Bucephalus - Rebel Base
I died fighting the zerg for our people, and you joined them. What have you done? You are a disgrace. Arut's scorn pierced Lasarra, who stared in horror at her dead brother, a dark spine protruding from his forehead.
Brother! This... She paused, eyes narrowing as their surroundings, a formless abyss, seethed. No, you are not Arut. There is no khala here, and my brother was both wise and kind. With alarm, she reached out for the familiar ever-present light and felt nothing, all four of her hearts beat harder.
Silence hung heavy between the two as realization dawned on her: she was trapped. Arut's eyes smiled and blackened, wisps trailing up from them as his skin began to wither and crack.
Your whole misbegotten race will be mine, how does it feel? You will fail them. Amon whispered.
Never! Even if you succeed in destroying me here monster, the khalai will live and fight on! Emboldened, Lasarra reached out desperately, searching for the way out of this nightmare as Amon laughed and the darkness closed in; it felt as though her whole essence was being smothered.
Red coals burned inside the blackened pits of Arut's twisted face. You will be the very first to fall.
There was no way out, only blackness that yawned on in all directions. Arut's visage faded away until all that remained was Amon's gaze; it struck her then, as the darkness crept into her vision and his eyes burned her nerves raw, that he was the darkness. She screamed.
"They are all gone. I can't believe it," Valerian said. Staring down at all his unanswered calls, a multitude of red blinking lights, to the mercenaries and his own men, there could only be one answer as to why no one responded.
Everyone, minus Sarah and the sleeping protoss, stared down at the red buttons with a quiet fearfulness; Sarah eyed Valerian over her shoulder. Her wing blades quivered as she observed the dark patches under his eyes, even the bright gleam of his stormy grey eyes seemed to have developed a dull haze.
Jim jerked in surprise when a delicate-seeming clawed and armored hand grasped his shoulder, "We need to talk," Sarah said, her tone serious.
"My remaining men have secured the rooms adjacent to this one, feel free to use them," Valerian muttered, not looking up.
"Right," Jim frowned, looking over his present company before allowing Sarah to usher him out quickly.
"Letting them out of sight is a bad idea," as soon as the door slid shut, Nova spoke in an accusing tone.
"They been walkin' around this ship long before your pretty ass got on it," Tosh said, eyeing the shorter ghost grimly. "We got much bigger problems than who our allies are girl, focus."
Nova's lip curled, riled over Tosh's demeaning manner, especially in front of Valerian, but he just smiled at her and turned away. Sharply, she looked towards her Prince then, "Valerian, make the call to your captain and get us off this planet. You can keep trying to call people who aren't there anymore from space if you really want to, but the people who remain do not deserve to have this fate because you are stubborn."
"I don't even know where my father is," Valerian murmured, staring down at the console still.
"Your-" Nova paused, eyebrows shooting up as a shock of both surprise and shame struck her; she never told him of what transpired, far too busy shooting down the young man than to do her own job. "I know what happened to Arcturus Mengsk," she said, softer, quieter.
"What?" Valerian's voice sharpened, the prince looking up from the table immediately. "When did you plan on informing me, Agent?"
"Moments prior to the artifact explosion, I discovered the body of Arcturus Mengsk inside of a CMC; his head was shaved," Nova ignored the question, focusing on delivering the information he wanted instead. "I realized Raynor and Kerrigan were walking into a trap then, but it was too late."
"Gabriel," Grandma Tosh, ever present, spoke with a note of urgency from Tosh's side.
Glancing at Valerian and Nova, who were quietly discussing the events somberly, Tosh cautiously turned his head to look the old crone in the eye; the hair at the base of his neck bristled on seeing the old woman so fearful.
"De darkness be here Gabriel! It's grip be tightening on your allies, you de only one who can help dem right now! Look with your eyes, your mind is being deceived!" she urged.
Frowning a degree, Tosh listened to the old woman, concentrating and pushing away the sad and calculating thoughts of his companions and using his eyes. Nova looked bedraggled, even from behind, and Valerian looked like a walking corpse. Their thoughts did not line up with their image, it was true; and he'd almost forgotten the protoss, he turned to look at Lasarra and his eyes widened.
A black tumorous mass covered the protoss' entire face and torso, throbbing and quivering, Gabriel knew fear then. With a cold lump in his stomach, he unclipped the small canister of terrazine he had left and readied himself.
As soon as the door to their room closed, Sarah grasped Jim by his shoulders and spoke, voice sharp and commanding. "Jim, we have to get off Korhal. I don't care if we leave them behind, we need to leave."
"We've been over this Sarah, there is no where for us to go, all we can do is fight." Jim sounded tired, and she perked in surprise when the back of his fingertips caressed her cheek.
Giving herself a mental shake, she glared sternly into his black eyes. "Don't you get it? They are being taken over! What makes you think any of those terrans are special?" She grit her teeth, trying her damndest to get through to the stubborn Jim Raynor, "Every single terran on Korhal belongs to Amon right now, maybe in the whole Koprulu sector, and your friends are on their way too!"
