Choi Eunha rarely felt uncomfortable with her job. Despite all of the casual and not so casual lies she told in this line of work, the National Intelligence Service employed her at work well worth doing. Having a decent cover story included as an excuse for her parents as to why she wasn't married yet would make it even better.
Eunha felt a little useless as she scrolled through all of her information for the third time. With Cheonha in the hospital, her workload shrunk considerably, but she couldn't simply sit there, so she reviewed the files for the other three suspected individuals again: Bethany Beverly, John Statkus, and Toby Collins. The latter two she scooted over to the right monitor so that she could see as much information simultaneously as possible. She then rubbed her eyes, wishing she hadn't eaten so much at lunch. On went the standing lamp behind her, and it illuminated her paper-messy but otherwise trinket-free desk. Eunha sorted through a few of her papers and put them on a plastic shelf screwed to the wall before she returned to the information on her monitors.
According to NIS records, both John Statkus and Bethany Beverly had appeared in Seoul to see Cheonha. Yet there was no record of applying for visas, staying in any hotels, or traveling by airplane. They were both Americans; sneaking into South Korea was difficult enough for North Koreans, much less foreigners from across the ocean.
Eunha sipped her hot cup of brown rice green tea, and pulled up Cheonha's internet activity on her second monitor once more. Eunha had expected at some point that Cheonha would say something that would provide NIS with a clue, but mostly she played Starcraft with her male friends, and learned english with Bethany and Toby. There was little in the way of outside talk. The only oddity Eunha found was Bethany's comment to Cheonha about wanting to eat Korean fried chicken and Isaac Toast - a strange comment to make, if Bethany had been in Seoul recently. She should have plenty of opportunity to eat her desired foods without needing to complain about it. But this could have been idle talk, so it wasn't conclusive.
Eunha leaned further over the keyboard, hoping somehow that Cheonha's conversations with Toby Collins would prove more enlightening. Cheonha hadn't spoken with him since a week before the attack, but there Eunha found an even stranger clue: Toby had been talking with her concerning her mother, whom Toby called sweet. He even mentioned something about singing with her.
So he too has been to Seoul... Eunha scratched her nose. I've already checked on him. He doesn't have any record of coming through customs either. When would he have met Lee Suha?
She considered briefly that Toby might have met her before she had come to Seoul. This too made no sense, as Toby was British. Surely records existed if a person traveled to Korea from the UK. The British government denied that Toby had been on an airplane for over two years, and only that he toured through France, Italy, and Spain - a vacation by train. Other than that, he had taken a boat to Ireland with family the summer before. There was no evidence before six months ago that he had ever had any interest in the Far East, much less Korea, aside from watching the same Japanese animes that most British boys liked.
As far as the other two were concerned, Statkus had travelled through the western United States, and his most distant plane record indicated New York City as the destination, though he had plenty of other computer-related local flights within the United States. Bethany had no travel records of any kind since 2011, a trip to China on some kind of english teaching volunteer job. That was as much as the American government had told the NIS. Eunha and her bosses all agreed against directly asking China for information.
A knock sounded at the door. Out from the dark hall peeped the soft brown eyes of Kim Sangmin, Eunha's immediate boss. She almost bit her lip to see him. He didn't have that soft, round look of a Kpop star, but his sharp jawline and perfect eyebrows would have made him a celebrity actor nonethless, had he any interest in that sort of thing. For the time being, Eunha hid any attempt of her rebellious face to blush by wiping her face from its exhaustion again.
"Please come in," Eunha said. She turned away from her double monitors to focus her full attention on her boss. "I hope you have some good news for me."
"I don't know that I do," Sangmin pulled up one of Eunha's chairs and sat. "But I do have more work for you. Before that, what can you tell me about Cheonha's three friends?"
"I've told you before about the lack of travel records for her friends," Eunha pulled her right monitor so that Sangmin could see. "One of the last things Cheonha told me was that a man named Charlie rescued her mother, and she claimed it happened only very recently. Not only do we not have any records of Lee Suha entering the country, but it also appears that all four in Cheonha's friend group were aware of this Charlie person."
