarcastically.
"The visions show what lies ahead, not what one wishes to see. They are taxing, draining… and often crushing. I hope you will be able to keep your spirited nature before all is said and done. But for now, I must rest..."
The Protoss leaned on his staff, suddenly looking very old and tired in the wraith's eyes. Whatever his visions showed him, Raziel mused to himself, was not worth the price. He was beginning to understand why Patmos looked so jittery and spent, though not how he had been able to live for so long, carrying such a burden, no less. By his estimates, Patmos was likely older than any Protoss he had head of… if his account was true.
August 19, 2502, 16:20
Imperial Library of Augustgrad
Korhal IV
Augustgrad's Imperial Library… filled, in Kain's eyes at least, with dull holodiscs of trite accounts by pompous historians, about matters that couldn't possibly be of interest to anyone but themselves. Still he paced the hallways, lavishly decorated with everything from the latest digital format to dusty old books dating back to the days of the first colonies.
He sneered internally at Mengsk's attempts at playing monarch despite the fact that most of the first colonists were either mutants, cyborgs, criminals or other degenerates, who would have been stoned to death on sight if they had ever wandered too close to the cities Kain remembered from both his lives.
He sighed, tolerating the human's self-importance only as long as it allowed him to pursue his own goals. To Kain, the self-professed Emperor was a fool, but a useful fool. Completely out of his element, surrounded by history and technology so different from everything he knew, he had chosen to seek out a powerful ally in order to find his bearings. In that regard, things had turned out as expected. Kain had a steady supply of blood, though he did not wish to bother thinking where it had come from, and a base of operations.
The missions he was sent out on, while not exactly challenging, provided a good opportunity to explore different worlds and test himself against the Zerg, which he had noted as a potential threat he might have to do something about lest the somehow end up interfering in his plans. However, Kain was keenly aware that even so far from Nosgoth, things were rarely what they seemed. Mengsk had not always been Emperor, and for a man like that to go from wanted extremist outlaw to ruling over most of the sector had taken no small amount of deceit and manipulation. Kain was careful never to disclose anything that might be used against him, but he knew that there were still things afoot that he was not supposed to know about. He was particularly irked at how the Segment's chief researcher – that greasy, obsequious worm by the name of Exaccus – had been secretly meeting with Mengsk behind his back despite ostensibly being under Kain's direct command.
While he admitted that his own arrogance had sometimes worked against him, Kain was shrewd enough to notice when something was amiss. He would not let his guard down simply because of the man's frail appearance. He also disliked that so-called Senator Kinsey and his meddling ways. He had no use for self-serving, spineless bureaucrats, and he had never needed them when running his own empire.
Though he would never admit it, the fire that raged inside Raziel, even in his previous lives, had always been something he respected and appreciated, and his decision to cast him into the abyss had not been made lightly or in the fit of rage he had displayed. Everything had been calculated to serve his hidden agenda, but even a hardened, sarcastic, callous bastard like Kain was not entirely devoid of emotion. He might have even felt a shred of remorse in his shriveled heart if he dwelled on those thoughts for too long.
Instead, Kain focused on making his own plans, in a place where silence was expected and strictly enforced. First and foremost, he focused on gathering knowledge, intent on knowing his new surroundings as well as the old.
The hours flew by as he pursued this task with the same single-minded abandon he had accomplished everything else since his murder and dark rebirth, until, just a few moments before the dawn, he left the vast, gaudily ornamented building. Not wanting to deal with needless alarm and inquiry, he refrained from using his supernatural abilities – which might have otherwise made his journey much swifter – and headed to the transport waiting outside, one of the perks of his new position.
Without looking at the uniformed driver, he took his place in the luxurious hovercar's back seat and uttered three words.
"Starport. Hangar Nine."
The man wasn't quite able to explain why this guest's presence unsettled him so deeply, but, hiding it as well as he could, he swiftly made his way through the traffic, eager to be somewhere else.
While a larger ship might have been more appropriate, taking a battlecruiser all the way to the surface would have drawn unwanted attention. Kain had instead elected to leave the oversized and ludicrously designed vessel in orbit and descend in a two seat Wraith with a young pilot he had personally handpicked. He found the accent of the locals and their general propensity for loudness most aggravating, and had reasoned that the longer anyone's service record the more likely they were either already in Mengsk's pocket or former Confederates desperate to prove their loyalty. Therefore he had selected a cadet fresh off the Fleet Academy, a quiet young woman with a natural talent for piloting ships of any size and a professional approach to her work that meant she would be unlikely to start dabbling in backroom politics.
The trip back to his flagship and then to the Segment's base was quick and uneventful, and not being required to participate in the operation of the vessel, he spent the second part of the journey locked in his quarters, the cogs in his mind already turning.
One of the chief duties he oversaw, as part of his agreement with Mengsk, was the development and testing of weapons against the Zerg. Though Mengsk had been openly disdainful of the creatures, Kain was certain that there was more to the story. This was not the look of a man trying to simply exterminate an infestation, but rather someone on the run from a long delayed reckoning. The vampire had probed as deeply as he was able in the Dominion's datanet without having to access classified records that might have drawn attention, but the picture was still incomplete. He had a lingering feeling that in order to learn more, he would need to confront the creatures again.
The way they spread from world to world, assimilating local life forms as they went, was not entirely unlike some of the degenerate mutations his lieutenants had developed over the years. Moreover, their aggressive biology, ability to adapt and seemingly supernatural coordination were beginning to greatly concern Kain. If there was even the slightest possibility that the creatures might spread to his homeworld, he would have to take action lest they ruin his plans.
