Augustgrad - Southern Entrenchment
Jayce stared down at Tychus, gripping the controls of the SCV in her sweaty palms, the light from the returned sun beating through the glass and making it feel hotter than it was. I should grab him right now, I can hold him long enough to call for help. She jumped hard when he sat up abruptly, head turning towards the retreating small crowd of CMCs.
"Don't look up," she mouthed, praying fervently. Sweat dripped down her nose and pooled at the bottom of her oxygen mask and she ripped it off in one quick, frustrated motion.
Was he about to attack? There was no way he could kill all of them, he would be shredded. He could take two, maybe even three, before they turned around, but that would be it; statistics simply said that Findlay would die. Disturbingly sinuous, Tychus flowed to his feet and began prowling after Daren and his men.
Movement on the radar caught her eye, making her brows knit together in confusion, she could have sworn there was more than just the group of marines for a second there. With a hydraulic hiss, she began to reach for Tychus from behind as he started walking, when the malicious alien who was at the helm showed its hand.
Daren was muttering, "Don't know about you boys, but I'm getting real sick of emperors, their empires and god damned aliens popping up-" when the earth beneath his feet erupted violently. Fully surprised, instinctual reactions were all that kept him from falling backwards, instead he used the CMC to leap and tumble forwards while gunfire and screaming began behind him.
"Regroup!" he bellowed while spinning around, rifle ready. He could have screamed in rage at the sight of the roaches, in fact, he vaguely realized he was as he squeezed the trigger and held it. His men, his people, were fighting for all they were worth, but the roaches got the jump on them and their acid was already doing its gruesome work; it was already a slaughter.
Behind them and approaching at a walk was their master. White haloed Daren's vision as he watched Tychus Findlay reach up and tug off his spectre helmet, a blue shimmer chasing after it as whatever cloaking technology bullshit Valerian gave him was turned off, revealing an alien countenance and a hard glare through glowing orange eyes; Daren took aim at that face with every intention of blasting it clean off.
Raising his arms in a welcoming gesture, the fabric of Tychus' suit stretched outwards at the arms, elbow and upwards, until it gave way with an audible rip, long blades snapping forwards and into position. Needing no convincing, Daren fired, but the shot ricocheted off of the thick carapace of a roach; and every shot he took after that was purposefully deflected much the same.
"Filthy zerg bastard!" Daren snapped, realization of what was happening taking root.
Jayce watched, stomach twisting as the roaches danced, leaped and tumbled around, denying Daren, who stood alone now, any free shots; the weathered marine was taking steps backwards between gunfire rounds, still trying to get at Findlay, until a roach spewed acid on his gun.
Snarling, Daren tossed the rifle away as it fizzled and burned, reaching for the standard issue knife magnetically clipped to the leg of his CMC; the roaches, all three remaining, scuttled outwards to give the two combatants space, croaking and singing in a demented taunting trio.
"Come get it then," Daren growled through the crackling speakers of his CMC, taking a second to glance past Findlay and glare at the motionless SCV a ways back; that coward chose her side already. As his eyes shifted back to the savagely grinning alien in front of him, he fervently hoped everyone who made this possible got what they deserved.
They charged one another.
Biting her lip, Jayce keyed open the comm and began drumming out a sequence with her fingertips against the mic. taptaptap...taptap...taptaptap.
Without any delusions of surviving the encounter, Daren entered the fight like a man possessed, trying to come in low like his opponent; Tychus' two long blades would cut through Daren's lower half, machine or no machine, like butter if he let them.
Colliding with a loud clank, Daren used the marginally larger frame of his CMC to bully down Tychus' shoulder with his own, his left arm tangling up with the alien monstrosities' right as they grappled for one another; Tychus' smouldering gaze locked with his, their faces scant inches apart as Daren's knife and Tychus' unnatural sword of a blade ground and shifted together harshly.
Daren spat in a glowing eye, forcing Findlay to blink; a momentary distraction that yielded results. Catching the arm he was grappling for, Daren let the arm blade slip past his knife and used the infested man as an anchor, hurtling his bulky CMC over Tychus' broad shoulder and landing behind him, knife coming down at Findlay's neck with deadly intent.