"Why would they need to know the name of the agent rescuing Lee Suha?"
"I'm not sure, only it's clear that all three foreigners knew of him." Eunha pointed out a couple of screenshots of computer conversations. "Here is a chat between Toby, Bethany, and Cheonha, where they talk about Charlie inviting them all to some sort of cookout. Another conversation between Toby and John that we received from the Americans refers to this Charlie being in a bad mood. It's possible that while all of them know Charlie, none of them were told that he was an agent working to liberate North Koreans. I've copied everything I found about this Charlie person into one file, and I'm writing a summary report now."
"Good. I'd like to see that before the end of the day," Sangmin said. He pulled a couple of files and set them on the front of the desk. "Speaking of our American friends, it looks like they have had a conversation with Bethany and John. They sent us excerpts of their transcripts on interrogating them. I'm told that we will be soon receiving information from the British government later on, when they've finished questioning Toby. However, I don't think you're going to like what you read."
Sangmin stretched his hand over the files, and Eunha picked up the one on top to read. Her eyes ran over the first few lines, narrowing as they went along. She put down the first file and went for the other, and by the time she'd finished a cursory glance of the second, her face formed the perfect figure of disgust. Down went the second file on the table with a smack.
"Starcraft?" she exclaimed. "Is this some kind of joke? Do the Americans think esports are the only things that happen in Korea?"
"It's not a joke, or if it is, it's a joke from Cheonha's friends." Sangmin shuffled back in his chair. "NASA has spoken with us, and they confirmed the strange phenomena in Korea as not coming from the the surface of the planet. They also report that it has been happening in their own country as well."
"Do you think that's the truth? It wouldn't be unlike them to hide something from us."
"No," Sangmin agreed. "But from what I'm able to see, the Americans are just as confused as we are about this."
Eunha glanced at the files again. "I'm fluent in english. Did you want me to translate these?"
Sangmin shook his head. "I've already gotten others on that. I'm going to need you to continue your work specifically on Cheonha's case. In her normal life, you are the only friend she had. I'm going to need you to arrange the Lees' funeral."
Eunha sat up sharply. "I thought Cheonha was still alive. I knew she was in bad condition..."
"She is alive, but barely," Sangmin said. "However, the doctors report that she lost so much blood, her brain has been without oxygen for too long. Our machines can keep her technically alive, but she will not be able to return to consciousness on her own. There's a few more tests that the doctors are running, but by tonight they intend to disconnect her. They say there's basically no chance she'll ever wake up."
Sangmin's eyes transformed as he spoke, and though the bad news did filter through the softness of his lovely browns, Eunha knew she was being tested. NIS agents were not supposed to develop connections too deeply with contacts, and her reaction here would affect her career. Eunha drew in a deep breath.
"I hate this," she said. "All Cheonha ever wanted was to be happy. I don't believe she herself was ever a threat to our national safety. I just wish I had been faster in getting her to trust me. If we had been able to keep her safe..."
Sangmin lifted a hand. "You can stop that now. We allowed you to take this slowly because we believed it to be the best way to proceed. So this mistake was ours, not yours. As I was saying, I want you to arrange the funeral. It would make the most sense for you to take this role, and it's entirely possible that Cheonha's friends, including possibly this Charlie you speak of, would show up at the funeral. If we can capture them and question them ourselves, this is much better than depending on the FBI."
"I don't think Charlie will come," Eunha said. "Cheonha said something about him retiring to Ireland, and in the online discussions between the others, they all mentioned that he was leaving."
"I don't want to reach out to the Irish government without any sort of clue to who this 'Charlie' is or where specifically he might be going," Sangmin said. "Especially since we don't know what he looks like. However, I'll make sure that any outgoing foreigners in the near future are run through our system. Well, assuming that we can. If he brought Lee Suha here without record, he could depart just as easily."
Eunha nodded. "I'll get to work on it right away."
"No, you won't. Do as I say about her funeral, and afterwards I want you to take a week off. If we receive any new information from the West, I'm going to recall you, but other than that I want you to stay home and rest." Sangmin pointed to the computer. "Finish that summary report you said you were going to do and then go home. Don't worry about if it's the end of the day or not."
