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StarCraft: Stewardship

Chapter 2: Submission

It briefly occurred to Runs Quite Quickly that if the gods were trying to end his life, he should perhaps just oblige and let the green light from their spears hit him.

It was a thought that entered his mind only for a second as he ran across the solid cloud of the forest that lay to the north of their village. Above the trees, the daggers of the gods zipped to and fro, casting their green light upon the solid cloud. The cloud itself would erupt in puffs. Trees fell down, or were vaporized, blasting apart in a hail of wood. Kerogawi flew through the air, letting out songs of terror, so different from their usual melodies. Here and there, he saw a sanger's body, and so far, even one mighty mashariki. They were not fast, but they were strong, and few of the people tried to hunt them. But they were nothing when compared to the gods, and if a mashariki could not stand against them, what could he possibly do? Throws had hit one of the flying daggers, done nothing, and died seconds later. Soon, Runs reflected, he might be dead as well. He was running, and the gods kept missing. But they would only have to hit him once. More green lightning came, but he stretched out his right arm, grabbing hold of a tree branch. He swang through the air, as a jivaros might. Without pausing, he jumped to another branch, and another one after that. He was moving slower than he would over the solid cloud, but perhaps up here in the branches, the gods would have a harder time seeing him and-

They hit him.

Not quite, he realized, but he let out a shriek as the tree in front of him was obliterated. The green lightning did not touch him, but the bark that flew into his stomach…that did hit him. Hard. He placed a hand to his stomach, feeling the sticky, green substance that was his blood wash out into his fur. He felt faint. He wobbled. He fell. His body landed in the solid cloud with a 'clump.' He lay there, the solid cloud becoming green, like the grass to the south. He might die, he thought.

Perhaps he was meant to. The gods sought to kill him. It was not the first time he had entertained that thought, but now, feeling his life slip away, the thought not only returned, but remained. He watched the flying dagger in the sky, its black, featureless blade cutting off the light of the golden light in the hovering ocean. A shadow was cast upon the solid cloud, as well as himself. The gods saw all. The gods could do anything. And yet…

And yet he felt the wood that had entered his stomach. If they were gods…why like this? Why had they taken so long to kill him? As he watched the flying dagger turn in the air, and fly south, a stream of smoke emitting from its hilt, he reflected on All Must End. The god of death took members of the people at will. It had taken his mother by the furless plague – when she had been laid to rest in the solid cloud, her body had no fur left on it. She had been left as bare as a kerogawi egg, and just as fragile. His father had been killed in a skirmish with a tribe of non-people, and had likewise entered the Emptiness. The people and the non-people killed through crude means, but the gods could strike down the people at will. So why like this? Had they been toying with him? Some gods, like Giver of Life and Kindler of Flame, were known to be capricious, while Raise the Glow and Rise the Light were stalwart. Raise had been their saviour from the beings of the Emptiness. Could it…His fur stood on end. Were these even gods, or were they from the Emptiness? They who were never to return? He closed one of his eyes. Too many questions. He was dead. Throws was dead, Soft was likely dead, and Fair as Flower…she was likely dead as well. Even if she survived, the people would not find him here. Not before the solid cloud covered his body. His first eye remained closed, and soon, his second joined it. Over soon, he reflected. Over soon…as the third eye closed, the first life would end, and he would enter the Emptiness, and-

No!

He pulled out the wood from his stomach, letting out a small screech, much to his embarrassment. He was a hunter of the people. The people did not make the sounds of lesser beasts, who chittered away, or snarled like the sanger, or roared like the mashariki. But, he would live with himself. He would live, period. The gods, or beasts, or whatever they were…they had failed to kill him. Failed, or for whatever reason, chosen to leave him alive. He staggered to his feet, extending an arm up to a tree branch to keep himself steady. He was not yet dead. He might soon be, but as long as he could walk, if not run, then he would not enter the Emptiness. He would head back to the village and-

