Bucephalus - Sky Shield Platform
"Oh! Hello," nervous eyes shifted from between patient, visitor and hands clasped tightly around a medical chart. The lone medic was in way over her head, it was clear.
Tosh walked in and stood beside the door, pointedly leaving her escape path clear, the woman's anxiety was rising with every glance in his direction. "How is our protoss friend?" A frown creased his brow when a flutter of panic rippled through the medic girls mind.
Swallowing hard, she gestured to Lasarra with a worried look. "Not speaking," the protoss lay there on the cold table, staring upwards and unresponsive. "I cauterized the wounds with a laser. Truth is Mr. Tosh, I am not qualified to-"
He nodded, eyeing the bandaged nerve cords direly. "You did what you can Roshelle, now go on," he waved her off. "I get in touch if somethin' changes."
Relief bloomed in her eyes and mind alike, and Roshelle was all too happy to leave the uncomfortable situation. "Yes sir." She almost flew out of the room.
As soon as the door sealed shut, he leaned forwards. "It true? The khala be his?" Corpse-like, Lasarra lay there unmoving; the protoss' flesh mottled and sickly looking. Tentative, he brushed at the alien with his power, unsure of the consequences.
To his relief her mind stirred, eyes glowing dimly. Gentle but no longer warm, her thoughts touched his. Yes. He even said that I would fail them, I should have-
Understanding dawned on him, she must feel so alone in her mind, the touch of another brought comfort and woke her from the haze of shock. It was little effort to take the conversation to another level. Nothin' you could do. This be the enemy we are fighting, tearin' us apart from the inside. Robbing us of our allies. He watched her slowly move to a seated position, head hung but eyes like cold moons and fixed on him now.
Lasarra's eyes narrowed, brows knitting together. How do you live like this? It is so cold now, so empty. She brought her hand to her chest, every heart aching with loss. I am empty.
He shrugged, nonchalant. We be born this way, we simply do. His eyes narrowed in return. You will have to learn and fast.
She hung her head, looking down at the sterile white tiles of the floor and considering. When her head raised, oddly light feeling with the lack of nerve cords, there was a fire in her eyes. Amon must be fought. I will not go quietly into the dark.
He nodded and gave a pleased grunt, crossing his arms. After a few moments his curiosity could wait no more. Grandma Tosh...she touched you and left that. He gestured to the blackened hand print on her arm, sticking out sorely on her cool colored flesh. Now she be gone.
Her hand drifted to the mark, fingertips brushing it gently; the touch brought phantom pain, the poisonous hatred still too fresh in her mind. I fear your helpful ancestor was an enemy in disguise or otherwise controlled.
His brows furrowed, how could Grandma Tosh be taken in such a way? Amon could control spirits too? This be hard news.
Hands clasping together, she closed her eyes and tried to find comfort in life, the khala no longer there to give it. I am sorry.
Pushing off the wall, he took a long step forwards and stood directly in front of the wayward protoss. "We must take our losses and use them as armor, you and I."
Resolve filled her, burning away the acidic remains of despair and loss, a hot trail through every nerve and vein. She stood up and looked down at him, cold eyes bright. We are their only protection now.
"Their minds, at least. Together we can defend them on this front, I think." He smiled and held up his hand. "Nova and Kerrigan are lost, their minds grasping for power they don't have now, it is you and I."
Without hesitation, she clasped the strong gloved hand once again. If the terrans can live and fight without the khala, she could too. Yes. We must.
"Bad news, Prince Valerian." Captain Vaughn sounded exhausted, voice rasping through the comm in Valerian's chamber.
Restraining a sigh, Valerian said, "Continue, captain." If it were not for the psi screen, he was sure he would have melted down by now.
"Mira Han is establishing a base on the opposite end of the platform," a map of the platform unfolded before Valerian then, red circles indicating their current position and the new threat. "I don't need to point out they have more manpower than us," Vaughn said.