Jim's visage, full of spines, armor and discolored as it was, softened. "Sarah...If this is really the end coming up, I just want you to know that I'm glad that I can be with you for it."
"So you aren't going to fight? James Raynor, giving up?" Her glare hardened, taking a step back from his warm hand.
He chuckled and smiled, shaking his head, "I'll fight to my last breath darlin', if that is what you want. I just wanted you to know that." His smile morphed into a smirk, "let's get back in there and get this done. We leave with them or we leave without them."
As he offered his hand, she clasped hers in it and squeezed. United, they left the room and headed for Valerian's quarters again.
"For what it's worth, I'm glad you are with me too Jim," Sarah murmured.
A familiar canister hiss and clatter caught Nova's attention immediately. Cutting off Valerian mid sentence, she spun around to face Tosh, "What are you doing?" His back was to her and he was facing the protoss, Lasarra.
"De spirits be angry here," he muttered, low and hard. Bolstered by the terrazine, psionic energy pulsed from him and haloed his form as he concentrated, stretching a hand out to Lasarra.
"What is he talking about?" Valerian wondered out loud, looking both confused and alarmed at Nova.
"No idea," she eyed the big man cautiously, frustrated at her closed off state. Nothing could be gleaned by just looking with her eyes, other than his focus was clearly on the sleeping protoss; she supposed it was odd Lasarra had not woken up yet.
"So long as I be breathin', you ain't gonna be layin' your hands on my brothers and sisters," Tosh declared, baring his teeth, and plunged his hand into the black mass.
Your agony will ripple across eternity, everlasting.
No!
Your brethren will join you. Very soon.
I will not bend. The khala is my strength!
A flawed creation, I will take pleasure in dismantling it from the inside out.
Timeless pain coursed through every vein, every molecule, and every moment felt like a piece of eternity; Lasarra wailed in agony, chained in place in an endless black chasm, the khala she prayed to beyond reach, beyond sight.
"She not be alone," a voice, bold and commanding, called.
What?
Eyes wide, Lasarra twisted her head this way and that, trying to find the owner of that familiar voice. Help! I am here!
White noise stabbed at her senses, an unholy shriek of rage. She is mine, terran! You will be too!
"Reach for me, reach!" the voice called, strained sounding.
The pain... Unsure whether her limb was moving or not, Lasarra closed her eyes tight and concentrated on the motion that was natural, she reached.
A hand, four fingers and one thumb, caught a hold of hers tightly. It was a strange sensation, so real even in this hellish mindscape, she cherished the feeling of its calloused warmth; even if it belonged to a terran man.
"Gotcha now. Hang on." Clearly in pain, the terran held tight and pulled hard. Tosh. It was Tosh.
As the burning, shredding agony began to subside, normalcy feeling like a comforting shroud, another hand grabbed hold and brought her journey to a jarring stop. Eyes flying open, Lasarra stared into Arut's cracked and warped visage again.
Enjoy your reprieve, insect. Know the fate that awaits you is as unstoppable as time itself. Amon's voice burned with rage.
"What happened to Lasarra?!"
"What is Tosh doing?!"
Familiar voices, sharp and angry, along with a dizzying torrent of wild thoughts, bombarded her. Eyes opening to the real world, Lasarra found herself standing, one hand clasped tightly around Tosh's. Shaken, she took a moment to block the thoughts of the terrans and then unwound her hand from the spectre's.
"Consider us even now, protoss," Tosh inclined his head slightly, his skin looking pale but otherwise the man gave no indication of the pain he experienced to rescue her.
Touching a hand to her armored chest, Lasarra inclined her head deeply. My people can express thought and emotion so deep, it goes beyond a terrans comprehension... She saw Tosh frown and continued quickly. I want you to know that there is no thanks I could give strong enough to do the word justice. You spared me from a nightmare.
Stepping back, Tosh fell silent. Their moment over, Lasarra looked to see Jim, Kerrigan, Nova and Valerian all paused in their disarray to watch herself and the spectre; they were clearly arguing before. Resolute, she fixed her gaze to Valerian and strode to him.
Valerian Mengsk. We must leave this planet immediately. No one is safe from Amon's influence here, and I believe we may find relief in distance; Gabriel Tosh just spared me the fate of becoming one of the infected. Jim, Nova and Valerian each stirred at the admission, and she felt their fear and doubt. Sarah Kerrigan watched, suspicious.
"I..." Valerian looked down at the table, a look of pure defeat on his features, "will inform the captain at once. We make for space." Lasarra understood then, as thoughts flickered unbidden from their owners, that is what they were arguing about. Jim, Nova, even Sarah were trying to make the stubborn prince budge, but her word broke the dam.
If we are to triumph against Amon, we must marshal what forces remain and protect them for dear life. When he is defeated, your people will be broken from their prisons, Valerian. She assured him as he made the call.
"Captain. Recall all forces on foot around the Bucephalus and evacuate the remainders of the Hyperion and prep the ship for immediate departure. We are leaving," Valerian commanded.
"Yes sir," palpable relief filled Captain Vaughn's voice.
