Bucephalus - Korhal Low Orbit
Familiar red lights blinked and combat sirens droned continually as another volley of attacks rocked the ship; the Bucephalus' return fire reducing another wraith fighter to a cloud of burning space junk. From the ground to low orbit, they had been hounded continually by a newfound enemy.
"Where are they coming from?!" Valerian snarled, banging his fist to the desk in a display of frayed composure.
Incoming transmission.
"Me, princess." Mira Han, one cybernetic eye glowing red and one a glassy black, appeared on the vidscreen and winked.
Eyes widening, Valerian's back went ramrod straight and he blurted, "Mira! Stand down immediately!" archly.
Raynor sidled up beside Valerian and eyed the display warily, giving the distraught prince a pat on the shoulder. "Don't be a fool son, that ain't Mira."
Mira's cherub smile held no warmth, no Mira. "Always so sharp James. You know who wins this, it is an easy number game. My terms are simple: power down your weapons and join us in welcoming Amon." There was a feverish undertone to her voice, a disturbing implanted fanaticism.
Jim regarded his former ally evenly before speaking, "It'll be a cold day in hell when that happens darlin'."
"Such a shame, we will simply destroy you then. Farewell James, do say goodbye to Matthew for me." Mira smiled, a tight line of anger, before cutting the comm.
"They can't fight us in space and expect to win." Valerian frowned, looking at the arrayed battlefield. The pink-tipped wraiths could not hope to hold their own, it was hardly their specialty; they were throwing away their lives.
Jim took measure of the forces pitted against their one ship, tiny little dots that were swarming like insects just out of range of their much bigger dot. There was only a few numbers that mattered when coming against the strongest battlecruiser the terrans ever made; he cringed. "Jackson's Revenge can. Get us out of here Valerian."
The legendary pirate ship had yet to show itself, and if they were lucky that would not change.
"No," Valerian said, gripping the edge of the desk as another coordinated attack jostled the ship.
It took a second to process the answer. "What?" Jim, Tosh and Sarah all blurted at once.
"We will land on Sky Shield and get its orbital defenses working, a new base of operations safe from Amon." Valerian's tone brooked no arguments, the princes mind was already made up.
"No one is safe from Amon," Sarah said cooly, looking at Valerian from across the table and through the display.
He seemed affected by her gaze, though to not know how affected precisely set her teeth on edge. "Perhaps," he said, more cautious, "but this is our best chance at putting up a fight now. We don't know the state of the sector; I fear Korhal is not the only planet that is under Amon's influence. Moebius was everywhere."
Sarah gave him a small nod. "You are finally seeing the gravity of the situation. Good," she said.
"Sky Shield then," Tosh said, frowning.
As the Bucephalus shifted course, guns devastating any fighter that dared inch within reach, their luck ran out. "Oh no," Jim said, watching a familiar shape appearing from warp.
"Captain Vaughn knows what he is doing," Valerian asserted, though his white-knuckled grip on the table suggested he was not comfortable with the odds.
"Death is kinder than what Amon plans for us," Sarah murmured, watching as the Jackson's Revenge hulking black form entered combat maneuvers, supported by Mira's wraiths, against their lone battlecruiser.
Jim made no apologies for walking around the table and sealing his hand firmly in Sarahs, the couple silent as they watched their fate unfold.
Tosh and Lasarra exchanged glances. For her part, the willowy protoss came to stand at the table and watch. My life for Aiur. She intoned somberly.
Sarah bristled, chitinous hair clattering as the overcharged weaponry of the pirate ship peppered their own. There had to be a way out of this, her eyes half closed as she pulled at the recent memory of the Sky Shield battle, when she was still a god coming to cut down the wicked. "Jackson's Revenge fought the swarm at Sky Shield," her eyes opened.
"What about it?" Valerian cried, muscles straining as he barely kept himself from face planting into the desk from an especially vicious hit.
"Mutalisks damaged it heavily," her lips spread into a wide, vicious grin. "Tell your captain to stop running, Valerian. Fight them!"
"You're crazy! We could possibly escape and you want to throw that aw-" Valerian's eyes were wide with the fear of death.
"Do it!" Jim shouted, anchored by his fingertips buried to the knuckle in the desk. If Sarah saw a way, he was committed.
"Captain!" Valerian shouted to the open comm with the bridge, "you heard her!"