Eunha started. "But I can't simply leave-"
"Yes, you can. It's your orders." And even when giving those orders, Sangmin's sensitive face retained its beauty. "I've been watching over you for this entire assignment, and I know you've truly become friends with Cheonha. It's okay to be hurt over this."
"I'm perfectly capable of doing my job. I don't need to take time off."
"My bosses disagree," Sangmin said. "And I think they're correct. Besides, you haven't taken time off in months, and you might as well go now. I'll call you tonight when Cheonha is disconnected. We'll discuss the funeral plans later."
They wrapped up other matters, and after Sangmin left her office, Eunha typed up the report as ordered. She emailed it to her bosses by the office's intranet, then packed up for home. Her laptop didn't carry any confidential files, so away it came. Eunha almost went straight home from the office, but she happened to pass by a street market on the way home. She found a place to park and purchased some pears before slogging up the stairs to her apartment. Somehow she felt too restless to take the elevator.
*t*
Aldaris sat thoughtfully on the bridge of the Juniadros. There was little left for him to do. He had searched the minds of both John and Bethany, and Toby's own interrogation by the government of the United Kingdom had been delayed long enough for Aldaris to caution him about the sort of answers he gave his captors. Once the British man's interrogation finished, Aldaris would check this human's mind, and from there nothing would stand between him and the acidic vapors of Venus but mere distance.
His thoughts turned once more to Cheonha, though they had been dwelling on her for the past several orbits. The girl was essentially no more, as far as he could understand without knowing korean. He watched as closely as he could, hoping to spot some activity that would inform him of the doctors' plans. He adjusted the controls every so often, casually flicking a switch or sweeping his hand over a psychic input panel. Nothing seemed to be happening, so the work took very little effort.
That left him with time to think, to sit there in the dark bridge, watching as the lights of his control panel blinked according to their purpose. Khalai tradition required formal and dignified forms of burial. While humans' own ways tended to be more casual, Aldaris couldn't help projecting his own expectations on Suha's and Cheonha's funerals. He almost regretted having no say in it.
I have thus dealt with humans before, little as I care to remember.
Aldaris pulled open his little storage drawer again. Most of the rummage from before was still there. Bethany's little doll was back in the hands of the shiftless girl, and Aldaris shoved aside the Narnia book; he could return that to Toby after his interrogation. John's drawing of Zeratul still sat underneath various other things, and Aldaris ignored it - John hadn't told him what the drawing depicted, but nothing the humans did stayed a mystery for long to the psychic. Aldaris briefly lifted Cheonha's plastic shoe-flower, then set it gently to the side.
The Protoss reached past all of that. Near the back, one more human item lay crammed behind a collection of little Aiuran art pieces that earthlings might have called "postcards." Aldaris pulled back his hand, and in it appeared the little, delicate gold of a tiny human necklace. It glittered across his fingers, and in its middle the chain clawed into a small, faintly blue stone.
Starcraft was wrong about the khaydarins. They were not a specific stone, but a broad classification of minerals that reached all along the K Sector. While it was true all the best examples appeared on Aiur (and Shakurus, Aldaris grudgingly admitted), a variety of lesser stones appeared here and there on other planets, even Terran ones. So was the little blue stone in his hand, a minor legacy of the Xel'Naga, usurped for the purpose of merely looking pretty to a human. Minor khaydarins had little value to humans, and barely more for Protoss.
Thoughts of Aiur reached Aldaris, these ones bitter. In all the time he had in orbit above Earth, all too often he filled the hours with every memory, every moment worth writing down while the delusion he might actually go home persisted in his heart. So this was not the first time Jordon came to mind. Whether "Jordon" was the human's first or last name, Aldaris could not remember being told. Not the Juniadros, but other vessels had aided in the retreat of Raynor's Raiders in the Battle of Iconia Hill. Protoss too had fled to the hill, luring the Zerg inward to a better position for the slaughter. In the few tense hours before the battle, Aldaris, a fluent english speaker, had found himself in the company of the Raiders.