"Finally," Sarah said, crossing her arms and making her way to the view port once again. Being around the terrans, seeing Jim sticking out like a sore thumb, gnawed at her insides. She did not want to look at them anymore.
Augustgrad - Sewers
A tense silence hung over the small camp their procession made for the night. Warfield and Stukov both kept their distance from the shivering and huddled groups of people, not the terrans idea of idealistic saviors.
Leaning against the damp plascrete wall with his arms crossed, Warfield stared off into the dark, diligently keeping guard. Troubled thoughts kept him company; how was Valerian's campaign coming? Were the hybrid being hunted down now? The lack of information irked him.
We could leave, comrade. Stukov, all but eavesdropping, offered. Move much faster than these refugees, leave Valerian to send men to save them, not monsters.
No. Warfield stated firmly, frowning.
Shifting restlessly at the opposite end of the tunnel, Stukov shrugged. Suit yourself.
A sound, high and wild, pitched over the quiet rustling of the refugees like an alarm; a giggle.
Two pairs of eyes looked sharply into the refugees, trying to discern if there was cause for concern.
Soft voices, low and urgent, questioned the owner of the errant noise. Crazed laughter was the response, followed by a violent crunch. Someone screamed and chaos erupted.
"Tate!" Warfield shouted immediately, leaping towards the now stampeding, terrified people.
"Here! I'm here!" Tate was being shoved against the wall by passing bodies, eyes wide with terror.
Baring his teeth, Horus used his size to his advantage and paid the others in kind, muscling his way to the kid and catching his hand roughly. From the corner of his eye, a chilling sight greeted him. A ragged man had pinned a woman to the wall and a seething darkness linked the two. Behind them, eyes glowing, was an approaching Stukov.
Even though he could not see in the dark, Warfield turned and shielded Tate from what was about to happen regardless. There are some things children should not be exposed to, and he placed his palms firmly over the boys ears before Stukov, infested arm distorting grotesquely, sprayed the two infested civilians down with corrosive acid.
He could not protect him from the acrid stench of melted flesh, however.
"We are not out of the woods yet, General." Stukov said in a blunt tone, stepping up beside Horus and his charge and pointing further ahead; where the refugees ran.
An icy ball formed in Warfield's stomach as he looked on. People were coming back, no longer limping, no more crying. Silent.
"Run," he growled, curling his arms around the sobbing Tate and scooping him up. "Run!"
"Run?" Stukov questioned, chasing after the already running Horus. His thoughts were clear: just kill them, kill the infection.
"Not killing them if we can get away safely!" Warfield shouted, clattering down the sewer tunnel and trying to veer back towards the original goal: the Hyperion.
Laughter chased them.
"Where are we going?" Tate, clinging to Warfield tightly, shouted between sobs.
"Same place son," Horus assured him as he eyed a manhole up ahead, consulting his mental map, "a safe place." He shifted Tate into one arm as they charged the manhole, which rested at a four way junction; it seemed to him that the very earth began to tremble, but he attributed it to the rapid running.
Bodies, equal parts laughing hysterically and silent as the dead, poured into sight around two corners of the junction; the other refugees who wandered off, no doubt.
"Stukov!" Warfield shouted harshly, still barreling forwards.
"On it General," Stukov intoned cooly, a spray of acid coating a full group of the infected refugees on Horus' left.
"Hang on kid!" Without waiting for Tate to respond, he let go of him and freed his arms; his charge already clung to him with a death grip, he did not even need to say anything. Arms free and talons stretching outwards, Warfield leaped into the fray and both bowled over and disemboweled everyone within reach in equal measures.
With his second leap he caught hold of the service ladder and flung upwards, punching the manhole clean off and meeting the crisp Korhal night air with a triumphant bellow.
Scrambling upwards with similar grace, Stukov was a moment behind, lobbing another green globule of acid down on the half melted faces of the infested below, already trying to scramble over one another to get up the ladder.
Giving Tate a reassuring pat on the back, Warfield took a breath before taking a quick look at their surroundings to catch his bearings. Heavy scraping noises indicated Alexei was barricading the manhole while he had a chance, allowing for some think time.
"They're gone," Tate gasped and buried his face into the fabric of Horus' clothing, "they're gone..."
Brows furrowing, a familiar sound drew his attention, and soon Horus was staring up at an even more familiar shape in the sky. Gritting his teeth, he cursed under his breath; the silhouette of the Bucephalus, thrusters burning red, was already rising up to atmo. They were leaving the surface and he could guess why.
"It would seem we missed our ride," Alexei pointed out astutely. A heavy slamming noise drew all of their attention and his tone pitched to a more urgent note, "we need to rethink our exit strategy, and not right here."
Horus nodded grimly, curling an arm around Tate again, the boy had almost cried himself to sleep despite the terror and uncertainty of the moment. He started walking at a brisk pace, "make for the nearest news station, keep an eye out for a serviceable ship on the way."
"Good enough," Stukov agreed, matching the quick pace.
Leviathan - Orbit Over Haven
Tychus took care in choosing his landing point on the Leviathan, pointedly avoiding all the exploding, unstable and acid-filled creature warrens and nests that covered the infested ship. An ultralisk looked him in the eye as he brought the small ship in, Zagara's mind was behind that giant glaring orb, he could feel it.
