Sorry this has taken so long, but I've been very busy. I also wanted to direct a special apology to Ragnarok666, because I promised to read his story and haven't done so. It's not apparent from this chapter, but will be made so in the next, but this chapter takes place about a month and half after the previous chapter. None of the action takes place on Korhal, but the basic status is this (the action returns to Korhal next chapter, and so this will be much more fully developed then): the Dominion reinvasion has stalled, but Dominion forces have linked up with the most substantial pockets of Dominion stragglers on the surface, especially around Mengsk's palace; both the Zerg and Dominion have suffered heavy casualties, both in space and on the ground. The following chapter brings in several new characters, including a few Umojan characters, and is intended to set up the plot for the rest of the story. One (probably) final character remains to be introduced, but he's waiting just off-screen, as it were, and will show up in the next chapter. I hope you enjoy my takes on the various canon characters. If there is anything particularly egregious or even mildly annoying about my portrayal, please let me know.
"Sir, we have an incoming hail," Matt Horner called across the bridge. He got no response. "Sir. Hail," he repeated. Nothing. Horner walked to the tiny, uncomfortable chair in which a person had somehow contrived to fall asleep in. Horner stretched out his hand, and tapped the bridge of the sleeping man's nose. He awoke with a start, unkempt brown hair flying in every direction. "Wuh? Matt?" the man said, recognizing the pseudo-fascistic uniform his chief subordinate wore.
"Not sleeping again?"
"Never."
"Back when we were in the thick of it, I understood. Kerrigan, Char 2.0, all of that. Now you've got no excuse not to be resting."
"Still got a revolution to run."
"Which, I might point out, you can't do on no sleep."
"Fair enough," James Raynor, terrorist, revolutionary hero, do-gooder extraordinaire, pirate, mercenary, rebel, humanitarian, said as he heaved himself somewhat ungraciously out of the constricting confines of the chair.
"Seriously, though. You've got no excuse. This revolution isn't just Hyperion any more. Now we've got the Umojans, the Daelaam, half the Dominion. Even those Morian assholes support us."
"From time to time."
"Don't change the subject. We've got enough resources now that this thing doesn't need to run on just you anymore. You could take a few days off. At least, you could get some sleep. And stop drinking."
"Well, now you're just bein' unreasonable."
"Fair enough. One thing at a time."
"Sure, Mom."
Horner heaved a huge sigh, and instead of rising to that, simply said, "You've got a hail incoming."
"Now who's tryin' to change the subject?" Raynor needled. Before Horner could respond, though, he asked, "Who from?"
"Doesn't say."
"Which can only mean…"
"Yeah. Kerrigan."
"Yep. Surprised we haven't heard from her sooner, what with Dominion remnant media shouting that she's behind Korhal. Put her through," Raynor said, shaking off his hangover.
"Hello, Jim," the face in the screen said, its too-dark green eyes glittering with slightly malicious humor, a look Raynor was getting tired of seeing.
"Sarah. Long time," Raynor said, attempting to be serious.
"Been busy," she said, her yellow pupils contracting further, the laughter intensifying.
"So I've heard. You know you've put me in a bad spot with this Aiur thing, right?"
"Oh yes, Jim, it's all about you and your problems," she mocked. "Never mind the fate of the universe. Or even my problems."
"Now that just ain't fair," Raynor said, attempting to match her tone by slipping into the country bumpkin voice he sometimes used to encourage his enemies to underestimate him.
"For what it's worth, I am sorry. I know you worked hard to get the Daelaam to support you. And I'm sure it's hard being my friend and theirs."
"They're asking for my help on Aiur," he said, quietly.
"What? What did you tell them?"
"Hold on a moment, Sarah," Raynor said, turning to face Horner. "Transfer this call to my cabin, Matt." Horner nodded to a bridge tech, and Kerrigan's face disappeared from the screen.
"Everything all right, sir?" he asked.
"Dunno yet." Raynor said, spinning on his heel to leave the bridge.
When Raynor arrived in his cabin, and switched on the comm display, Kerrigan asked again "What did you tell them?"
"Nothing, yet. Told them I had my hands full in Dominion space. Which is true. But at some point they will want an answer. If you don't make your peace with them before that, I'm going to have to pick a side."
"And you're going to pick the Protoss."
"Can you blame me?"
"You have no idea how badly I want to," she said, humor completely drained from her eyes, bitterness inflecting her words.
"I can't finish this thing without the Umojans. The Dominion's weak, and getting weaker every day, but even with everything I've got, I can't win. Not even with Valerian's cruisers, after the losses on Char." At the mention of Char, hate, contempt, despair, grief, and joy chased themselves across Kerrigan's face. "And if I come out against the Protoss, hell, the Umojans won't just abandon me, they might declare war. And without Umojan guns and money to back me up, the Morians jump in. And then those leeches get the whole damned sector, or the Dominion takes it back. That, I will not allow."