For a second Jayce stared, wide eyed and mouth gaping, thinking this was the end; what seemed like an unstoppable terminator was about to be taken down by a single pissed off marine. At the same time another thought occurred, which fate would be worse for her: Tychus winning, or Daren? The roaches were still there.
All illusions were dispelled as Tychus grabbed the mechanical hand that was plunging down with the knife and tucked it down to his chest with both hands, leaning forwards and tossing the entire CMC over his hip with seemingly no effort. Daren landed on his back with a metallic crash, staring up in surprise at Tychus' smug face; Findlay clenched his fists and ripped the mechanical hand off, tossing it and the knife it still held aside.
Jayce shook her head in disbelief as she watched the metal hand go flying and the infested man pin the machine down, starting to methodically pry apart the armor that encased his prey.
For his part, Daren kicked his legs and tried to unseat the monster on his chest, trying furiously to take swings with his remaining mechanical hand, but made no headway. He swore fiercely when sparks flew and stung his skin, fresh air, tainted by the scent of melting flesh and neosteel, flooding into the previously sealed suit; a strange sense of peace descending on him as he realized he would be joining his men shortly.
No longer praying for Tychus to return, Jayce stared as an epiphany hit her: Daren did not deserve this, did not deserve to be half tugged out of his suit like a rag doll, and certainly did not deserve Tychus beginning to pull him in half at the shoulders like he was. Tychus was well and truly gone, taken by the swarm. And I allied myself with monsters over men.
Blood hit the air and the roaches went insane, it was little comfort that she could not hear the long, wretched scream of the dying marine. Resolve pulsed through her veins; there was no clean way out of this, no way to absolve her sins but with more blood. Shifting in her seat, Jayce took aim and pressed the button with a skull on it.
Tychus opened his eyes when the familiar stench of stale sweat, cigars and alcohol invaded his nose, heart racing for a reason he could not yet discern; a scowl touched his mouth when the room was so dim his eyes had to take time to adjust.
Questions that needed answering began to come boiling up, but with no one but himself to ask them to. Why am I here? What am I forgetting? Something important happened, something that made his pulse race with anger at the very thought. His eyes began to scan over the old, dingy room; the familiarity of it all was so wrong.
Like a stroll through memory lane, Tychus looked upon his old home on Mar Sara with confusion and distaste; his mind began to work at what happened, one thought leading to another, tickling at his brain and sliding out of reach when he grasped for them. This place could not exist, something happened to it, but he could not figure out why.
Growling and baring his teeth, he took a long step forwards and kicked the arm of an old recliner clean off, venting his considerable frustration with a plethora of creative swears. It just wasn't enough, he grabbed the rest of the filth stained contraption and chucked it over his head at a far corner; when the object crashed without a sound and two glowing eyes the shape of slits opened to glare at him, he did a double-take.
Zagara glared, shifting quietly on the spot; the broodmother should not be able to fit in such a small shack, reality seemed to twist around her form.
Broodmother. A memory tugged itself free, others cascading down with it. "Zerg," he blurted. Zerg destroyed Mar Sara, that is why this old hellhole could not exist, the protoss turned it into blackened glass after the zerg infested the planet; and he was zerg now, he remembered.
"Perceptive," the creature mocked in its echoing voice.
A name came to mind now as he looked at the broodmother: Shlassa. But as he looked the creature over more critically, and it was glaring at him the whole while, he realized this was in no way shape or form the broodmother that dwelled on the Hyperion with him and the others; she was scarred, chipped, jagged and rough. Shlassa was smooth and shiny in comparison, brand new.
He grunted out a short chuckle, it would be like comparing his older self with his teenage self: age and experience versus youth and arrogance, there was no contest between the two; this broodmother was battle hardened, a whole new league of dangerous.
"I am not that weak creature," the comparison seemed to offend his guest. "I am Zagara, and I now lead the Swarm." Zagara stood still, eyes glowing a sullen green as she regarded this particular piece of Kerrigan's collection.
"So you're the one drivin'," Tychus muttered, looking at their setting more critically now. Who knew what his body was getting up to, he was not exactly alone when Zagara won the wrestling match for control; Jayce was right there in a damned SCV. Jayce. Damnit, he knew why his heart raced now.
"Yes," Zagara paused, crested head tilting as though listening to something beyond his range of hearing. "So this is the terran who survived the battle of Char," the way she said it put Tychus' teeth on edge.