As the ship touched the damp, slick surface of the Leviathan, Tychus grabbed for the nearby ultralisks, pointedly forcing Zagara out of them and securing himself a degree of safety from being stomped on. His face and mind wore a grim mask as the bay door lowered, the musky scent of the swarm and different atmosphere flooding in.
He breathed deep. there was a sense of home to it, even if a pervasive fury thrummed through the entire arrayed swarm, pointed directly at him. "Seems you're in a talkin' mood," he said to a hydralisk in passing, and it hissed back in response.
"Don't you worry, I'm comin'," he grinned.
"He comes, Izsha. His only intent is to destroy us," Zagara hissed, infuriated. With the power of the swarm at her command, Tychus Findlay still dared come on her ship and act like he was the one in control?
"He is a terran," Izsha said patiently, "he will talk. It is their way."
"There is that," Zagara said. "Still, there can only be one outcome to this: Findlay will serve."
It was a matter of minutes before the infested man in question stomped into their room, a disgusted look on his face. "Now I know you didn't come all this way just to kill little old me, so I'm givin' you a chance to speak your peace before I tear your ugly head off, Zigzag," Tychus said.
Zagara bristled with fury for a moment before slowly unwinding, glaring all the while. "We have come to...ask your assistance against Amon," there was real pain in her voice.
"You know what I want," Tychus said immediately.
"Your terms are unacceptable," there was a note of warning in Zagara's voice then, their conversation on thin ice already.
"Tough. Guess I'll just be taking what I want, that's the zerg way, ain't it?" Tychus said smugly, blades clicking and unfurling from their hiding places smoothly.
"Enough of this!" Zagara struck without hesitation, the new Queen of the Swarm's will collided against Findlay's own, a tidal wave against a pebble. "We have evolved as you sat idle, we are not weak. Bend your knee and serve the swarm!"
Tychus staggered and fell to a knee, overwhelmed. Baring his teeth, he fought against the surge of strength as best as he could, but this battle would not last long.
From nowhere, an incredible outpouring of might caught him, reinforcing and supporting. With you. Abathur spoke, exposing his hand.
"About damn time!" Tychus snarled, leaping back to his feet. "I don't think so, Zigzag!"
Reeling back in surprise, Zagara raged in kind, "What is this? Abathur, you deceitful worm! Stand down!"
Ignoring Zagara's demand, Abathur intoned coldly as Tychus strode forwards with murder in his eyes and a grin on his lips. Organism Izsha, contains Queen of Blades memories. Weak. Destroy.
Zagara stood stock still, body quivering as she tried to move. Findlay walked past, eyeing her with an unspoken promise of pain from below; walking straight to Izsha.
"Stop this Abathur," the fleshy automaton remained still and calm. "We are all that stand against Amon, Kerrigan's memories must be preserved if we wish to succeed," helpless and unable to move or fight herself, Izsha watched Findlay's approach.
Tychus' response was quick and brutal. One arching swipe of an arm and Izsha gasped, falling free from the rest of her snakelike body which writhed without her control. Her eyes shut for the last time, silent.
"No!" Zagara screamed, pounding at the mental cage that had been slammed down around her, forcing her to watch as hope was murdered. "You doom us all!"
Tychus looked at the fresh corpse dispassionately before slowly turning towards Zagara, eyes burning a frightful bright orange as he felt for the first time the full reach of the swarm's leader, the full might. Zagara slowly turned to face him, commanded without words; the zerg were above words.
Broodmother Zagara, evolved past boundaries, destroy and repurpose essence. Abathur noted clinically.
Tychus sidled up beside the broodmother, physically dwarfed, yet triumphant. "No," he said.
Strongly advise destruction. Abathur pressed, the sluglike creatures power pressing into his brain, threatening.
"Shut it Abby, you still get what you want," Tychus growled, bristling at the silent threat. Abathur had the power, he could backstab him freely now; but moments passed and the creature refrained.
Zagara was struggling to speak, mouth pinned shut, mind squeezed in a vice; Findlay loosened his grip marginally. "Amon has no allies, only slaves. Have you learned nothing?" She spoke, perfectly still and seething.
"I don't care," Tychus said, cold. His eyes roamed the shape of the broodmother, the creature had changed physically since their last entanglement; the great crest on her head had broadened, and there were numerous new spines and spikes all over her form.
"We evolve," she whispered. Purple blood oozed beneath her pointed feet and pooled against Tychus' boots.
Another sharp gesture and Zagara screamed, the sound chasing after the loud snap of armored carapace being sliced through. "You get to stick around and watch me get my way," Tychus snarled, kicking her severed leg harshly. "Don't you forget who won, bitch."
Zagara slowly lowered to the floor as Findlay exited the chamber, her blood mingling with Izshas. "I have failed you, my Queen."
In a hurry, Tychus approached the small terran ship with a feeling of relief. "Leading the swarm or no, give me cold steel over slime and orifices any day." He carefully pressed his palm against the bay door, blinking in confusion as innumerable alien sets of eyes looked in every other direction in thousands of different places. Giving his head a shake, he focused on himself as the ramp lowered, getting his bearings.