"Yes sir," Vaughn's tone of voice suggested what he thought about it, but he was nothing if not loyal.
The Bucephalus turned to face its foe.
"Jackson's Revenge is prepping to fire its Yamato Cannon," a navigator dutifully announced their upcoming deaths.
Jim blinked in surprise, watching the two ships ponderously spinning towards one another in space. He smiled then, the Bucephalus was turning faster.
Captain Vaughn seemed to see the same thing. "Prepare to answer them in kind!" he shouted, seizing their only chance. Whoever fired first would win, both ships were injured enough the first blow from either heavy hitter would be the last.
Lasarra closed her eyes and touched the khala, the blaring sound and terror of the moment fading away. At least, in the end, she would join her people. There was comfort to be taken in that.
Tosh blocked away the more panicked thoughts of those on the ship, focusing intently on the image of the two ships turning and the confidence of those in his current company.
"He's going to fire early," Jim murmured. The captain of the Jackson's Revenge saw what was happening too; controlled by Amon or not, he was no fool.
"Steady," Vaughn commanded with a proper captains composure, his crew drawing comfort from it.
White hot light flooded the view ports as the concentrated nuclear blast of the Jackson's Revenge launched. Jim shouted a battle cry that the others joined in on, everyone toppling to the ground as the blast hit. The Bucephalus did not fire.
A piece of the Bucephalus' wing floated away as Vaughn lifted himself from the floor, shouting "Now! Fire now!"
Given precious extra seconds to aim, the Bucephalus took its turn. Blinding light flared for a second time and the ship shuddered upon firing its Yamato Cannon.
"Connected!" The first navigator to regain eyesight shouted and a collective roar of triumph blared through every nook and cranny of the ship as the image of Jackson's Revenge heaved into two jagged halves. They had won.
Taking a moment to catch his breath and regain his composure, Valerian took stock of the damage received and did not like the look of it. "Emergency landing procedures captain," he ordered calmly. It was a wonder the ship was still flying, and now that the firing had died down, the injured ship struggled and chugged with its reduced thrusters.
A cautious sigh escaped Jim, shoulders sagging in relief. "Good call darlin'," he acknowledged the stone-faced Kerrigan, squeezing her hand. Though her expression remained still, she squeezed back.
As soon as they made their emergency landing on Sky Shield, which was closer to crashing than anyone wanted to admit, Jim remarked sourly, "This place is trashed."
"Sorry," Sarah said, remembering the rush of flooding over the platform as a thousand fangs and claws.
"We must make due with what we have." Valerian rubbed his eyes, they felt like sandpaper under their lids.
"Whole lot of nothin' right now Junior," Jim said, gesturing to the ruined platform haplessly. Did they even have the equipment and manpower to make any defenses operational?
Their collective brooding was interrupted when Nova, absent for the entire engagement, burst into the room with her hands full.
"Nova!" Valerian said, surprised. "Where were-"
"We are under psychic attack," Nova spoke over Valerian bluntly and pressed a small earpiece into his hand. "Put this on quickly. All of your men outside the door are resocs, they don't appear affected at all. We need to capitalize on this advantage." She dutifully handed the ear pieces out.
Psi screens, Jim realized as he scrutinized the small devise he had been handed. "Good find, suppose it should've been obvious."
"I know," Nova muttered, eyeing Tosh for a split second. She put the psi screen on and released the thought: why didn't he realize this first?
"We won't be able to hear Lasarra with these on," Valerian cast an apologetic look to the protoss. When he turned the psi screen on, relief washed over him. He nearly gaped; all the composure slips, the depressive thoughts and the bone-deep weariness, lessened to negligible amounts in a heartbeat. "Wow," was all he managed.
"I will speak for the protoss," Tosh said, waving off an offered ear piece. "Amon can't see me."
"Alright then," Valerian said. "Jim, Nova, Sarah... I would appreciate your assistance with getting everything up and running. We are still under attack by Mira's forces, time is of the essence and it would be foolish to not use all resources at hand."
Sarah perked in surprise, but complied. Jim followed Sarah and Nova wondered why he even asked.
Tosh was watching the small group crowd over the table and begin to make due with what they had. It was an odd sight, he thought, terrans and former terrans together like this. "Strange times," he muttered.
