Chapter 14 – Tangents and Parallels
August 26, 2502, 12:00
Second Moon of Shakuras
Considerably refreshed after a semi-forced vacation, Raynor was ready to get back to the fight. However, he knew he would need to revise his strategy. The Dominion was still gaining strength and he needed to find or create new opportunities.
A black Terran dropship flew into view, bearing no visible insignia. After a careful landing, the boarding ramp extended and a figure, clad in a black Ghost suit with signs of heavy modification stepped out. The suit had been reinforced with armor plating in all the important areas as well as a pair of thick gauntlets, not to the point of making it as bulky as marine power armor but still noticeable. Instead of the standard light helmet with goggles, its wearer was clad in a black helmet with a polarized yellow visor. Raynor couldn't help wondering how all those alterations would interfere with its stealth capabilities, though he also had to admit he liked the design.
The figure stopped and raised a hand in greeting before removing the helmet, revealing, much to Raynor's surprise, a younger man somewhere in his twenties, clean shaven, with expressive deep blue eyes, dark hair trimmed in an exceedingly short crewcut and a soft if somewhat pale face, which almost clashed with the menacing appearance of the armor. Most of the representatives of this particular faction he had encountered to date looked like unwashed pirates or wannabe witch doctors in customized Ghost suits decorated with strange, almost tribal paintings.
"You one of Tosh's boys?" Raynor asked, trying to hide his surprise. "What did he call 'em? Specters?"
"Yes sir." the man said, before saluting.
"Well now… I definitely wasn't expectin' this." Raynor said. "If not for the outfit, I might have mistaken you for one of those Dominion officers from rich families. In fact, there's somethin' about you that reminds me of Matt Horner. Are you two related or somethin'?"
"Not to my knowledge, sir." the man replied. "But fighting a war is no excuse not to be presentable, especially when potential allies tend to judge based on first appearances. Looking like a savage also tends to make it more difficult to interact with civilians and respectable folk."
"I suppose you got a point." Raynor conceded. "But I hope you didn't go to the barber just for this. Anyway, you got a name son?"
"Shepard, sir."
"Well, you can drop the formalities around me. I had enough of that shit in my Marshal days."
"Noted." Shepard said with a smile. "Let me just say that regardless of the outcome of this meeting, I'm somewhat of a fan of your work. I'm looking forward to seeing you in action in person."
"You may get the chance sooner than you think, if the intel Tosh said you have is solid."
"It is. I acquired it myself." Shepard said, looking rather pleased with himself.
"Well then. Here we are. I'm all ears."
Two hours later…
"Yes..." Raynor said as he looked at the files through the screen of a small wrist mounted computer on the Specter's left gauntlet. "We can definitely make some noise with this."
It was then that Shepard glanced around nervously as if sensing something and then tensed up.
"Expecting company today?" he asked.
"Not really." Raynor said, noticing his shift in posture and instinctively reaching for his rifle in response.
"Am I interrupting?" Raziel intervened, slipping out of the shadows and nearly startling the young Specter. To his credit, he quickly steadied himself, though he did not take his eyes off the wraith.
"Right." Shepard reminded himself. "Protoss. Ironic how the one human who ended up befriending their high representatives is hunted like a fugitive."
"Not quite Protoss." Raziel said. "But close enough."
The wraith then turned to Raynor.
"I hope this is not an inopportune time, but I was hoping to consult you on a... personal matter."
"Okay..." Raynor said, somewhat surprised.
"Would you happen to be acquainted with anyone versed in… Terran archaeology?"
"Funny that you'd mention that." Raynor said, clearly caught off guard by the question. "While most humans in these parts who dabble in the stuff are stuck up professors on the fancier worlds or weirdos who wander the sector on their own, there's someone in Shakuras who may be able to help ya out."
"Oh?"
"Have ya been to that fancy library of theirs in New Talematros? The really big one?"
"As a matter of fact, I have."
"Good." Raynor said with a nod. "Personally I just don't have the time to drop by, but there's someone there ya should speak with. Just… don't get freaked out."
"You mean there is a human residing in Shakuras?" Raziel asked.
"Not exactly… but you'll have a hard time finding a bigger fan of our culture and history."