There was a door behind him, he knew it by heart, and he quickly pawed at the panel that would open it; all while another question began to form: Why was Zagara here? Light, far brighter than the muted shades of reds and browns of Mar Sara he remembered, flooded from around him and lit up his old pathetic lodgings. "Why are you here anyway?" He blurted again, no need to be subtle.
"I have taken control of the Swarm, the Queen of Blades is dead and you are under my control now," a clawed and spidery hand gestured towards the door behind him, "observe."
Zagara's blatant dodging of his question did not go unnoticed, Tychus filed it away for now. Jayce was in danger, hell, he was in danger; he needed to get out and get back in control. He turned around, blinking owlishly. "Sweet mother of mercy."
This was no doorway, not in any conventional sense; Tychus found himself staring through his own eyes, seeing what his body saw while Zagara controlled it. He was just in time to see the SCV, piloted by Jayce, hurling a vehicle his way as it fled with thrusters on high.
"I bring the Swarm to fight Amon now, as my Queen wished should she perish here," a bitter note was in Zagara's voice. "This Jayce, the fleshling who survived Char, kept you from rejoining us." A low growling echoed through the room as her ire festered, "she will die slowly now, she makes you weak."
Standing on the threshold of his mind and reality, Tychus grasped the edges of the door with his hands and thought. If Jayce could just keep running, keep putting obstacles in his path, she would get help eventually; of course, he would likely be a dead man then.
Letting out a slow breath, he addressed his unpleasant mental companion, "I don't give half a squat about you chasing after some big universe eating bogeyman, Zigzag," he smiled when she hissed in anger at her new nickname. It occurred to him then, glancing at his hand on the door, that he lacked the armored flesh and claws of his infested form; here, in his mind, he was a man.
Clicking and chittering echoed behind him, his guest was angry. "You are pathetic, your entire existence is laid out before me," her voice seemed to come closer, whispering in his ear. "Everything you have ever done has revolved around James Raynor, you are nothing without that terran to follow." If she could grin, she would, "he is dead now. Tychus Findlay is nothing."
Jim. Just the mention of the man made him put a white knuckled grip on the door frame. "Hell, you don't know nothin' about Tychus Findlay, Zigzag," he turned his head just enough to look over his shoulder at his guest, glaring, "but you're gonna."
Things seemed to be going south for the SCV; smoke, thick and black, began to weep from around the bright red thrusters, and his body began to gain ground as the machine started to slow. Zagara seemed content to chase, the patient hunter. "Doubtful. Even if you could escape my control, you are now trapped on a world of terrans, and you have killed many," he could feel the creature smiling, feel it. "And you are about to kill one more."
Stuttering and smoking, the SCV began to break down. "I can feel her panic," Zagara supplied helpfully, "this fleshling you dared to care about, who dared to keep you from my grasp, will suffer in a special way." Now she was just gloating, and it irked him.
In the cockpit, Jayce finished another round of frantic tapping on the comm and shut it off for good. If help had yet to arrive, it was not coming. "Piece of jumped up garbage!" she shouted in broken clicks and squeaks, watching the green dot that had been chasing her all this time finally closing in, almost within reach; the thrusters had overheated even faster than they would on a normal SCV, she needed a change of tactics and fast.
A smile lit up Tychus' face, not in relation to the SCV doing a sharp turn and half crashing, half scrambling up the side of a building, but to a realization. Turning away from the scene as his body approached the SCV at a slower pace; the machine let out one racking cough and died as the cockpit came to rest on the roof, ejecting its fleshy cargo.
"You know somethin', Zigzag?" A cigar appeared between his lips and he took a drag while smiling, he could get used to this whole dream realm thing.
"What?" she hissed, on guard at the change in her host. His body was atop the SCV now, looking down on Jayce as she lay prone and attempting to recover, far too slowly.
"Way I see it, Queen of Blades made us to be second only to her," he gave her his best wicked grin. "I don't think you got the manpower to control me," just like that, he snapped the chains that bound him to her as easily as he'd break a stick. Zagara reeled backwards and he chuckled as his physical body leaped towards Jayce, only to see her smiling and laughing as something collided with his body and sent him flying back down to the street below.