Who is she? Lasarra's voice brought him out of his people watching prematurely.
Arching a brow, he turned to look at what Lasarra was referencing, eyes widening when he realized where the protoss' glowing gaze was: Grandma Tosh. Cautiously, he took their conversation above what their companions could eavesdrop on. You see her? This be Grandma Tosh, she helped me save you. She is always with me.
Lasarra, fully focused on this discovery, was not trying to hide anything, tilting her head this way and that. I have never seen such a thing. The Khalai protoss speak with our ancestors through the khala; that a terran is capable of similar is incredible! Reaching out, she attempted to touch the psionic creation.
Small and aged-looking, it came as a great surprise when the little woman spun to face her; a withered hand clenching around her wrist, very much corporeal. "Fool," Grandma Tosh grinned.
No! Lasarra shouted in alarm as the apparition disappeared, a blackened hand mark on her flesh where it touched. Her sharp gesture, coiling backwards in horror, began to draw eyes. Pain blossomed in her arm as she brought it to her chest protectively, and a pervasive fury began to burn hot in her blood. Oh, no, no, no!
"What is happening Tosh?!" Jim snapped, tugging off his psi screen and rushing forwards, lack of information kept him from touching Lasarra as she collapsed to her knees in a shaking heap.
The Khala... she whispered in horror, hands frantically reaching for her nerve cords and coiling her fingers through them. The pain and anger seeped into her mind like a toxin, blooming outwards through the most sacred of bonds and defiling it, and Amon's triumphant laughter in her head fueled her terror. The khala! she screamed.
"She yelled about the khala! It is all she be saying." Tosh, confused and worried, hung back as well. What had happened between her and the spirit? The hand print on her arm did not go unnoticed.
Clenching his teeth, Jim knelt beside Lasarra and watched as the light began to fade in her eyes. The protoss was writhing on the spot and tugging at her nerve cords as though they were on fire. "If I'm wrong right now, please forgive me," he whispered. There was no time for deliberation over this. Shoving her hands aside, he grabbed a fistful of her nerve cords and took one clean swipe.
Stunned silence filled the room as Lasarra's severed nerve cords fell to the ground like a heap of dead snakes, purple blood splattering the clean floor.
Shaking and touching at the back of her head, which was now bleeding profusely, Lasarra's voice came out tearful with emotion as she looked at the blood on her fingertips. He's taken them. I failed them. By the Gods, James Raynor, he took the khala!
"She needs medical attention," Nova reported tersely, having come to squat on the other side of the protoss.
"I will accompany her, keep watch," Tosh said as Valerian called in one of the few medics they had left.
"Why should we let you go with her? You were the one with her when this happened!" Sarah growled, wing blades trembling in anger, fury directed at Tosh now.
"Sister, you be givin' me more credit than I deserve if you think I can corrupt something like the khala," Tosh said, oozing sarcasm.
"He's right, he's right Sarah," Jim's tone was placating as he helped pull the protoss onto a quickly supplied stretcher. "Let 'em go." He ran a hand through his hair as the door sealed shut, attempting to absorb the enormity of what just happened. He just severed a protoss. The khalai might be lost.
"This is bad news. If Amon can corrupt the khala, and I hope that is not what Lasarra was saying...what would stop him from taking the zerg?" Valerian wondered out loud, he only understood the enormity of one of these terrible things. He turned his psi screen back on, face pale.
Sarah's focus shifted from the door to Valerian, and her tone came out a touch haughty. "Corrupt one protoss and you have access to the khala, they are all equal. The zerg do not work that way, you must crush the leader if you want to lead. We are not so weak."
"Never thought I'd say it, but I sure hope whoever is left in charge has what it takes," Jim muttered, fitting his psi screen back on.
Looking away from the remaining group, out the view port and to the ruins they landed in, Sarah reached with her mind and felt nothing; a painful level of normalcy she had not experienced since being a little girl. "She has to."
UNN Headquarters - Augustgrad
"I'm hungry," Tate said as soon as they stepped through the large glass doors of the UNN Headquarters, rubbing at his tired eyes with grubby hands.
"Probably something to eat inside, don't worry." Warfield gave the boy a reassuring pat on the back and put him down to his feet, freeing up his hands. Getting here had taken some time, but aside from a high level of air traffic their trip was dull. Hopefully it would remain as such.