August 26, 2502, 16:30
Unified Templar Archives
Shakuras
After some searching and a few stops to ask for directions, Raziel came upon a large chamber in the back of the building. The walls were lined with an assortment of items, made of different materials and in varying styles, but they all had one trait in common – all of them had been made by Terrans. From hunting trophies to oil paintings to TV screens and even some colonial banners, everything there had been made or altered in some way by human craftsmanship. In fact, he even recognized a large device standing on the floor, about as tall as his shoulder, ornamented with rather gaudy flashing lights and with a front panel lined with buttons. He recalled seeing one such device in the Hyperion, though at the time it had been switched off with signs of damage after one of the crew members had downed one too many bottles. Intrigued, he edged closed and prodded the front panel, until one of his claws touched a button and an unusual song started playing from it.
Raziel then heard something shuffling nearby, and a young Protoss, clad in white robes of a simple, functional design stepped out from behind a pile of items she was still apparently in the process of sorting out. While he had initially had some difficulty telling male and female Protoss apart – especially considering how few females he had seen in Shakuras – he was slowly and steadily becoming more familiar with the psionic aliens.
"I take it you are the one they call Athame?" he asked, trying to stay polite despite his surprise.
"That nickname will haunt me to the end of my days..." she said, sounding young and somewhat annoyed. Raziel couldn't help notice that by Protoss standards her skin looked unusually bluish for some reason, moreso than any member of the species he had met before.
"So what should I call you then?" he asked with a shrug.
"Well… this is interesting." she said, staring at him intently, seemingly forgetting about the unintentional slight as she turned her attention to him. "I take it that you are the guest I have heard about. I did not expect to meet someone else with this genetic quirk, even from another species."
"Yes, I am Raziel." he said guardedly, pondering just how much information he should share with the strange Protoss.
"A heavy name..." she said, giving him a strange look. "Are you aware of the significance the Terrans ascribe to it?"
"Not really." Raziel said, unsure what to think. "But regardless, I do believe we have something else of import to discuss."
"Do tell." she said, crossing the distance. "Pardon the mess. I do tend to get carried away when sorting my collection."
Raziel looked around the room one more time. He was definitely not expecting this.
"Raynor did not mince words when he mentioned your interest in Terran culture."
"I find it fascinating, yes. In the heyday of the Protoss Empire, our people journeyed across thousands of worlds, observing intelligent life and often guiding it… until the Kalathi Intercession put an end to that and the Aeon of Strife resulted in all our colonies being abandoned. In all those worlds, few species were as intriguing as the Terrans. I have had some very enlightening discussions with the Commander, seeing how his actions are shaping the future of the species."
Raziel pondered her words, somewhat taken aback by the object of her fascination and the very human glee he saw in her eyes. While most Protoss he had met were calm and composed or aloof and somewhat arrogant, it seemed to him that the object of her studies had left its mark on her… or perhaps she had simply gravitated towards it due to her own personality traits. Setting such notions aside, he decided not to mention the fact that he had once been human, even if from an entirely different sea of stars. The glee with which discussed her subject of interest made him strongly suspect that he would be opening himself to a barrage of questions if he let his guard down.
"For such a short-lived species, at least compared to ours, they tend to accomplish so much in their lifetimes. They are driven by a passion that rivals that of our greatest warriors and scholars at times, even as they grapple with a certain tendency for self-destruction. Their resilience is also a trait we have in common, sorely needed in these strange times."
Already getting winded, clearly excited to be able to speak to someone new regarding the subject, she continued.
"Even today we hear tales of their homeworld, Earth. Even out here, diminished as they are in some areas, you still find an incredible diversity of cultures and creeds. Until very recently the Protoss clung to their tribes, but Terran divisions are far more numerous and complex. The Terrans themselves are incredibly numerous when compared to other sentient species. Even taking into account the massive losses suffered by the Protoss in the last decade alone, the discrepancy is still baffling."
She clearly enjoyed speaking about this subject, though Raziel was beginning to worry she might lose herself in it… and dragging him into it, which would likely result in running out of time before the next scheduled operation. Seizing an opening, he produced a data crystal from the folds of his tunic.
"I think you may want to take a look at this." he said, presenting the crystal to her.
Intrigued, she took it and slotted it into a nearby computer console, producing a very detailed holographic projection of the statue, in full color.
"Fascinating..." the scholar said, her demeanor slowly shifting from that of a shy librarian to one much akin to a child in the presence of sweets. She adjusted the projection, examining every tiniest detail for a few moments, before turning to face Raziel again.
"You were right to bring this to me." she finally said. "This strongly resembles some elements found in Terran mythology. However..."
She then let out a sigh and her enthusiasm seemed to die down somewhat.
"I fear this is beyond my expertise… and that of anyone else in this sector."
"What do you mean?"