"But what about…" she trailed off, not quite able to bring herself to mention whatever remained of their relationship. "Doesn't that count for anything?" she almost pleaded.
"I'm sorry, Sarah," Raynor almost snarled, his face hard. "But that ain't even relevant, not anymore. I haven't come this far, haven't ordered thousands of good people to their deaths, to throw it away for you, for me, or for us. You have no idea how badly I want to," he said, his voice very quiet now. "But I won't allow all of that, all those deaths, to be in vain. Not for anything. Not for anyone. Not ever."
Resignation and grief filled Kerrigan's eyes. "I understand. God knows, I know what it's like carrying the weight of the dead," she said, suddenly seeming small and weary, the same way Raynor felt, all too often.
"Surprised it hasn't crushed you," he said harshly, regretting it immediately, but still struggling not to throw her atrocities in her face. Not the same person, he told himself. The person who did those things is dead.
"Who says it hasn't? I may be free of the infestation, but I'll never be free of the things I did."
"It wasn't you," Raynor said, barely a whisper, trying desperately to believe it.
"Of course it was. And even if I do save the universe, it won't be enough."
Raynor couldn't think of anything else to say, and so changed the subject, "Did you have something you wanted us to broadcast?"
"Yeah. Sending."
"We'll get this onto as many screens as we can. But the Dominion's becoming resistant to our hacks. No promises."
"Thanks, Jim."
"Yeah. See ya," Raynor said, and cut the communication. Heaving a sigh, he keyed his door, and walked out. From behind him, a voice said, "Want to talk about it?"
"Not really," Raynor said, stopping, but not looking back.
"Fair enough. You know, you never told me why she's trying to revive the Overmind. She was his slave; doubt she wants to be one again." Horner said.
Silently grateful that Horner wasn't going to press him, as he had feared the captain would, said, "Yeah, but I doubt she'd bring him back far enough to re-enslave her."
"But why? Seems like a lot of work for not much benefit."
"Well, remember that the Overmind's vision I saw in Zeratul's crystal came through Tassadar."
"Doubt Kerrigan trusts him."
"Yeah."
"But why would she trust the Overmind? Seems like the whole slavery thing would militate against it."
"Well, I don't think she trusts the Overmind. But probably trusts him more than Tassadar."
"Which might not be saying much."
"No. Fortunately, though, we've got more pressing problems. Those, at least, I understand. Mostly, anyway."
"That's why I'm glad I'm not in charge."
"One day, Matt, you will be. Savor it."
"Don't say that, sir. You've got plenty of fight left."
"It's not the fight I'm worried about. Got more than enough of that, you're right. I just don't think I'm cut out for what comes after the fight's over. Don't think I'm cut out for civilian government."
"And you think I am?"
"I know you are, Matt. Part of why I picked you, why I made you second in command of this revolution. Compared to politics, war's easy. And one thing I'll say for Mengsk is that the man knew how to build a government." Horner looked momentarily shocked, thinking his superior had actually praised Mengsk for something. Reacting, Raynor continued, "Oh, sure, it was an oppressive, totalitarian insult to the concept of good governance built on lies, brutality and truly twisted cult of personality, but damn if it didn't do what it was supposed to do, for a while at least."
"Maximize Mengsk's personal power?"
"Exactly. But your government will have to do something much harder, and last longer. That's a more difficult task than you can possibly imagine. But one I know you can handle."
"I'm not the messiah, sir."
"That's exactly what he said."
"Very funny. And that's not really what he said."
"Fine, I'm paraphrasing. Sue me."
"In what court?"
"Keep it up, maybe I'll replace you."
"But you really think I build a government based on consensus that'll ensure peace, freedom, justice, and security?"
"Like I said, Matt, I know you can do it.
"What about Valerian? Whatever comes after the Dominion, he'll be a part of it, whether we like it or not."
"Unless he dies."
"I don't think that's likely, not unless we assassinate him, which I know we're not going to do. He seems to have as good a sense for self-preservation as his father."
"It is a conundrum."
"I think he could help. Maybe a lot."
"Well, he's already promised to help with those cruisers of his. Which, I'll point out, he keeps finding ways not to do."
"He claims they're still undergoing repairs. The Umojans are getting tired of having him around. And you're trying to change the subject again; I meant that he could help after the fight's over."
"I know. I just don't want to think about that. He's a Mengsk, and we know Mengsks don't mix well with democracy. And once a Mengsk…"
"Always a Mengsk, I know. You don't trust him. Fine, neither do I. But he's not the man that killed billions for the sake of power. I know you're worried he'll try to subvert whatever government we build after we kill the Dominion, but I don't think it's that likely. Not impossible, no, but not likely."