"No, you don't," Valerian muttered; their predicament was clear as day on the map. Mira Han was closing in and fast, the Bucephalus would be powerless against a ground assault. "Continue with fortifications, I will deliberate over this new information with my council."
"Yes sir," with a click, Vaughn was gone. He must have been on the off rotation for psi screens, Valerian thought; there were not enough of the devices for the whole crew and they could only be worn a few hours at a time. Removing them felt like dipping your brain in acid, it was horrid.
Jim sounded like a caged beast, the spined infested man prowling back and forth in front of the view port as he snarled. "What's to deliberate over? We are screwed."
Valerian peered out the glass past him thoughtfully, their surroundings were bleak. "Sky shield has tremendous firepower Jim," he chided gently, "all we need is one cannon, one shield, to turn the tide in our favor."
"I lost many attacking the platform," Kerrigan paused, her gaze stopping short of the glass and resting on Jim, "but I did not leave much behind, Valerian."
"You keep talkin' about fixin' things up, but I don't see a qualified man for the job anywhere." Jim's arm gave a quick, violent gesture to indicate the entire ship and its occupants. "The men we have left do not have this kind of expertise," he said.
Valerian smiled then, keen as a cat. "As a matter of fact, there is one extremely overqualified man at our disposal, and he has been trying to contact you for some hours now."
"Who?" Sarah and Jim asked as one.
"You can't be serious right now," Jim said, incredulous. It took a moment of Valerian smiling quietly before it clicked, he knew where this was going.
"Egon Stetmann is our only hope and he is lucid," Valerian said, smile widening to a cheshire grin.
"This is a bad plan," Jim frowned. "I love the kid but he ain't himself and if you didn't notice he can blow people up," he hissed.
"He will be restrained of course," Valerian raised a hand for calm, while subtly shifting away from the murderess at his shoulder. "Jim, it is up to you right now; we can be lambs or lions, I trust you to make this work," he said.
"I will come with you," Kerrigan said, suddenly appearing beside Valerian. His suppressed jump did not go unnoticed.
"I don't think that is a good idea," Jim said quickly, lips sealing into a tight line of displeasure.
Giving him a lopsided smirk over Valerian's shoulder, which she pointedly remained close to, Kerrigan said, "Worried I will suddenly be her again?"
"I wouldn't be able to forgive myself," Jim admitted, looking away.
"Don't worry Jim," Kerrigan reassured calmly, patting Valerian's shoulder. He jumped this time. "Let's go."
It was a relief for Valerian when Kerrigan sidled up beside Jim and stopped hovering over his shoulder like a predator. "I will remain behind, there are other matters to attend to," the prince said hurriedly. Chief of those other matters was helping Nova monitor all of the staff, there had already been a few meltdowns during psi screen swapping time.
Still dangling from his restraints beside the quietly glaring Matt, Egon shouted excitedly the moment Raynor appeared. "Jim! Thank goodness. He's coming! I saw-felt-heard-" he jabbered.
Insides tangling up into knots at the sight, Jim approached quickly. "Slow down son! Amon?"
Shaking his head violently, Egon looked wide eyed and sounded half-crazed, "No Jim! Tychus! I saw him-was him-felt-"
Jim went still, voice lowering in pain, "What do you mean Tychus is coming? He was...he was on Haven."
"No!" Egon shouted, frustration clear. His eyes flickered and he writhed in his bindings. "He has it Jim, he took it! He's coming."
Sarah's voice took on a surprised pitch, "He took the swarm."
Jim breathed, "Unbelievable." He looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes, "Why, partner?"
Egon's head snapped forwards, human eyes sliding away and revealing dark red lenses. He spoke in a low pitched growl that brought Jim's attention back. "Angry. Kill. Let me go." Gasping, his head jerked back and his eyes returned in a blink. "No! Don't do that. Stop him Jim," he panted heavily, his face twisted in seeming agony.
Jim frowned, Egon was clearly not as lucid as Valerian thought. "Hang in there kid," he said.
Sarah spoke up, authoritative, "If your friend took the swarm from Zagara then she stood no chance keeping it from Amon, he is the best hope now. But why is he coming back?"