It was in that moment of confusion that Ariel appeared. "Another terran leading the swarm. I admit Tychus, you have surprised me," the small shape of the former woman stayed well out of arms reach, respectful of newfound power.
"What are you doin' here?" Tychus eyed her with distaste before familiar movement inside the ship caught his eye.
"I took the liberty of refurbishing your ship," she inclined her head and gestured with a clawed finger.
"Sure," he snorted, "just like you woulda tore it down if I lost."
"You are correct," she admitted, unable to lie. "Such is the way of the swarm."
"Eh, whatever. Stay out of my ship," he said, turning away and striding into the newly creep covered interior.
"We shall guard you," Ariel said before the ramp sealed him in darkness. All of her infested creations were burrowed into the flesh of the Leviathan around him and mingling with the ill tempered ultralisks.
His boots came off first, bare feet sinking into the spongy carpeting which clung at his flesh. "Mmm," he intoned, feeling that familiar charge of power as he fed. "Creep eh?" he spoke to himself quietly as he knelt down, pressing his hands into the creep and gorging further.
He eyed the sealed cage that housed the former Jayce. "So, old Zigzag evolved to gain more control, more power." He smirked. "Who says I can't, Abby? No one, that's who." In a matter of minutes Jayce was freed from her prison and standing in the creep, feeding silently.
Shucking off the remains of his spectre outfit, mostly tearing it to shreds, he grasped her malformed shoulder and firmly turned her to face him, returning her unblinking stare evenly. "Seems I've got some time on my hands, let's chat sugar."
Evolution, the ultimate weapon of the zerg war machine. With all the assimilated minds under his control now, it was a simple matter to reach out and grasp that power; the creep twisted and bubbled around his feet, reaching upwards and cloying at him obscenely as green liquid started to pool. He left his body behind as it was encased and submerged, chasing after the light.
It was different now, entering her mind, less jarring; he compared it to soaring through a planet's atmosphere and coming in for a landing. Again, a warm sense of peace descended upon him, but now there was no denying his connection to the swarm; he could even lord over it here. Whether Jayce still had ultimate control of her mindscape or not remained to be seen, but he had a plan now.
Like a comet, he launched towards her current location. A sizable garage, attached to the already familiar farmhouse, became rapidly larger until he felt and heard his foot collide with plascrete, letting out a solid thunk.
A familiar voice called out immediately, all business but warm, "Hey dad! Can you pass me the number 7 clamp? Found the problem, Donald tore the pipe clean off again." An agitated huff from underneath a piece of farm equipment, the engine of a robo harvester he guessed, caught his attention. "That man does not treat his equipment proper!"
Smirking, he casually grabbed what he guessed to be the requested pipe clamp and placed the tool in her reaching hand. He felt and saw her arm stiffen as he spoke in a teasing tone, "I ain't your daddy, sugar, but I could be." Apparently she was surprised further, because a sharp clunk and hiss of pain signaled her head colliding with something.
"Oh! Ow. I'm not sure what hurts me more," she weakly tugged away the clamp and pulled it out of sight before slowly crawling out from under the engine while rubbing her forehead, "my head or your joke."
"Why, I happen to possess a great sense of humor," he smiled and offered her a hand up.
"It seems so," she smiled shyly and accepted his hand, letting him pull her to her feet easily. "What can I do for you Mr. Findlay?"
His hand remained clasped around hers, enjoying her soft warmth; it may be gone soon. "Just Tychus," he said, thumbing her hand and watching apprehension flicker over her features. "Listen, there's somethin' I gotta tell you, and it ain't gonna make much sense, but I can't go on lyin' to you so I want you to listen to the whole thing. You scan me?" It was almost funny, watching her expression bounce between confusion and nervousness as he went on.
After a moments pause, she nodded, "Yeah, I'm listening." He let her hand go then and took a half step back, conscious of not crowding her.
He looked her right in the eye and said "You know me."
"Er," she fluttered, shifting uncomfortably, "well, as much as I can from meeting you yesterday, sure."
"No." He frowned, putting in a touch of easily achieved assertiveness into his tone, "I said listen, didn't I?"
"Okay," she held her hands up, placating, before crossing them over her chest. "Listening."
"This whole place," he made a quick sweeping gesture over their surroundings, "everything and everyone in it, is in your head."
Her brows knit together and upwards, eyes wide and blinking owlishly.
"You and I go back a ways, you had an accident," he said, keeping his tone even and calm. No aggressive actions or intonations, as lamb-like as he could manage.
Her feet shifted, though she held her body still, the threat of imminent flight clear. "You are scaring me a bit right now."
"Head injury," he pressed, "and a coma the docs can't get you out of."
"Wait. Just stop a second," she held a hand up to interrupt. "You are telling me I am on a bed somewhere, a part of a world I don't remember, and you and me are what, some kind of item?"
He'd been on the receiving end of some you are crazy looks, and this was another one of those times. "Yeah, basically," he shrugged.