"He's no Arcturus, I'll give him that much. But he hasn't had the same opportunities, which is most of what worries me. And none of that means he's nothing like his father. I just worry about how much."
"Like I said, I think he could actually help."
"Well, when it comes right down to it, it'll be up to you. And I know you'll make the right decision, even if I don't like it. And, of course, if he does try anything, you'll be there to stop him."
"Exactly. But I think he's sincere when he says he wants to be better than his father."
"Which wouldn't be hard."
"Yeah, you've said that more than once. And you're deliberately missing the point."
"You know, it's annoying as hell, you calling me out on my attempts to duck this conversation."
"I try, sir."
"I hope you're right about him."
"Me, too. But if I'm not, we can just shoot him."
"Now you're talking."
"Your time has ended, slave," the swirling ball of red and black lights said, its words projected telepathically across the huge lab. The person he addressed didn't look up, but merely replied, "Oh, do tell," its voice amplified unnaturally.
"You are no longer useful, so you will be destroyed," the cloud said, its lights pulsing furiously as it built up for a psionic attack.
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," his target said, nonchalantly flipping through pages on his tablet computer.
"You think we cannot destroy you, slave?"
"I don't think you want to try. If you do, I will have to defend myself. You may not survive. And even if you could kill me, you're far too infantile to finish this on your own."
"Infantile?! How dare you!"
"Oh, shut up. You're boring me. Get back to work."
"We can create them on our own. You have taught us all we need to know."
"Maybe. For children, you're remarkably skilled, if prone to tantrums. But even if you could, you know you couldn't create them fast enough and in sufficient quantity to satisfy him."
"Our speed would quickly increase, without you here, holding us back. Intentionally, we suspect."
"Again, you're boring me. And wasting time. Get back to work."
"Do not presume to dictate to us, worm. You are his tool, an instrument, to be used and disposed of. We? We are his heir. And you are ours to do with as we see fit."
The man finally reacted, surging from his seat, leaping across the lab, landing nimbly in front of the swirling lights that made up Ulrezaj's form. "His heir? How dare you," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "He has no heir, prodigals. He will rule until the end of time, once we pave the way. You are mewling grovelers, desperately prostrating yourselves in the hope he won't extinguish you along with all the life in this universe. You think yourselves his heir, greater than me? The Khalai imprisoned you, weakling. I had to free you. You saw how quickly I killed Zamara, who bound you and herself to that crystal, and yet you think yourself the stronger? You are nothing without me."
"We were outnumbered, already weakened. At our full powers, as now, none of them could have stood against us."
"You would not have been, had you not already been defeated many times. Some of those times, by Terrans. Terrans. Barely embryonic, only nominally sapient, even they proved too much for you. You are ants, useful, certainly, but nothing more. Even compared to the hybrids we now create, you are as nothing. Never forget that, and he may spare you. May even give you something to rule."
The lights pulsed violently, Ulrezaj's anger threatening to explode and destroy the lab, but he still ground out, "This is not over, Duran. We will not submit to you."
"Fine, don't. Submit to him. And, as you said, I am his instrument. I am the conduit of his will. Accept that his will, for now, is that we work together to create enough hybrids to lead the hordes that will conquer the universe."
"We still do not understand why we allow the Terrans to create the Zerg-dominant hybrids. It is obscene, allowing them to defile perfection with their machines and their horrid bodies. Much like yours."
Samir Duran smiled wryly, considering his own form, a grotesque mix of human, Zerg, and Protoss, momentarily. "True. And, in truth, I do not know. The Fallen One has not deigned to inform me of the full sweep of his plans. I merely accept that this is how it must be."
"As he wills, then."
"Exactly."
"ETA to the rendezvous point: two minutes, Captain."
"Thank you, Mr. Olvera. Carry on," William Roland replied, looking towards the large screen dominating the front half of his bridge, in which an old, beat-up Confederate-era Behemoth-class cruiser steadily grew. "Serviceable, certainly, but nowhere near the state of the art, not even in Dominion space," Commander Adam Fletcher, his chief engineer, said from his station at the far end of the bridge.
"I'll remind you, Adam, that the Terran Dominion no longer exists."
"Ah yes. How could I forget? Maybe it's the fleets they still fly, the armies they still deploy, and the planets they still tax that make it hard for me to remember that it no longer exists."
"It's the Council's official policy."
"Yes. The wisdom of which remains to be seen."
"True. But I've known at least one man on that ship for long enough to doubt we backed the wrong horse in this particular race. Especially since the invasion of Korhal."
"Dominion's on the ropes, no doubt, but it's nowhere near out yet. Except in the official sense," Fletcher said, grinning.
Roland returned it with a small smile, replying, "And don't count that ship out, either. She's been through, and survived to tell about, more than just about any ship in the sector."