"I am not certain if you are aware of it, but the Terrans you see here are only a fraction of the entire species. Not only that, but they are the descendants of exiles, outcasts, expelled from their homeworld centuries ago. At the time, mutants, the cybernetically augmented, those with psionic potential… they were all considered undesirables, slated for extermination. Instead, a particularly wealthy Terran somehow obtained their custody… and used them as test subjects in a project to colonize other worlds. And so, they were hurled across the stars, slumbering in massive ships. Only a fraction of them survived. The ones who emerged found themselves stranded thousands of light-years from all they had ever known. Cut off from their original culture and history."
"So you mean…"
"Their arrival on this sector was relatively recent. They have only been here for a few centuries, a span of time shorter than the life of any given Protoss. This item, however, despite its appearance, is much, much older. The implications are baffling, to say the least. A possible earlier Terran presence? If so, how did they get here and where did they come from? Parallel evolution from a local species? If so, which and what became of it?"
"Are you absolutely certain of this?"
"I cannot give a more precise dating without physically examining the object with my equipment, but this appears to be several thousands of years old. It may even predate the Terran Christ… a figure that supposedly lived over two millennia ago and whose coming set the beginning of the calendar by which they still count the years."
"So, an analog to Khas, then?"
"In a way… though from what I understand there were others similar to him throughout history. The main difference from Khas is that no two Terran groups seem to agree on who or what exactly he was… or what exactly he believed in… or whether he existed at all."
"Really?" Raziel asked, rather baffled.
"Some say he was of divine heritage, others say he was simply a man ahead of his time. Some say he was a pacifist who taught through metaphors, while others say he rode around on some sort of... giant reptilian creatures wielding a primitive version of an assault rifle. Some say he was an enlightened philosopher, others say he struck down his foes with… lightning… from his posterior."
"They ascribe such importance to a figure… yet cannot agree on anything about said figure?"
"I believe that is only one more facet of the main issue of being cut off from their culture of origin. The supercomputer controlling those colony ships… ATLAS, I believe, may have some records, but it was jealously guarded by those who emerged from the ship that housed it. While we do not have an accurate assessment of its true abilities, we know the information contained within and its processing power definitely gave that faction an advantage over the others."
"Or perhaps it is simply… human nature to disagree on everything." Raziel remarked rather pointedly.
"Yes… or that." the scholar conceded with a hint of amusement. "Not so different from us, are they?"
She then adjusted the image, focusing it on the base of the statue.
"Then there is also this. Do you see the engraving? It bears some similarities to some Terran languages I have studied, but..."
"Are you able to read it?"
"I am afraid it is too badly damaged. However… I may be able to reconstitute it if I am able to find more samples of these characters. As I said, they bear a striking resemblance to some Terran languages..."
"If I happen to stumble across more of these objects, I will let you know."
Before leaving, there was one bit of idle curiosity he couldn't help indulging.
"How did you get to know Raynor anyway?" he asked.
"I was there when the refugees from Aiur escaped through the warp gate. I heard their tales of the Terrans who fought alongside Tassadar without caring about species, tribe or creed. Of their leader and his strength of character. Eventually I had the opportunity to interview him in person and assist him with a… pet project."
"Pet project?"
"The Commander has been living a life full of tribulations, since long before he found himself in his current situation." the scholar said with a sigh. "Lesser beings would have been broken by what he has already endured. In trying to make sense of all that has happened to him, he developed a certain curiosity regarding his own origins. At first, he was interested in determining whether he still had living relatives in the sector. Eventually, his interest expanded to reach his ancestry and family history."
"I… had not expected that." Raziel admitted.
"While he may not be an erudite by most standards, he has considerable natural talent and experience." the scholar remarked. "I can only imagine what his life would have been like, had it followed a different path."
She then turned to the computer console again.
"As for me, I am attempting to compile an accurate account of the combined Terran history, going as far back as possible. Unfortunately, governments such as the Dominion and the Confederacy before it tend to alter historical records to suit their purposes… and in order to reach beyond a certain point, I would need to either travel to Earth or find someone from there. Given the interactions we had with the Directorate in recent years, that would be unlikely."
Having had his entire clan wiped out and all bonds of kinship severed, the wraith couldn't help sympathizing. The fact that Raynor and the Protoss treated him like a person despite his oddities instead of fleeing in terror, trying to strike him down or kneeling in reverence also helped him feel a small degree of humanity he could barely recall ever possessing. Two thousand years, it seemed, had robbed him of more than his appearance and wings, and he found it amusing to be regaining a portion of that on an alien world so far away form everything he had ever known.