He stumbled. He closed an eye. No. He couldn't head back. If he was still alive by the time he reached the village, the gods would kill him on the spot. He needed to rest. To heal. And bar the village, the only place where he might be able to do that was the shrine to the north. So many bounds away. But, he thought, as he looked over what was left of the forest, what else could he do but live and pray? Live long enough to reach the shrine, and live slightly longer to offer a prayer to Raise the Glow. The mother goddess. The one who protected them from the creatures of the Emptiness. Rise the Light sometimes provided such protection and light, but Raise was always there. Raise came when Rise would not. Raise would help them…even if the golden orb remained in the sky, and no sign of the gods bar those with the flying daggers was there to be seen. Perhaps, he wondered, he should close all his eyes, and not see her light any longer. Perhaps he should return to the solid cloud. Perhaps…perhaps…

No. He would not. Leaning on his spear, he stumbled to the north. The shrine, gods willing, might have herbs with which to treat his wound. But if he perished, so be it. All that mattered was that his arms and fur be seen, and the gods see his prayer.

What else could he do?

After casting one last glance at the observer feed, Selendis entered the psi-link array.

The same feed would be beamed to Shakuras in real-time. On that world, over a hundred light years away from Barkul, the Hierarchy would have gathered in the Citadel. On that same world, a hologram of Executor Selendis would appear before them. To her, however, the members of the Hierarchy were holograms. There were more simple ways the Firstborn might communicate with one another, but she preferred the intimacy. Through the psi-link, she could feel the minds of her fellow Khalai, however faintly. Artanis, Nahaan, Zekrath, Tabrenus, and Urun…all her fellows. Some she respected more than others, but she could concede that at moonrise's end, they could be counted on to work for the good of the Daelaam, even if their views differed on how best that goal be met. Only Mohandar's mind was cut off from hers, for he was a Nerazim. The only Nerazim on the council.

But where is Vorazun?

Vorazun was not a member of the Hierarchy, but would sometimes still attend meetings to ensure the needs of her people were met. This, apparently, was not one of those times. But if Raszagal's daughter had better things to do attend a gathering of the Hierarchy, Selendis would let her. She and her people might ever owe a debt to the Nerazim matriarch, but Vorazun had fought Artanis at every turn. She was a stone in the river, forcing the water to flow around her. If the stone was removed, the river would flow faster, and Selendis would have her blessings to engage all the quicker.

"En Taro Tassadar, Executor Selendis," Artanis said.

"En Taro Tassadar, Hierarch." She put a palm to her armour – invoking Tassadar's name made her feel ill at ease, but she would give Him his honorific nonetheless. "I trust you have all been briefed."

"To the extent that the drakul have attacked Barkul, yes," Artanis said. She watched as the hologram of the hierarch consulted another holographic display. "The report from Prelate Azimar was succinct, if not elaborate in detail."

"There is no need for detail," Selendis said. "The drakul are here. The Tsokavis is in striking distance. I would think there is no need for this debate."

"After Haven?" Urun asked. "Perhaps you might reconsider your haste to engage enemies. Conjured or otherwise."

Selendis's eyes narrowed – she would have thought that Urun, of all the council members, would support her in this. Not dredge up unpleasant memories from one cycle ago. "The situation is different," she said cordially.

"Different, but still irrelevant," Nahaan said. "Aiur is within our grasp, and you would engage against space pirates in a quest to satiate your honour."

"It is not my honour that demands action, but the Dae'Uhl."

"One lesser species attacks another. The drakul are nothing. The eleesh less than nothing." She watched as Nahaan looked at Artanis. "You know this, Hierarch. The edicts of the Dae'Uhl cannot apply now."

"And will they ever?" Artanis asked.

"It is your choice, of course." He bowed his head slightly. "But I would protest against this. And I am certain that many on the council would as well."

Selendis watched his gaze shift to Tabrenus and Zekrath. Nahaan…by the gods, she couldn't claim surprise that he would be against action. Five cycles ago, he had argued for the extermination of humanity by the hands of Tassadar, in light of the zerg threat, and over those five cycles, his attitude had remained unchanged. Zekrath, as ever, was inscrutable, and Tabrenus…She stretched out her mind, trying to gauge his thoughts, but his mind was closed from hers. But whether it be by distance, or design, she couldn't say – Tabrenus had rarely shown any interest in the politicking of the Hierarchy anyway, so his silence was perhaps not surprising. So all that left was-

"Prelate Mohandar," Selendis said. "What say you?"