Jordon had been a tall, sort of pasty-looking man, though the shade from former service on the broiling Char deepened his skin tone with uneven patches where his marine faceplate opened. The soldier was young, even by human standards; though his eyes still smiled, war itself peeped out from them, just as foul language and bad grammar fell from his mouth. It was from this awkward source that Aldaris discovered the real reason Raynor and his followers found their way to the Protoss homeworld, obscured in the language of uncouth vernacular.
"Hell, ain't we been every ol' place in this got-danged sector? Every ol' place, and not a bit o' rock to rest on," Jordon said in his boyish voice. His fingers, thick in their armor, tugged at the necklace that hung from his neck. "Nah, pick a planet, and one of us 's been there and lost somebody there. Me? My girl Lanie, well...she don't wait for me no more. So, alls is left for me is to keep shootin' Zerg until I can't shoot no more."
Desperation. That was all it was, Aldaris saw. Even Raynor himself fought only for the small hope that he could do some good before his bitter life came to an end. Starcraft did show the truth about Raynor remaining behind on Aiur. This was not mere heroics, but the feeling that he would do more good by offering life to those he hoped could enjoy it more than he. Mutiny among the Raiders was unheard of, so all must have agreed.
As for Jordon, Aldaris never saw him again. Some time later, another Judicator (this one a companion of Tassadar), apparently used Jordon's necklace as a recall catch, with the obvious implication Jordon needed it no more. Aldaris had never recalled humans before coming to Earth, but he had recalled many others, and in the messy evacuations it did not surprise him that an item like this ended up on the Juniadros. A Protoss friend of Raynor's men had taken it, perhaps.
The gold was so soft and tiny that Aldaris pondered if he might accidentally break it by even just holding it. The blue of the stone, faint though it was, looked like the correct sort of lesser mineral, that might function in ways he had known. Even these lesser gol'delphim acted in ways similar to full khaydarins.
His eyes wandered back toward the screen. A doctor spoke his unintelligible words to another Korean, who responded in kind. Cheonha's mechanical life support would be disconnected later that evening, once they received a call from the South Korean government. From there, Cheonha's body would go the way of her mind.
Aldaris put the necklace back inside the drawer. These thoughts of mine are foolish. The girl shall soon be dead.
From there he pulled further out from the orbit. Not long ago one of the British-type humans had told another that they would let Toby "sweat it out" for half an hour before questioning him. Aldaris pulled out of his closer orbit to a further one, to reduce any possibility a satellite might catch him. Spying on Toby's interrogation warranted risk. Soaking in futile regrets did not.
*t*
Now that Eunha made it home, she could let out all the stress and fitful feelings she felt. Her jog and her shower, both finished, left her in a somewhat better mood than when she had left the office earlier in the day. Now wearing her most comfortable clothes, Eunha draped herself over her couch and turned on the TV. The images of some game show passed by her eyes without despositing any information therein. All Eunha wanted was the pleasant sounds of noisey people unconcerned with the life that she lived.
I could go to sleep now. Eunha thought. Though just my luck, this would be the night Mom decides to call.
For the moment, her cellphone kept its silent vigil on her wireless charging station, and Eunha kept hers on her plush cushions. Minutes passed, and Eunha felt all of her muscles relaxing. But through the sounds of contestants putting themselves through silly tasks for some prize or another, a little squeaky sound cut in. Eunha opened one eye. The little brown creature in his wire cage scrambled in his wheel, his little legs a blur beneath him.
Eunha stared at the fuzzy potato being. "Pappa, you're loud."
Of such things as human words the hamster took no notice. Pappa also took little notice when Eunha dragged her tired self off of the couch and headed his way. Not until she grabbed his water bottle did the creature finally pause and wiggle its whiskers in her direction.
"I forgot to fill your water bottle this morning." Eunha pulled the bottle from the wire holding it to the cage. "I'm sorry. You have a little left, but I'll get you some fresh water."