"Perhaps we can make contact with your allies here, if the equipment is in tact," Alexei said, following along and looking at the luxurious surroundings; the Universal News Network was a successful business and anyone who entered this building was made to know it immediately.
"I didn't choose a news station for no reason Alexei," Horus said in a sly tone, smiling as he walked to the building map displayed on a wall beside the welcoming counter.
Alexei chuckled, "Of course."
Their new challenge unfolded before them, and Warfield frowned. "Finding the signal room is a whole other matter, however." The building was a maze, and he almost groaned in frustration. Who knew how many infected people could be holed up in here.
Standing close to Horus' side, Tate said "I know where it is," with great certainty in his tone.
"How does a young man like yourself come about knowing that?" Alexei wondered out loud.
Tate's voice was somber, "Field trip."
"Fair enough. Lead on son," Warfield said quickly, trying to distract him.
Before long they found themselves in front of a sealed door. Tate tugged at the handle, "This is the room but the door is stuck." Lacking height, he did not notice the welds at the top.
There was the faint odor of corpse stench, sweet enough to make Warfield swallow at saliva before reminding himself it was very much a stench, that emanated from the door.
Been dead a while, looks like they were sealed in. Alexei noted privately, watching Tate tug at the door and jiggle the handle with increasing desperation.
Horus placed his hand on the kid's shoulder and gently pulled him away; he couldn't smell what was in there, that much was clear. "Tate, son, go to that lunch room we passed. Get yourself something to eat while we deal with this."
At the mention of food, his empty stomach gurgled loudly. "Okay," Tate said, leaving the two older men at a nearly running pace.
Wedging the tip of a talon into the door frame, Warfield slowly sliced through the hasty weld, taking his time. He waited for Tate to be out of sight before speaking. "I got a question for you, Alexei," he said.
"Go ahead comrade," Stukov watched intently, it was a job for one.
"Why did you stay behind?" Another weld crumbled away.
"Too big of a mercenary presence near my position," Alexei droned dully.
Glancing over his shoulder at the malformed infested man, Warfield gave the door one good tug and pulled it from its hinges, releasing the old corpse smell in force. "There are officially two zerg left on this planet, you and me. If you are going to lie to me, then we are far from brothers."
Alexei's expression twisted, scowling with what remained of his face. "Narud," he said, full of venom.
"That bigshot egghead that got us past Sky Shield?" Setting the door aside, the two filtered into the room and began to collect the corpses. Several UNN members, all starved and withered, were laying on the floor. Not violent, Warfield noted, but far from a good death.
"The same, that bastard is not who you think either," Stukov said, helping shift the corpses from their room to another one, out of sight of Tate.
"Care to explain?" Warfield questioned, giving the equipment a quick look over. Everything was in tact, why did these people not call for help?
Alexei loomed in the doorway. "He's the son of a bitch that did this to me. Tortured me for years. I followed Kerrigan with hopes of revenge, now I fear he came out on top and slithered away once more." There was a sincere bitterness in his tone.
Horus mulled it over as he began flicking switches and pressing buttons, coaxing life into the machine. Still functional, good. "So why stay? The terrans would kill you."
Sauntering in and observing, Stukov said, "The terrans were my best chance at hunting Narud, he is deep in their society. I may have judged poorly," he chuckled, "but the zerg will die chasing Amon anyway."
"I see," Warfield said.
"There are worse endings than this, I should think." Stukov said, a touch wistful.
"You are right about that," Horus admitted; the idea of a lazy afternoon fishing was a definite pipe dream, at best a man like him could hope for a quick ending in battle.
Thumbing over his shoulder, Alexei said "that takes care of those for now." the corpses were sealed away, out of sight and mind, though Tate would surely notice the smell.
Looking up from the signal room machinery, Horus motioned towards the door. "Hybrid didn't do that. Mengsk did, wretched animal, probably for the hybrid unveiling being broadcast." How could he have ever believed in that man?
"Whatever that terran did, Horus, his sins are so very pale compared to what is coming." Stukov regarded him somberly.
"I hope to God you are wrong." Warfield muttered.
Shoes thumping against carpeting announced the arrival of Tate, who popped his head in the door. "No food, but there is coffee and a vending machine with candy." His face twisted, "what's that smell?"
"Alright, I'll take care of it, but hush for now. It's working," Horus ignored the question pointedly and shushed Tate with a gesture.