It was a gamble. She could ill abide asking a Nerazim for aid, but she knew what had to be done, and the longer they debated, the more eleesh would die. Worse, the drakul might escape.

"What do I say?" Mohandar asked. Selendis watched his eyes grow dim – Mohandar was old. Older than any of the Hierarchy's members, yet she sensed that on this particular matter, his wisdom was limited. "What can I say of the Dae'Uhl? It is a concept of your empire."

"Formed a thousand cycles before the Discord," Selendis said.

"Indeed, yet my people did little to uphold it, as we sought refuge from the Conclave. A noble concept, to take on the stewardship of the gods, to safeguard other races, and yet I ask, what role does it have to play in our new society? The galaxy has changed. Like us, you know what it is to remain in the shadows, to no longer stride the stars as lords and masters."

Selendis clutched her fist even tighter. Through the Khala, she could sense similar resentment from Nahaan – his mind at least was as open as a parchment. For a moment, she was surprised, in that he had argued the same thing as Mohandar had. But of course, she realized, Nahaan clung to his version of truth. Others might reach the same truth, but he would resent them for it. The truth was his alone.

And yet the truth is that there should be no need for this charade. If we are to hide in the shadows, what of the drakul? They're so deep in shadow one could barely see them!

"And yet…" Mohandar trailed off, briefly closing his eyes. "And yet, like my other councillors, I have seen the footage you have sent us. Death. Destruction. Small in scale, compared to the carnage that has fed the soil of a hundred worlds, yet death nonetheless. So I would ask you…what can you tell me of the drakul?"

Selendis tilted her head. "What can we tell you?"

"What can you tell me?" Mohandar repeated. "Their name is unfamiliar."

"Of course it is," Nahaan said. He glanced at Selendis. "The drakul are vermin, nothing more. They are beneath us."

"Evidently not," Tabrenus said, speaking for the first time. He looked at Selendis. "Very well, Executor. Tell us of the drakul. Are they vermin? Or do we risk waking a sleeping giant?"

Selendis looked at Artanis. Surely, she thought, surely it should be he who should speak? They were both Templar, they both knew what it was to uphold the Dae'Uhl. To defend the Firstborn, and those beneath them. Even Urun could answer for her. She stretched out her mind, touching on the thoughts of the hierarch…but she drew back. The Khala was faint, but she could sense the tumult. It was a storm, and he was barely cresting the waves. And Selendis knew enough about the Hierarchy and the precarious state of her people to understand. He wanted her to speak. After all, was it not she who was championing the eleesh's cause?

"The drakul," Selendis said. She began walking around the holographic display of the Hierarchy, picking a crystal off the wall of the array as she did so. To them, she would be drifting like a spirit, but to her, her flesh and thought-stream was one. "They were first encountered by Executor Latharin roughly four-hundred and eleven cycles ago, above the moon of Santrag. They engaged his fleet, and suffered for it. Since then, we have learned a degree of their culture and biology." She paused. "If the Dae'Uhl is to be upheld, one must understand one's enemy."

"And what of this enemy?" Mohandar asked.

Enemy. She felt Nahaan's thoughts enter her own. Space pirates are the 'enemy' of the Firstborn? You would distract us from the only enemy that matters?

Selendis cloistered her mind from his touch. The zerg were the greatest enemy the protoss had ever known, and billions of them were still on Aiur. Yet she would not be swayed, and using her mind in conjunction with the crystal, beamed a hologram of a drakul across the void of space, right to Shakuras. The Hierarchy would see the enemy that now terrorized the eleesh.

"A drakul," she said. "Two meters tall, on average. Nocturnal, with excellent vision. Average strength for a species of their nature, but well above average speed." She gestured to the creature's pale, hairless head, moving down from the nostrils, to the pair of eyes, down to the mouth. "You will notice the creature's mouth, how the jaws open sideways rather than vertically. Beyond their lips are rows of teeth that they can use to tear into the flesh of other animals. Usually around the neck. Blood-suckers, in all respect. Not to mention that they can dislocate their jaw and strike out, akin to a serpent."