Eunha returned as promised, and when she put the bottle back, Pappa flicked his tiny tongue at the metal bead at the bottom. Eunha almost smiled. She poked a finger through the bars of the cage to poke at Pappa's fur. The pleasantly plump little beast indeed was a soft one.
"Pappa, I'll take care of you," Eunha said. "You don't have to be worried about anything."
If the creature worried, he certainly didn't show it. Pappa scooted over to the front corner of his cage next to his food dish, and started scrubbing his nose with his paws. Eunha glanced in. The hamster food, picked clean of all sunflower seeds, stood low in its plastic dish. Eunha opened a drawer in the little cabinet below the cage and pulled out the bag of food. When she unhooked the wire door of the cage, Pappa scuttled under his plastic igloo, but his nose poked out with excitement for what he knew was to come.
"Pappa, eat your other food too." Eunha scooped up some food into his dish. "You can't just eat the sunflower seeds because you like them the best. A variety of foods is more healthy."
Eunha put away the food and closed the door. Before she could watch Pappa eat himself silly, her cell phone cast robotic noises into the air behind her. Eunha solemnly got up; that was not the ringtone assigned to her mother. With dread, she went over and slid over the little green phone icon across the screen.
"Yobuseyho?" Eunha said, dread completely stripped from her now stony voice.
"Eunha," Sangmin said on the line, his voice even more stony than hers. "I just got off the phone with the doctors. Cheonha has been unplugged from the life support systems and interred in the morgue. In the morning you can begin with the funeral preparations."
"I understand."
"Are you sure you're going to be alright? If necessary, I can have others take on the funeral for you."
Eunha closed her eyes tightly. She was a professional, an agent, and fully in control of herself. Unhappy outcomes frequently came into her line of work, and this case did not differ. Eunha spoke with all the unearthly calm her job required.
"I'm fine, Sangmin," she said. "I'm hanging up now."
"Okay. Call me again tomorrow after you've spoken a funeral home."
"I understand."
Eunha put down her cell phone and went right back to the side of the hamster cage, where Pappa dug himself a little throne in his pile of food. Just as suspected, the little beast gnawed on a sunflower seed, leaving behind all the corn and grain. Eunha sat there and watched him for a little while. After a bit, she unlatched the door, reaching for him and petting his soft, velvety ears.
"I'm your omma now, Pappa," Eunha said. "I'll take good care of you."
Sunflower seeds occupied Pappa, and as if content with her announcement, Pappa sat still and let her pet. Eunha stared at his tiny, beady eyes, not thinking of him at all. A tear or two escaped the siege of her eyelids. She wiped them away, only for more to follow after. Eunha sat there watching the hamster the rest of the evening, trying to regain her composure so that none of the cracks in her facade would show the next day.
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Author's Notes New:
- If it seems if the Koreans in this chapter are starting sentences with "and" and "but" a lot, it's because that's normal for korean. I've always hated the english writing rule that says you can't, too. You might be a grammar nazi, but I'm a grammerican, and I'll start as many sentences with "and" and "but" as I please.
- Some Judicator did go with Tassadar on his expedition to the human worlds, and Khala 'Toss as well. It's normal for some other caste members to go with Templar on long term expeditions. Tassadar's expedition in particular had fewer of both, as his mission was not about taking human worlds, only destroying them. Thus need no Khalai to establish colonies or bases on the destroyed worlds. Likewise, it wasn't a political mission, so fewer Judicator. Both castes serve alternate roles, so there were a few Judicator for the purposes of observation (particularly of the human reaction to the situation) and engineering support. It should be noted that loyalty to Tassadar on his expedition was very strong, so both the Judicator and the Khalai involved more or less agreed with his choices.
- Whenever I call Starcraft "wrong," it's only to compensate for weak logic in the game (games rarely describe reality fully accurately - you know how it is with video game logic), or for my own personal convenience. I didn't like the first origin of the blue stone, so I went with a more logical one in this newly written chapter. Khaydarins are associated with the Xel'Naga, so any planet that has these rocks is one where the ancient scientists went.
I also consider SC2's Xel'Naga wrong, but that's because they suck.