"They are on Sky Shield, what's left of it." Alexei noted, watching the computer search for a connection.
"New base of operations, probably Valerian's doing. Wouldn't be anyone left to save if Sky Shield came crashing down," Warfield said. It sounded like the prince, he was sure of it.
A mechanical voice invaded the room. "Unknown signal. Identification required to proceed."
"Damned Adjutants..." Horus grumbled.
"Error," the Adjutant said.
"General Horus Warfield, you damned robot!" Warfield said sharply. Of all the times for proper protocol...
The AI suddenly sounded much more agreeable. "Welcome, General. Please wait while your request is process-"
A familiar voice cut the adjutant off, "Warfield?!"
Smiling, Warfield said, "One and the same, Prince Valerian. Seems I missed my ride, any chance of a lift? I have a civilian and an asset with me." Finally, something was going their way.
"An asset?" Valerian sounded stunned still.
"Alexei Stukov. We have yet to be introduced," Stukov said, frowning.
There was a moments pause, followed by a brief jostling sound, before a new voice took over. "Stukov?"
Alexei's eyes widened. "Kerrigan?! You are truly living and breathing! How is this?" he said.
Valerian cut back in, sounding ruffled. "Your reunion will have to wait. The Bucephalusis is out of commission from an engagement, we are stuck on Sky Shield."
"We can find transportation, it should be easy to-" Warfield said.
Valerian let out an uncharacteristic hmph. "It seems you need to be brought up to speed, General. I will keep it brief, as we don't know how long this will last without being noticed," he said.
Wary now, Warfield said, "go on."
So Valerian did. Everything from the artifact explosion to their tangle with the Jackson's Revenge, the prince kept it succinct and brutal.
Warfield placed a hand on Tate's shoulder, he wanted to collapse and give up. "Everyone gone," he said softly, "are you sure?
"We were until you called, with a civilian no less...still, it changes nothing," the doubt in Valerian's voice vanished, replaced by iron. "Mira Han appears to be leading all of Amon's forces here; you would not make it to us," he said.
Horus remained calm for Tate's sake. "What would you advise? Our options are limited," he said. Limited by a child, which he would not point out; the boy was not some optional objective.
"Continue as you are. Find the most secure place you can and focus on survival," Valerian said.
"Confirmed," Warfield said, hand hovering over the button that would end their conversation.
"General, there is one more thing," Valerian said after a pause, clearly not sure if he should add it or not.
"That is?" Horus questioned, a pained look on his face.
"We are not sure yet, she is not talking anymore but, Amon may have taken the protoss," Valerian spoke a touch quickly.
Unbelievable. Warfield clenched his jaw hard to keep from shouting, speaking only after slowly reigning in the madness. "The same protoss who vaporize planets?"
"Yes, the same," Valerian said in a wary tone of his own.
"Just how fucked are we here?" Warfield snapped.
Valerian's voice hardened, "Keep your head, Horus. You have your orders, Bucephalus out," their conversation ended with a decisive click.
One hand raised up and combed through his chitinous hair. "The protoss. Hell," Warfield said, awed. Humanity didn't stand a chance.
"Kerrigan lives, Warfield," oddly, Alexei sounded relieved. "Something must have severed her from the hive mind, the artifact blast I suppose."
"That's nice, how does it matter exactly?" Horus said, turning his head to regard the other infested man.
"She is the only one who can fight Amon, General. I believe the prophecy. So long as that woman lives, there is hope for us," the absolute surety in Alexei's tone was undeniable.
He wanted to relax, to feel safe, but he couldn't. "Cold comfort right now. Looks like someone heard us," Warfield said. From dead silence, comm traffic began to light up, traffic from rapidly approaching air vessels. It seemed as though everyone heard them.
"A little running never hurt anyone," Alexei said mildly.
Jayce - Dreamscape
Tychus groaned happily, tossing his head back and closing his eyes, filled with a perfect level of contentment. Across from him in the hot tub and arranged similarly, was Jayce. "I like your head," he chuckled and nudged her foot.
"Me too," Jayce nudged his foot back and smiled, pleased as could be. She took it upon herself to arrange some relaxation after their exertions; he did not argue.