Absolutely smug in his certainty and strength, he said, "I think you just took advantage of me bein' caught off guard at a bad time, and you thought you could keep me occupied until you got me killed. Ain't that right?" Turning away from her, he watched as his body scrabbled back up the wall and the machine, dashing at full speed for the small transport ship that Jayce had just leaped into.
"You are dead anyway! A hopeless waste that will rot in a terran lab!" Zagara shrieked, still guiding his body as she made him leap and catch hold of the edge of the ramp as it folded upwards. He was getting in.
"You leave that to me to worry about. I'll be seein' you again Zigzag, real soon." With force he expelled the broodmother from his mind as she in turn forced him to leap at Jayce, who was standing inside of a heavy-looking cell as bait for the trap. In his mind, his hair and skin twisted and shimmered, human attributes melting away.
Infested Tychus slammed back into his physical self in a jarring moment and absorbed what was happening.
Jayce kicked off the back of the cell wall with her screaming leg muscles and lunged for all she was worth, sliding her much smaller frame past the heavy body and out of the cell as the pilot hammered the button to close the cell door and seal Tychus, and possibly the bait, inside.
Turning on the spot, Tychus reached out and caught her arm at the elbow, neatly catching the prey; unfortunately for Jayce, the door slammed on her shoulder and she wailed, voiceless, in panic and pain. Settling back into his body at a relaxed pace, he rolled his shoulders while turning his head and regarding her with eyes still glowing, lighting up the dark; all while her free hand banged on the outside of the cell frantically.
Shoulder being crushed by the heavy door, Jayce gasped and stared through the gap she was wedged in. Why was she not dead yet? Her vision became blurred and watery as tears of relief began to pour down her cheeks.
"Sweetheart," Tychus adjusted his grip, keeping a hold of her arm still, and reached through the gap to stroke her cheek with the back of a finger; he needed to make a decision.
Shoulders shaking with soundless sobs, she pressed her face to his hand and stilled, he was back somehow; the warm comfort did not last long. His hand withdrew and she kept her eyes closed, trying to master both the immense mental shock and physical pain.
A familiar clicking sound made her eyes snap open, staring with alarm into the dark and up at the eyes that had narrowed as they regarded her. Tychus leaned down to face level, "you shoulda let me go." Squeezing her arm in his hand, he felt bones, muscle and skin give way to his grip and his nails as he dug them in, cracking her bones at the elbow like popcorn.
Going rigid, her mouth flew open and she screamed so hard spit flew, though no sound chased after it; the last thing Tychus saw was a look of pure, utter betrayal on her face, right before he brought his blade down and lobbed her arm off. Electromagnetic, the door slammed shut and immediately sealed him, and the arm in his hand, in the dark.
Pure silence filled the cell.
"There ain't no comin' back from this," he murmured, a dark resolve filling him; he had just cut ties to his last weakness. "I'm hellbound, Jimmy," he looked down at the arm in his hand, fingers dug deep in the still warm and twitching flesh.
Bucephalus - Med Bay
Valerian watched, hands clasped behind his back, as the subjects eyelids fluttered, struggling back to the realm of consciousness through an anesthetic induced haze. When Jayce Burrough looked coherent, he spoke, "It is very fortunate I assigned medics to those ships at the last minute, else you would not be with us right now, Miss Burrough."
Confusion bloomed on the woman's features and Valerian felt a pang of sympathy as her left hand slowly reached up and touched her right shoulder. Before she could devote too much thought to what no doubt felt like a strange lack of sensation, he called her attention once more. "Your morse code message was very clever, given your vocal cord issue; which, by the way, my team of doctors decided to take care of for you, along with that missing front tooth." He smiled, ever charming.
Despite her vocal cords being repaired, her voice came out very soft, the confusion never leaving her face. "Valerian...What happened out there?"
Well prepared for the question, the prince stepped forwards to the foot of her bed, further commanding her attention and keeping her thoughts off of that strange sensation. "An explosion of artifact radiation, originating at the top of the Mengsk palace, killed both Jim Raynor and Sarah Kerrigan," he watched as her eyes widened, "the infested men went insane, and it seems the zerg have a new leader: the Swarm has left Korhal."