"Prove it," she challenged, voice sharp and eyes shifting to a glare. "Prove it or I run and you end up our planet's first nut job."
"It's your show here," he looked around pointedly, "I can't do nothin', but I wager you can do just about anythin' you want." A tickle at the base of his skull, a crawling under his flesh, and he knew otherwise, Jayce's little world was malleable to him now; a card to play for later, if need be.
"Sure," her voice had enough sarcasm in it to leave him frowning, "that's why I'm not on some paradise island or flying around doing whatever I please."
He had a hunch, and like most of his hunches, he rolled with it. "You don't believe you can, why would you try?" He chuckled as if it were obvious, "Do somethin' small, somethin' you know you can't do."
"Such as?" Her arms crossed tighter, tentatively humoring him even though her feet were slowly inching her away.
"Lift this here engine," he reached up and gave the suspended machine a pat.
"And break my back?" she said, incredulous, "I don't think so."
"I can lift it, I got your back." he smirked, fully ready to cheat.
"Like hell you can," she gestured at him as though he were some blowhard, "that is several" he gripped the machine tightly in both hands, "hundred," her voice faltered as his muscles bulged, "pounds." He let out a grunt and set the machine down to the ground as the chain hooks that held it up fell away. "You can," her voice trailed off into a squeak.
He chuckled darkly, feeling the power seething under his skin, ready to bring chaos, before forcing it back down and looking at her intently. "Yup. If I'm right, so can you with them little noodle arms," he teased, trying to keep it lighthearted.
She breathed, clearly weighing the options. Maybe she still did not believe, but she might have been thinking twice about trying to run away at this point. He let her bump him out of the way and reach for handholds on the machine while he repositioned himself behind her, their bodies almost touching; he would act as her safeguard.
"I can't believe I'm humoring you," she muttered, brows furrowing as she clamped her hands down on the cold steel and let out a little grunt of effort as she began.
It was not budging. Not wanting to interfere completely, Tychus leaned down and spoke into her ear, "You can do it, I see you doin' it already." Her eyes were closed, she could not see the lie. "Your daddy wants a pair of mans arms helpin' him here, don't he?" He prodded, another hunch, and was rewarded with her baring her teeth.
Bingo. "That's why you got all sad about it and try so hard," he smiled, "I know you better 'n you do, sugar."
She opened her eyes, glaring, and watched him pull his hands away from the machine; she was holding it, without effort, inches from the ground. Her gasp was swallowed by the loud metallic slam of the engine hitting the plascrete, "You...you're right," she whispered, her voice hitting a delirious note, "I don't believe it."
"Better believe, sweetheart." Cautiously, he closed his hands around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Doc didn't want me tellin' you, didn't think you could handle the knowing. I know better, so don't go provin' me wrong now."
She stared ahead woodenly, "How are you here? Tell me everything."
"Everything is a whole lot, and I ain't got much time right now," he reasoned, watching as reality quivered at the corners of his eyes, tenuous at best.
"Why?" she asked sharply, interrupting him. "What is going on?"
"Slow down now," he turned her around to face him, saw her pale features and felt a pang of sadness; there was an element of happiness he saw in her that he doubted he would see again, but this was for the best. "I ain't gonna leave you hangin'."
"Alright. Okay," her throat constricted, voice warbling, and she blinked a few more times than normal. Reality steadied.
"Had to pull some favors to get the tech to talk to you like this, big ones. Ain't easy when you're an outlaw you know," he smiled.
"An outlaw?" Her eyes widened as though that was the biggest revelation yet.
"Ex-con, renegade, so on," he rattled off the titles as if they were badges of honor. "Don't go givin' me that look, you are a rebel yourself, you know," he chided.
"A rebel, hooked up with an outlaw, scariest man I ever saw and..." she glanced toward the hand that had PAIN written on it again.
"Look at you," he patted her shoulders proudly, "sounds like you remember me already. What else you remember about old Tychus?" He prodded, mindful of not prodding any further than verbally.
"Nothing," she shook her head, a sad look on her face. "It's all just a bit hard to believe," she paused, looking down and then back up at him sheepishly, "especially the you and me part."
"What's so hard about that? I am charming and handsome," he said, mock offended.
She huffed, the corner of her lip twisting upwards in good humor, "You look like you ate a penal colony."
"Well being younger didn't make you any less rude," he frowned.
"Sorry," she shrugged with a smile, not sorry at all.
Silence hung between them for a few moments, he let her digest the situation some. Finally, he let his hands drop off her slender shoulders and spoke in a low, sincere tone. "I will gladly let you get to know me again."
She nodded. "How did we meet?"
He grinned immediately, sometimes the truth was the best. "I pinched your ass and you threw a wrench at me."
Her laughter, though short, tinkled and warmed his insides. "I believe that."
"Let's start over," he offered his hand for a shake.
"Okay," she said, letting his hand encase hers, fingertips curling between his. "You have to care if you went through all this trouble to see me again."
"I do care," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face slowly, "very much."
When she looked up from their entwined hands he became acutely aware of a shift in the tension, her skin heating up under his.