Lazily, he swiped up a bottle of beer and took a long swig, chuckling when she stroked her foot up his leg. A hot pain stabbed through his chest, interrupting the moment and leaving him coughing and choking on his drink. "Urk!" he gasped.
She sat up immediately, alert and suddenly wondering if you could choke to death in a dream world. "Tychus! What's wrong?"
"I," he gasped, it was time. "I been in too long I think," he staggered to his feet drunkenly, though the beer had nothing to do with it. "Need some air," he said. Had he been here so long that the change had finished? It felt like all the pain was catching up in high speed.
She held still, one hand raised and her face showing her upset. "Be safe please," she said.
He closed his eyes, already with a metaphorical foot out the door. "I'll be back later sweetheart," he said. With urgency, he withdrew from her mind then.
There was a split moment of panic when he opened his eyes to a cloudy green sea, felt the burning translating into lungs full of liquid. A spark of rage set him into action, the idea that Tychus J. Findlay would die in some zerg egg was downright insulting. The large cocoon that housed him burst outward in a shower of liquid, the new and improved leader of the swarm stumbling out of it and spewing out the contents of his lungs.
"Rah!" he bellowed raggedly in triumph, it seemed fitting.
When the Evolution Master's attention shifted to him, it was an oily caress on his brain. Organism Tychus, evolving. Wish to lead swarm? Abathur questioned, curious.
Catching his breath, Tychus took a moment to collect himself and feel awed. He was conscious of so much more now, his influence over the swarm had certainly increased, it even felt more natural. He looked down at his new armored and spined fists, clenching them and gritting his teeth.
"This is you now," he told himself grimly, voice echoing inside the otherwise silent ship, before focusing on Abathur like the point of a knife pinning into the bullseye. Hell no, but if you decide you don't like our deal and try to stick it to me at the last second, I'm gonna have somethin' to say about it now, Abby.
Anger seethed through the Evolution Masters entire being, malevolent and insidious, before disappearing. It seemed Abathur couldn't hide his thoughts so well anymore. Message received. Abathur said, withdrawing quickly.
Better be. Tychus said, turning his attention elsewhere. There was work to be done.
Zagara was slumped in the cortex of the Leviathan, restrained by tightly constricting tentacles. She was to literally see him winning, as Tychus wished. In the space between a blink, her surroundings changed. When she opened her eyes again, it was to a sunny world in which she felt small and vulnerable. Recoiling in confusion and defensive anger she yelled, "Agh! What is this disgusting place?" Even her voice was vastly different.
"Shut up and listen Zigzag," a familiar voice spoke, a voice she hated more than words and feelings could possibly express, "we ain't got much time."
Rounding on the spot, she beheld the new visage of Tychus Findlay, finding herself looking upwards. Confused but no less angry, she snarled, "You!"
He did not look pleased to see her either, this new heavily armored and spined Tychus. "Yeah, me," he said.
A glance at herself revealed that she was trapped inside the form of the pathetic human he cared about. "What could you possibly have to say?" she said, wary now; she was in no position to fight.
"Amon ain't gonna let me take her and go, I ain't stupid," he said in an even tone. "Abby doesn't have to lift a finger to betray me." There were some terrans out there that the slimy slug could give pointers to, but not this one.
"You were stupid the moment you allied with the Evolution Master," Zagara bared her useless flat teeth.
"Don't push me," he warned, glaring. Findlay had no love for her either. "I'll let you go, pick up the pieces and fight your good fight, to hell with Abby," he said.
An opportunity, she did not expect this. "Why not now? Time is of the essence," she said. Maybe hope was not lost yet.
"I'm still goin' to kill Valerian. Not gonna let you go until I am done my business," he said, smirking and giving a glimpse of razor teeth.
Frustrated, she shouted, "He doesn't matter you fool-"
"Take it or leave it," he cut her off. "You're on my last nerve and make no mistake, only reason why I'm offerin' is because Jimmy wouldn't have liked me leavin' everyone to burn," his intensity softened slightly when he mentioned Raynor and she noticed.
She paused, thoughtful, before carefully picking her words. "So be it. The Queen of Blades based many of her choices off of that terran. I will never understand how a weak fleshling could command the respect of so many stronger than himself."
He snorted. "That's because he wasn't weak. Get lost and keep your head down," he said, shoving Zagara out of Jayce without ceremony.