A sound, not quite a sob but something much more profound in its expression of misery, escaped her lips before she visibly hardened herself, gaze sharpening. "And the others?"
Pausing, Valerian glanced away from that hard gaze for a moment before returning it, remorse evident. "Matt Horner and Egon Stetmann have been captured. General Warfield is unaccounted for still, he may have been taken with the Swarm; and Tychus Findlay captured, largely thanks to you."
Her lips twitched as cold hands squeezed her insides, her heart, "Swann?" Teeth were bared when the Prince hesitated, "tell me damn you."
"Dead," he spoke softly, watching the breakdown begin.
A ghostly wail echoed through the cold, clean room. Jayce leaned forwards and hid her face in her hands as the tears and sobs came, further strengthened by the realization that her arm was missing; Tychus, the real Tychus, took it. A cybernetic arm was in its place, attached at the shoulder where soreness throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
Valerian murmured, paling at the memory of what scanners showed inside the cell, "I apologize, we were...unable to retrieve your real arm." He winced at a particularly shrill cry, "it is a small comfort, I know, but the cybernetic replacement is state of the art."
Jayce began to seethe, the sorrow of it all mixing with the betrayal into a muddy mess, this betrayal happened well before Korhal. She glared at her hands, real and fake, as they slowly lowered to her legs, cursing Zeratul for all he was worth; and herself for listening to some ancient protoss crackpot.
Sensing the change, Valerian gently restarted the conversation before she could go down another fast track to self loathing, "Miss Burrough,"
"Jayce," she growled.
"Jayce," he inclined his head, "while I came to tell you what happened personally, there is more." He took a steadying breath under the weight of her glare, clinging to every ounce of his skill as a convincing speaker and a man of power, "I would like to offer you a chance to leave."
With no reply forthcoming, only her undivided attention, Valerian continued, "I have a longstanding agreement with the leader of Haven, Doctor Hanson, that we now have the opportunity to take full advantage of." Jayce tilted her head a degree, curiosity evident. "Tychus Findlay has been transferred to a transport ship that is programmed to automatically deliver him to Haven for study."
Valerian saw her stiffen, her expression tellingly neutral. "Doctor Hanson has more experience and success in curing infestation than any terran alive. I believe there is a very good chance she could find the cure for him and, by proxy, everyone else." Unfurling his hands from behind his back, he placed them on the edge of the bed and leaned forwards, delivering the verbal killing blow.
"All the ship needs is one person capable of landing it. Augustgrad is in ruin, I need all hands on deck here, but you have done and suffered enough. Everything is taken care of, all you need to do is land the ship and enjoy the peace of Haven," he watched her expression carefully.
With her left hand she rubbed her mouth, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes again. Her voice came out muffled, "he cut off my arm."
Valerian nodded his agreement, the infested man was a monster for true; worst was the fact that, physically, Findlay could be considered the least dangerous of the six. He refrained from launching into that particular discussion. "Tychus Findlay is being held within a paristeel containment cell, sealed electromagnetically and with multiple redundancies built into it," he reassured her calmly, "you are completely safe and, once you are on Haven, you will not see him again."
Wiping her face with the back of her hand aggressively, Jayce sniffed once and regarded the prince evenly with reddened eyes; she was tired of empires, princes, wars and especially aliens, so very tired, "I'll do it."
Valerian smiled, holding a gloved hand out to her, "Come with me."
Bucephalus - Launch Bay
"There are rations on board, but you have also been given a nutrient implant," Valerian smiled, "Doctors orders." The prince was talking as he entered the launch bay with Jayce at his side, though their walk was largely him directing others and receiving updates while Jayce kept silent; the tension inside ratcheting up a notch with every step they took towards the ship and the monster inside.
Jayce touched her left arm, just below the bicep, feeling the telltale lump of the implant. It would keep her nourished for a set amount of time, but it would not keep her stomach from rumbling; she nodded woodenly when she realized the ramp of the nondescript ship was lowering.
Valerian eyed her keenly before taking the lead, stepping past a mechanic who was doing last minute adjustments, and coming to stand directly beside the dark paristeel prison that housed Tychus.
"She's all ready to go, Emperor Mengsk!" the mechanic spoke with a smile and a crisp salute.