"Why don't we go somewhere more comfortable?" He said, looking over her grease stained coveralls and feeling a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth; he wouldn't mind ripping those off.
"Why not?" Her voice came out breathy and their surroundings shifted, rippling dreamily until new colors washed over the area around them.
"Heh," he said, looking at the now familiar inside of her childhood home. "What happened to that paradise island? Think outside the box a little." He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.
"You're right, why settle for less?" Emboldened, her eyes brightened as she dug into her imagination. Colors blurred around them once more.
His boots sunk into warm sand, a quick glance around revealed ocean for miles in one direction and what was essentially a palace laid out over a jungle in the other. "Whoa," he grinned, "now we're talkin'! Where's the drinks?"
Her hand squeezed his, attracting his attention back where she wanted it. Jayce no longer wore dirty old coveralls, but another brightly patterned skirt and a t-shirt that revealed her smooth, pale belly. "Tell me about you," she insisted.
He could not help but licking his lips, watching her cheeks color in response. A bit conservative, but he decided the look suited her well; plus, surprises were always fun. He grinned hugely and with characteristic boldness, planted both his hands on her rump. "Why don't I tell you, about you?"
She did not jump at the feel of his hands, only daintily curling her fingertips over his arms in response. "You said I'm younger."
"I don't know how old you were before," he admitted, subtly tugging her in closer and ratcheting up the tension, "not polite to ask. But yeah, seems you took a little trip back in time," he smiled, thumbing the small of her back and eliciting a sharp breath. "Softened your edges some, sure, but you're still the same little fireball."
"I want that back." Her demeanor shifted to serious in a heartbeat, dispelling some of the tension as her fingertips curled at his skin.
"All in good time sweetheart, you ain't been here long." Determined, he pulled her in flush against him, and this time she gasped.
"This is..." her voice went high, a note he'd like to chase after.
"Too fast?" he questioned, slowly lifting her upwards to her tip toes. "Maybe, but it's hard to know so much about you and what you like best," he lifted her until their lips were almost touching, her breath tasted like mint. "We didn't exactly put on music and light candles."
Her voice dropped so quiet he almost missed it when she whispered, "Show me what I like."
All his blood dropped south, but he managed a quick reply, "Yes ma'am," before attacking her lips.
Her hands began a quick, desperate search for handholds as, still lip-locked, he turned and steadily walked towards the carpeting of grass a short distance away. Sand was bad for their upcoming activities and, from the painful throbbing he felt, they would not make it much farther than that.
She settled for clinging to his sides as they toppled to the grass, lips parting with gasps for breath. With her pinned neatly under him, squirming and gasping as she was, he let out a pleased groan of his own.
"Been waiting a long time for this," he said.
"Has it been so long?" she quirked a brow.
"Few months anyway, feels like ages." he said. Close call, watch it big dog.
Pressing his hips firmly against hers, they both groaned throatily. It was a shame, he thought, that those swollen red lips couldn't get kissed proper like this. Her skirt came off first, his practiced hands taking over when hers fumbled.
She let out a breathy laugh when he waggled his eyebrows and tossed the garments away with an exaggerated gesture. "You won't be needing these here at all," he said.
Exposed, legs already spread wide by his hips, she stared at his pants while he stared back in kind.
"Let me," she insisted when he hooked a thumb in the edge of his pants, her hands sliding over his granite-like chest and giving a small push.
"Mmm, gettin' pushy already. Daddy likes," he grinned, yielding and sliding away until they faced one another on their knees.
Desiring very much to tear the rest of his clothes off and get to business, it was a pleasant torture to watch her curl her fingertips in the band of his pants and stare him in the eye as she slid them down. Her fingertips felt cool in comparison to his burning skin and the look she gave him, lips half parted, nearly made his composure dissolve.
Closing his eyes, he took a very deep breath as her hands shifted back to his hips. "I ain't a patient man," he warned.
His eyes snapped open when a warm wetness touched his oversensitive flesh. She had leaned down and gave the tip of his manhood a taste.
"It's big," she whispered, licking her lips.
With a growl, he fisted a hand in the hair at the base of her neck, curled his free hand under her ass and lifted her upwards with a quick snap. "Everything about me is big," he said.
Her eyes widened to the size of moons, mouth hanging open in surprise as his searing hot manhood planted firmly between her legs and throbbed.
Straightening, listening to her hissing breath as his shaft rubbed all along her sensitive lips, he pulled her head back just enough to make her back arch and press her breasts up like a gift. A gift he had every intention of accepting.
Her arms laid directly atop his for balance, hands grasping at his skin as she devolved into a writhing, begging, sexual creature.
"Don't you worry," he murmured, eyes agleam, "I ain't ever left a lady wanting." Hunching forwards, it was a delicate balancing act to keep their privates just touching while his lips closed around a breast and his tongue lathed at it.
Gasping, her hips were jerking and squirming, trying to coax him inside, seeking release; her fingertips rigidly curled into the short hairs at the base of his neck, sending electricity down his spine. He pressed hard forward with his hips, forcing more breathy cries as he gave her other breast attention.
"Please!" she finally cried, the begging music to his ears.