She glanced at Mohandar – he looked interested, while the other Khalai looked on impassively. They all knew this. She quickened her words, drawing reference to the drakul's black armour, with its clan markings and trinkets – fingers, bones, cultural artifacts. Nahaan had called the drakul space pirates, and in that regard, he was right. In her experience, few races in the galaxy were mono-cultural. Even the terrans were divided into three major factions, along with a fourth situated on the planet they called Earth. But the drakul…

"We cannot say what the drakul homeworld is," Selendis continued. "They are a nomadic species, divided into numerous clans that will fight each other as readily as other species. But from what we have learnt of their history, the drakul rose to sapience late in the history of their homeworld. They achieved FTL travel just in time to escape their system as their sun became a white dwarf, remaining in space. The drakul are nocturnal, but being a race of nomads, it hardly affects them – we believe that each drakul's biological clock is set to the cycle of their home ship."

"And what of their ships?" Mohandar asked. "What of their warriors?"

Warriors. Too generous a word.

Selendis didn't say that though – she had little time for the concerns of the Nerazim, but Mohandar was at least asking sensible questions. Adjusting the crystal, the image of the drakul changed to a trio of ships. She highlighted the first one – the largest of the three, shaped like a crescent. Like a Tempest, but larger, and darker.

"A Harvester," Selendis explained. "A capital ship by drakul standards, though a light warship by ours. While they may outclass us in speed, and carry up to thousands of slaves or…warriors, in their hulls, they are little to be feared. They carry plasma weaponry, but little else."

"Apart from their fighters?" Mohandar asked.

Selendis nodded and gestured to the second ship – a dagger-shaped craft that was roughly the same size as a Scout. "This is a Pillager," she explained. "A light attack craft, likewise equipped with plasma weaponry. Our observer feed has establishes that the pair of Harvesters above this world are carrying them. They don't hit that hard, but they're exceptionally fast." She moved on to the last of the ships. It was wide and long, its cockpit in the shape of a sickle's tip, as it required two drakul to pilot. "A Scythe," Selendis explained. "A troop transport. No sign of this yet, but if the drakul seek the eleesh as slaves, they will be deployed." She closed the hologram, looking over the Hierarchy. "Understand that the drakul will sooner take flight rather than fight. We have engaged them over a dozen times over the centuries, though only when the drakul were threatening another species. Their ships are outclassed by ours, and their warriors cannot stand before the Templar. They fear us. Give me your blessings, and they shall fear us again."

"But they do not fear us now, do they?" Urun asked. "Are they ignorant, Selendis? Or arrogant?"

She hesitated – if Urun had doubts, then what could be said for the other council members?

"The drakul clans," Mohandar asked. "Have they ever been united?"

"In the past, yes, but-"

"So if you engage them here, we might turn the drakul against us. I fear we could ill afford a second enemy, even with the zerg departed and the terrans bloodied."

Anger coursed through Selendis, washing over her like a wave across a beach. Mohandar and his kind hid from the light, who was he to lecture her on fear? The air crackled around her. An illumination crystal on the ceiling gave out. Clenching her fist, she was ready to speak-

"Thank you, Executor."

But said nothing, as Artanis spoke. When the hierarch spoke, she listened, as did the rest of the Hierarchy.

"We shall convene to discuss these matters," Artanis said. "In the meantime, you are not to engage the drakul."

Her anger, which had briefly retreated, began to bubble upwards. "But the dictates of the Dae'Uhl-"

"Are clear," Artanis said, and as he looked at Nahaan, Selendis could tell that it was not only her that he was speaking to. "Yet the nature of reality is clear as well. The Great Stewardship has made us guardians of those who dwell in our shadow. Yet shadows have spread over our domain, and our own shadow is much reduced. Hence, we must consider the choice that lies before us."

"And how many eleesh will die until that happens?"

Artanis's eyes flashed. "Far fewer than the number of protoss who have fallen to the Swarm. Fewer even than those who will sally forth upon Aiur when the time comes."

And more than I lost one cycle ago?

It was her own question, one addressed only to herself. Her own mind. Her own conscience. A question that she feared answering.

"We shall be in contact soon," Artanis said. "En taro Tassadar."

"En taro Tassadar," Selendis replied.

The hologram of the Twilight Council flickered, faded, then died.

And Selendis was left alone.