"I can see that, you and your men have done good work on short notice, thank you," Valerian smiled and gave the man a nod, enjoying the new moniker his people had taken the liberty of bestowing upon him. He turned fully to face Jayce and patted the container, reassuring; he certainly would not be standing beside the box if he did not believe fully that it was safe, after all.
Jayce took a deep breath, locking eyes with Valerian and pointedly not looking towards the container. There was a sharp stinging scent in the air, heavy cleaning supplies, someone had enough presence of mind to clean up the blood, though it was little comfort; the closer she got to the container, the harder her hand shook.
"Jayce, please," Valerian smiled and gave the box another pat, "a person of my status does not stand beside unsafe equipment. Trust me when I say you will be safe all the way to, and on, Haven."
Her eyes widened to the size of small moons. "Please tell me you didn't just say the destination of this ship beside a," she faltered, glancing at the box with a spark of anger in her eye, "monster that can talk to billions of other monsters with his mind, did you?"
Chuckling softly, Valerian lowered his hand from the container and shook his head, "Mister Findlay can't hear anything, I assure you," the mechanic did not take her criticism of his Emperor so lightly, however.
Bristling visibly, the man glared. "Give your Emperor the respect he is due and leave worrying about how machines run to the qualified people," both Jayce and Valerian looked surprised, focusing on the man intently as he launched into an ignorant tirade. "There are redundancies upon redundancies with this high tech machine, I daresay far more than necessary for one infested man."
Having had enough, Valerian raised his hand and the mechanic quieted immediately. There was a cold note of reprimand in his tone, "That will be quite enough, thank you. Jayce here is a qualified engineer in her own right and certainly beyond criticism in that regard," he nodded towards her with a small smile as she smirked, "Though you are certainly correct that she is safe."
With a wave, he dismissed the thoroughly chastened man. Jayce had adjusted her position to be suitably far away from the container as soon as the mechanic was out of earshot, however. Accepting that this would probably be the highest level of comfort she was going to get in regards to the situation, Valerian held his hand out and she took it, perhaps a little overly firmly, with her new one.
"Well, I guess this is it," Jayce said, looking him in the eye with absolute resolve, "I wish you luck, Emperor Valerian. You have done nothing but be a good person to us, even if we didn't deserve it." Her eyes shifted over his shoulder pointedly, "hell, you could just kill all of the infested right now and nobody would blame you. Nobody."
Valerian felt a seed of warmth burst inside his chest, that she accepted him as Emperor meant a lot. He squeezed her cybernetic hand hard. "Thank you Jayce, trust that when order has been restored here I will be in touch. Raynor's Raiders will be acknowledged for the good they have done, and all the help they have rendered unto me."
A minute later and she stood beside the container silently, watching the last of the light in the launch bay disappear as the ship sealed itself against the vacuum of space that it would be traversing shortly; she could not shake the feeling it felt distinctly like a tomb sealing. Glancing at the container once more, she shivered and beelined for the cockpit, glad of the door that would keep him out of sight and out of mind.
She strapped herself into the pilot seat as the ship thrummed to life, eye catching a small datapad as it threatened to slip off the console when the ship lurched upwards. Catching it in her cybernetic hand, she thumbed it on and had a look out of curiosity, letting out an audible groan when she realized it was instructions; the ship was already rising into the Korhal sky as she begun to grudgingly read.
Mengsk Palace - Blast Site
Disembodied voices were getting closer by the moment.
"Approaching the epicenter now."
"Tons of residual artifact radiation, but no psionic readings," one of the bodiless voices mused, crackling through a speaker.
Deep pain as a harsh light passes over closed eyelids, it felt more like two rods piercing into his eyes.
"We got strong vitals over here!"
"Holy hell, it's her. Get word to the Emperor immediately! Tell 'em Raynor's here too."
"Boss..." Uncertainty, "It's her. We kill her now and we could be heroes."
"You got your orders, don't screw with me right now Private. Don't like 'em any more than you do," an older soul, the crusty voice of experience sent to curb the more unruly, apparently; or maybe just one of those resocs that lived past the rank of private somehow.
Jim's heart raced. Sarah was alive and had to be within reach, and people were talking about killing her. With a tremendous force of will, he tried to come to her rescue; his fingertip twitched.
"Give me a hand here, better get 'em strapped down for the ship." Jostling and grunts of effort. "Mind them spikes and blades and god-knows-what."