"Which is why I'm willing to trust your faith in your old friend over there."
"Captain, we have a hail incoming," Olvera said again.
"On screen, if you please." An image appeared, of a young man in a uniform that would have been ostentatious when new, but was now just as battered as his surroundings. "Admiral Horner," Roland said to the screen, saluting crisply, "nice to finally meet you. I've heard good things."
"As I have about you, Captain," the face replied, returning the salute. "Got someone here who wants to talk to you."
"I'd like to hear from the rascal myself," Roland said, as the young face was replaced by a significantly older-looking one. "William Roland. As I live and breathe."
"James Raynor. What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?"
"A lot more than we ever planned for when you threw that brick into the Beer Hut's window."
"Ah, good times. You never forget your first criminal act, do you?"
"First time I'd ever seen more than about twenty credits. So, no."
"But is that where all this really started?"
"Maybe. Who really knows? But here we are."
"How we got here, that we didn't plan for. But I know I never aspired to be much more than a dirt farmer, back then, and I doubt yours were any higher. Now look at us."
"Well, once I became a cop I figured I'd do that for the rest of my life. Though I doubted I'd survive the Guild Wars."
"Speaking of being a cop, when'd you figure out it was me you were chasing, all those years ago?"
"Took me longer than I'd like to admit, considering all the shenanigans we got up to."
"Well, I'll say this for your skills, you came closer to catching me than anyone ever did. Although, you'd never have gotten that close if I'd thought you were a threat. I underestimated you, I admit."
"With the way the magistrate was stonewalling my investigation, I was pretty sure he was in someone's pocket."
"And that was why I didn't think you were a threat. The magistrate kept telling me he'd keep you off my back. So much for that."
"I was just surprised a big-time criminal like yourself was even on Mar Sara."
"Yeah. Wasn't my idea. My bosses asked me to, and saying 'no' wasn't really an option. I never actually learned the full picture. In fact, it was that botched job that made me go freelance, though I did have to fight off my old associates' people for quite a while afterward. Which is how I ended up in Umojan space. Big mistake, from the criminal perspective."
"They're a lot less tolerant of crime out there, that's for sure. Which makes me wonder why they gave you a commission."
"You've read my file, you know why."
"That's the official line, which I doubt is the truth, especially where you're concerned."
"Shockingly, the file tells the complete truth. They caught me in short order, and offered me amnesty in exchange for service in their navy. I guess they thought my particular skill set would make for a good officer."
"And they were right, if the rest of your file is true."
"For the most part."
"So, you ready for this?"
"As long as you've got more than just Hyperion. Ajax is tough as hell and has even more firepower, but two ships against everything the Dominion's throwing at Korhal is pretty much suicide."
"Have you so little faith? I've built up quite a fleet over the last year. Why do you think Matt's an admiral now?"
"Because Valerian made himself one and, even though he's only nominally part of your alliance, you couldn't let him outrank your second in command?"
"Well, that too. But thanks to defections and capture, I've got twenty-seven cruisers, not counting Valerian's, which he's being ominously stingy with."
"I've met him. He's not that bad. Bit arrogant, occasionally pretentious, but let he who is never either of those things cast the first stone. Not everything he does that you don't agree with is ominous."
"Oh, don't you start, too. Matt's been trying to get me to bring him all the way in. Not going to happen, at least not until he commits with those cruisers. Until then, he's just another goddamned Mengsk."
"Have you ever considered that he's holding his cruisers back because you're shunning him, because you won't make him a full member of your 'I hate the Dominion' coalition?"
"…To be honest, not really. I thought he was just being an asshole."
"Of course you did, because you swore to murder his father. Such things tend to screw with your perspective."
"Feels like someone would have mentioned that to me, though."
"They probably tried. You just refused to listen."
"That is so…possibly true. Goddamn it."
"Let's face it, Jim. Mengsks are your blind spot. You give a little, maybe he gives a little. Or maybe he even gives a lot. Won't know until you try. And you're going to need those cruisers."
"True. Goddamn you and your reasonableness, Bill."
"On the other hand, he could be holding back because he wants to save the cruisers to use for leverage after the Dominion dies."
"That was my second thought, after being an asshole."
"But I doubt it, or at least I doubt that's his main objective. Like I said, I met him. He told me he wants in. But if you do keep the door slammed on him, the chances of him using those cruisers against you afterward go up and up."
"Fine, you've made your point. I'll talk to him. But right now, it's time to invade Korhal," Raynor said, as the various sensor displays scattered around the bridge lit up with dozens of contacts. The fleet had arrived. "This is the endgame, Bill. We're going to take Korhal from the Zerg, hold it against the Dominion, and then we're going blow up Mengsk's fucking palace. With him inside."