Giving her breast a firm nip, he let it go and leaned up, surveying his handy work.
Her body shook, sweat and his own saliva gleaming on her pale skin; but the best part, he thought, was how her cunt pulsed with her heartbeat and his cock was covered in her juices. If he had to make new memories with her, this one was never going to be forgotten.
Another quick series of gestures and she found herself pinned between his weight and the cool tickle of the grass, her knees held to her chest by his own.
Planting his hands on either side of her head, he held her gaze and in one long, slow motion sheathed inside of her.
They both let out low groans.
"Mine," he growled, deep in his chest, giving one hard thrust. It felt like heaven, and the sound she made in response spurred him on, chasing after those sweet cries and the inevitable climax that followed.
"I'm yours! Oh god, yours!" she shouted without reserve, this was her paradise was it not?
"So close," he could feel it deep inside, her muscles spasming and pulling him in deeper. Then he stopped.
Her dismayed cry sent a savage surge of pleasure straight to his cock. Grabbing a fistful of her hair once more, he jerked her head up, forcing her eyes to open again. They were flashing with fury.
"Say my name!" He commanded in a roar, grinning and forcing his hips perfectly still.
A look of offense flickered across her face before giving in to her need. "Tychus," she whispered.
"Louder," his grin broadened.
"Tychus!" she snapped then, teeth bared.
He let out a dramatic moan and gave one hard thrust before holding still again.
Casting aside her last scrap of decency as she understood his intent, she shouted his name without pause and he thrust in time with each cry until she was babbling incoherently. He let out a shout as he climaxed shortly after her own, fists curling into grass and soil as stars erupted behind his eyes.
It was all he could do to angle himself to the side so he did not collapse on top of her, her legs springing forwards and laying dead in the grass.
Both lay there panting and coming down from the high, staring up at the sky.
"Wow," she said in a dreamy voice after a while, her hand clumsily looking for his.
Turning his head to look over at the perfect mess he made, he saw her searching hand and curled his arm around her instead, bringing her close and letting her use his arm as a pillow. "Mmm. I miss you sex is the best," he grinned, though the lie rested on his conscience now with the many others.
Pressing against his side, she rested her head on his chest and smiled, skin still flushed. A pleased "Mmm," was her response.
"Ah, you had to pick a beach." He shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of the invading sand despite having tried to avoid it, "there's sand in places it just don't belong."
Their laughter mixed together and for the first time in far too many years, he enjoyed the feeling of a woman curled up against him.
Still, there was more to say. Brushing his fingers through her soft messy hair, he murmured, "I got one last bit of business to take care of out there, then I can be with you full time." Abathur couldn't listen in here, his own creation worked against him now.
"Business?" Nuzzling his bicep with her cheek, she gave him a skeptical look. "Safe business, I hope?" she asked tentatively, unsure of the big picture now.
"I'll be fine and so will you," he smiled, confident, "but it is bad business. I got a plan though, so don't you worry your pretty head about it none." Reaching over, he brought the side of her head up and gave it a kiss. Abathur had him at theoretical gunpoint, and Tychus Findlay never took kindly to that.
"I wish I could help," she admitted, turning to press her warm lips against his jaw.
"Nah, this ain't somethin' you'd involve yourself in normally anyway sugar." He let out a slow sigh, looking up at the sun and lazy fluffy clouds she imagined up. "One last mess to clean up, then I take you and I far away," he chuckled, "keep dreaming up places like this, and I won't mind staying in your head forever."
They lazed on their sandy patch of grass together, talking.
With the remaining zerg collected from Haven, the swarm began to move ponderously towards its next destination: Korhal, again.
Void Seeker - Deep Space
Zeratul stared intently at the vast expanse of space blurring by before him. Artanis, I pray I am not too late with my message. Old friend, you must be ready to fight - to convince our people of the right course of action.
A red light blinked, signalling for his attention. Anomaly detected.
What is this? He stared at the digits flying across the ships heads-up display. These are familiar energy readings, could it be?
Angling the Void Seeker towards the source, it was not long before he saw the winged glowing shape blooming upwards from a small asteroid. Another Phoenix creature, xel'naga creation! I no longer believe in chance; this is a sign I must pursue, but at what cost?
With due caution, the phoenix creatures absorbed protoss and zerg matter without choosing sides, he guided the delicate looking relic ship to follow.
I armed the Queen of Blades, readied her to fight as the prophecy foretold. I must trust that will be enough, that you will make the right choice without my guidance, Artanis. Just another burden to bear, how much more weight could he handle?
Energy readings leaped to incredible proportions as with his own two eyes he observed a shimmering tear in reality form before the creature as it paused, allowing it to form fully before smoothly gliding through it.
Without allowing himself time to second guess, he angled the Void Seeker appropriately and urged the swift machine into the breach as it started to seal shut, there was no time to delay if he wanted the answer to this mystery at last. En taro Tassadar! He shouted, shielding his eyes against the light as both he and his ship disappeared into the breach.
A warp prism, cast into space long ago, finished recording the event along its silent journey; the Golden Armada was not far now.