"I got an inkling of a guess and I don't like it," Jim's eyes narrowed as he glanced at Horner, who was glaring back. "Don't like the idea of the biggest bio weapon in the universe being in Tychus Findlay's hands neither," he said.
"Weapons are for killing, your friend is good at it," Sarah said, also eyeing Horner. Their lack of reaction to her presence raised some questions of her own.
"A little too good," Jim muttered. Tychus never cared much about innocent casualties.
Egon let out a tired sigh, "Stop him. Please."
Bracing himself, Jim planted a hand on Egon's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Look Egon, I didn't just come here 'cause you were hollerin' for me."
The younger man winced at the touch. His arms had to be sore, zerg or not. "Why then Jim?" Egon said.
"We need your help," Jim said.
Egon's eyes sharpened. "It's not safe, I don't have control."
Sarah let out an impatient hiss of breath, coming to stand before Egon and beside Jim. "You are fighting too much, the swarm will destroy your mind if you can't wrap your head around this Egon," she said.
Surprised, Jim stepped aside. "Listen to her, son. I got a job for you and you're the only man for it," he admitted grudgingly.
"But Matt-" Egon looked towards the silent infested man fearfully.
"Has surrendered himself fully like a common infested terran," Sarah interjected with a note of disdain. There was a feeling of being a disappointed mother that was hard to shake. "That was the risk of fully merging any of you. That was why you had Shlassa," she said cooly.
"But I'm-" Egon said.
"You have already succeeded Egon. If you had failed, you would have been gone right away. Like him," she tossed her head back, chitenous hair clattering.
"You sure know how to sugar coat it," Jim muttered over her shoulder.
Impatient, she reached for one of the powered cuffs suspending Egon. "We just don't have time, help me get him down," she said.
After a few moments Egon tumbled forwards, carefully caught by Sarah and Jim's arms. "Ah! Ah!" he gasped, "Cramping. Badly."
A new set of bindings were quickly affixed to Egon's wrists, holding them apart at this front. "We'll keep these on you 'til we know you got your head screwed on, and I'll get you some food while we get a team ready," Jim said.
"Team?" Egon looked up at the two people holding him.
"It won't be as bad as the Char caves, I promise," Jim patted his shoulder.
"Hnng," Egon groaned.
Augustgrad - Korhal
Three figures crouched behind a dumpster in a cramped back alley, holding their breath as the rumbling of a low flying ship rattled the windows of the buildings towering on either side of them.
Stukov let out a slow breath as the threat passed, the rumbling fading away. Undetected for another hour, he wondered how long that would last. "So which way, General?"
An orange sheen reflected from Warfield's eyes as he muttered, "Keep your head down." Extending the tip of a talon, he dragged the razor sharp tip across the plascrete between himself, Tate and Stukov. "There are four sectors," a shape began to unfold quickly as he scratched out the city from memory.
Nodding slowly, Stukov confirmed his understanding by tapping where he estimated they were located. "I remember, yes."
With his free hand, Warfield gestured sharply as he spoke, "Residential one and two."
"It's bad. Don't go there," Tate whispered, looking wide-eyed up at the two men.
Tap. "Business, where we are," Warfield said.
"And every bad guy in Augustgrad too by now," Stukov chuckled; the entire sector lit up like a hornet nest after their little chat with the Bucephalus.
Tap. "Military," Warfield glanced over his two companions.
"Empty," Stukov's ruined face smiled, he could see where this was going.
"Exactly. We go there and maybe we can take some of the pressure off our boys upstairs," Warfield said, crossing his arms and looking over his work.
"I think that is not quite following orders, General," Stukov reminded him in jest.
Warfield let out a snort of derision, "Valerian is a real good politician, but he's got a lot to learn about strategy. This is a big opportunity."
"And the boy?" Stukov pointedly looked sideways at their scraggly third wheel.
Warfield glanced at Tate and gave a shrug. "He's been fighting to live for a good while now. Time for him to get to fight back too."