A strange, uncomfortable sensation came from his shoulder region, followed by a sharp sound. Snap!
"Uhh...Sir, it came off, I'm sorry."
Exasperated sigh.
"He'll live without one. Just watch what you're doing, moron."
Sensations of weightlessness and restriction. Jim swore he could feel and hear more by the second; good, he might have a fight on his hands real soon.
In her mind, Sarah wandered a vast wasteland where once a verdant universe bloomed, cold and utterly alone. Where did they go? What happened? Confusion reigned supreme, but one warm hand grasping hers held the cold at bay.
"Sir, he's got a hold of her and he won't let go for nothin'."
"Real touchin', just leave it. Put 'em over there and lets get the hell outta here before we go sprouting extra limbs from all this radiation."
"I don't think it's that kind of radiation, sir."
"Shut the hell up."
After further jostling, familiar sounding machinery roared to life, muted, all around. Jim gripped Sarah's hand for all he was worth, feeling reality come trickling back in a steadily increasing stream.
"Reporting." A pause. "Emperor Valerian! A pleasure, sir." Another pause. "Yes, we have recovered the Queen of Blades and James Raynor and are en route right now. Life signs are solid, almost missed 'em because the psi detector was giving nothing."
Uncomfortable shifting. "Yes sir, they are inert right now. Raynor looks like he's comin' to, though."
Jim listened and learned. I am not letting you go Sarah, hang in there. He wondered if she could hear him, he could not hear anything anymore.
Mengsk Palace - Lower Floors
In a dark meeting room, Tosh stood guard over Nova with one hand pressed to his ear as he listened to the chaotic comms; the ghost lay slumped in a large chair, placed there by Gabriel himself.
Staring down at the unconscious woman gave him chills, to think how close he came to being touched by the artifact as she was, the distance could have been measured in inches; he touched her mind with his own, reassuring himself that all of his psionic talent remained. She was whole, but her mind was a defenseless open book, and it had little to do with her lack of consciousness either.
He considered killing her, an angel of mercy after her power had been ripped away. He would expect her to do the same if their positions were reversed.
Grandma Tosh whispered from beside him, "You leave dat girl be, Gabriel," the old crone admonished, "Dis be de spirits at work. You don't interfere with de work of de spirits, dat be bad juju."
His shoulders sagged slightly as he let go of the power, crushing her mind would have been quick and merciful; but if the spirits willed it, Nova would suffer. Her mind stirred before her body did, and he waited.
Nova opened her eyes, feeling an exhaustion so profound that nothing could compare, it defied explanation; her lips pursed into a frown then, absorbing the unfamiliar surroundings through her helmet and attempting to recall what happened. A moment later, her tired gaze landed on Tosh.
He shifted uncomfortably, listening to her quickening thoughts of confusion and, worse yet, fear. Rather than offer an explanation, he shouldered his rifle and approached, scooping her up in his arms.
"What are you doing?" Nova's voice was a growl, but weak and without threat. How could someone who had no power anymore feel threatening?
"Takin' you to safety, now that there be no more zerg and the coast be clear," he muttered through his mask, voice crackling.
"Why am I so...Empty?" Nova sounded bewildered, and her mind echoed it clear as a bell.
"Be quiet for now girl, need to find us a ride," his suits cloak shimmered around them both. Truthfully, he needed to think while she pieced things together herself, it would be easier that way. That, and if the comms were anything to go by, there was a new Emperor in town; Valerian Mengsk was about to receive some visitors.
Nova fell blissfully silent, though her thoughts began to howl louder than anything; she was working on finding her answers now. Finding a ride was easy work, Tosh slipped into a merc vessel on its way out; even with Nova in his arms, no one noticed them.
He looked outside a small window thoughtfully while listening with both his ears and mind. Mercenaries were being coordinated to rescue people now that the fog was gone, to get them to safe zones and assess damage. In the distance, he saw a perfect cylinder carved vertically through an entire building, the residual energy hanging in the air made his skin crawl.
During the trip Nova finally came to realize what happened, and he was thankful for it. Your power be out there now, girl. Out there in space, somewhere. He whispered into her mind, felt her quiet hopelessness with a level of sympathy he thought was dead and gone.