With a heavy sigh, he regarded the small terran woman. Jayce remained frozen, unaware of the time passing while he thought. "What am I going to do with you, sugar?" He wondered out loud.
Cautiously, he stepped behind her and took a moment to repress his less-than-human features. Spines, armor and claws sank away until he was as he remembered himself. He let her stasis go as he rested his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. "Hey you, big dog is home."
Jayce did not move, her shoulders jerking slightly was the only indication she registered his presence at all. "I tried to get out," her voice came out quiet. "Tried making doors, pictured myself waking up in a hospital bed, looked for some limit or edge." Her arms moved around a little and he peeked over her shoulders, she was staring at her hands.
Confused, he tried to curl his arms around her, to give comfort while figuring out what the situation might be. "Take it easy now," he said softly.
She spun in his arms, jostling them away in agitation. "There is none! I'm trapped Tychus, I can't get out and everything I know here means nothing!" Her eyes were red and leaking tears, voice raising higher and going ragged.
How much time could have passed in her head, he wondered? It was minutes, a half hour at worst. Taking a big breath he caught her shoulders in his hands and gave her a small shake. "You'll wake up when you are good and ready, alright? Try and enjoy yourself in the meantime," he said.
Her eyes were wide and her voice cracked. "How can I? I don't even have a sense of time anymore," she fell forwards until her face buried in his chest. "What happened to my friends and family?" her voice muffled in his clothing. "What took me into space, away from home? What could have been so horrible that I rebelled against the Confederation?"
Frowning down at her, he curled his arms around her and let her cry. This was not going quite as planned. "Don't know if you can handle knowing right now sweetheart," he said cautiously.
She seemed to ignore his statement. "How did you get in?" She looked up at him and sniffed loudly. "Maybe I can follow you out."
He smiled and chuckled warmly. "It's a piece of machinery sugar, hell if I know how it works."
Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, tugging for emphasis. "Ask the doctor, maybe we can work it out. Please," she looked so desperate then, something he did not care to see.
"Don't think it works like that," he gave her another reassuring squeeze, "but I've never said no to you when you gave me that look either." With some alarm, he noticed his hands had reverted to their infested selves; they looked terrible against her back, a hairs breadth from slicing through her clothing.
Unaware, she smiled and curled her arms around him in return. "Thank you," she said honestly. "Enough about me. Are you feeling better? I was worried sick."
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he forced the image of his old self to the forefront of his mind and watched as his hands melted back to human again. "Yeah, little alarm was goin' off for me to eat is all it was," he said lamely.
"I'm glad you are here with me, but I want you to take care of yourself too," she hugged him tightly and breathed him in, comforted. "I'll be okay," she said.
He patted the back of her head and squeezed back, thinking hard on the changing situation. It seemed ironic, the more control he gained over the alien and horrible swarm, the less he had here. "Don't worry your head about old Tychus, I'll be just fine." Yet he could still feel it, the ability to change whatever he liked, something was off. "Say, I got an idea," he smiled.
She sniffed, still working on composing herself. "Oh?"
He wondered if she was real then, or some figment he dreamed up; a fantasy that he desired. "I think, if you let me, I can change things up in here," he said.
She smiled brightly at the idea. "Oh! Maybe you could show me places that could jog my memory?"
No. That smile, the tears, were real. Abathur said it himself: he took what was there and preserved it. "Wouldn't hold my breath, but yeah," he said, nodding and looking over the surroundings. This was breakable, what was left of this person could be destroyed, that is what he was seeing.
Due caution would be taken from here on out.
She shrugged, misery dispelled for the time being. "Go ahead, if it is possible. Can't be more willing than this," she said.
He knew exactly where they would be going. Grinning mischievously, he said, "Close your eyes."
She gave him a curious, questioning look before doing as told, smiling all the while.
With ease and care, he gently took control of her malleable surroundings, dredging up fond memories as he went. He took a deep breath of the cigar smoke and stale sweat. "That's more like it!" He was barely audible over the brain-rattling loud music.
Her eyes snapped open and he grinned, rotating her by the shoulders to take in the scenery. "We went to places like this?" she shouted to be heard.
"Hell yeah," his grin turned wicked as they came to face the stage.
Her eyes widened and he was sure he could hear her jaw hitting the floor as she stared up at the long, long legs and definitely fake assets of one of his favorites. "Oh my," she whispered.