"Hell yeah-" Tate blurted, rocking on his heels excitedly before catching himself. Sheepishly he muttered, "I mean, uh, sorry."
"It's alright," Warfield could not help but give a chuckle at the youthful enthusiasm, "there is just no safer place than on the move, might as well put you to work."
"It is decided, let us give these Amon bastards some hell," Stukov said, straightening into a stand with the other two. There was work to be done.
A few jumped fences and city blocks later, it seemed as though they had entered a new world, a darkened realm of nightmares. The air tasted coppery and rotten, dark splashes of blood competed with muddy soil to cover everything and with that bloody soup was drawn hellish figures and alien writing on every surface; it only took a few minutes more walking to discover where all that blood came from.
As soon as they caught sight of a shrine made out of dead marines and their bullet-riddled CMCs, Stukov ushered his companions behind the remains of a shelled out siege tank. "Starting to have regrets?" Alexei said, eyeing Warfield.
"Starting to miss the zerg," Horus muttered bitterly, sickened, "God help these poor bastards."
"I'm scared," Tate huddled close to the two men, far more afraid of the unknown monsters than the known.
"Hang in there. Been thinkin' on what we can do to stir things up in here," Horus said, patting Tate on the shoulder while talking to Alexei.
"Oh? Do tell," Alexei focused intently on Horus' talon as it began to scratch out a new map.
Horus' head bobbed in confirmation as he scraped at the ground intently. "The vespine refinery, not too many left in the city. It's old, for one, not to mention all the new industry after the clean up; Raynor and Findlay's visit with the Odin didn't help."
"And the zerg," Alexei added with mirth.
Letting out a disgruntled sigh, Horus studied his work. "Korhal's been through hell, never imagined it would become it though."
"Mmm," Alexei said, decidedly indifferent. Korhal was not home. Terrans were not his people.
Horus squeezed Tate's shoulder, drawing the boys attention. "This is where you come in son," he said gravely.
Tate swallowed, his racing heartbeat audible to the two infested men. "I can do it," he said without confidence.
"I know you are scared, but there is no way that either of us are getting near that refinery without being seen," Horus gave the boy a gentle shake. "There are people fighting on that platform above us and they need our help," he watched as a dull fire began to light in Tate's eyes, a fire he had seen in trained warriors receiving his speeches before battle. He did not like it, but it was necessary. "This is your chance to make a difference, right here, right now."
Silence hung between the three as Tate looked between the map and Horus, pursing his lips and thinking. Horus' hand fell away from his shoulder as he stood, and this time his voice was sure, "I can do it."
Horus nodded, pride swelling in his chest. "Go on, and be safe. If you can't get close, don't risk getting caught," he said.
"I won't get caught," Tate said as he rounded the corner of the tank and dipped out of sight.
They both listened as the sound of footfalls faded into the distance, and it was Alexei that spoke first. Why is it that the boy has not been turned? I know you have been wondering too. No point speaking out loud and risking giving away their position.
Drumming his fingers on his bent knee, Horus stared at the cracked and dusty plascrete between his feet. Yes. I have been keeping an eye on him, know you have too, and he hasn't shown any signs of mental disturbances.
Any thoughts as to why? Alexei prodded.
When we got to the rebel base and it was being overrun, there were kids in there. Horus busied himself cleaning soil and filth from under his talons, bits and pieces floating to the ground as he thought. The infected can turn one another. What if kids were immune, but had to be turned?
Alexei paused, mulling it over. It was not long before he found some tiny imperfections on his clothing to pick at as well. A grim idea indeed.
Every minute that passed after Tate left fed a growing anxiety in Horus. Thoughts of gruesome deaths, a boy with black eyes and a cruel smile, all fed by the fuel of past experience made him curse himself for his choice. He was just a kid and this was no game, what kind of fool was he?
"You can stop worrying, General. He's coming," Alexei said, annoyed.
In his introspective state, Horus did not hear the approaching scampering footfalls of Tate. He could not help but smile as the boy rounded the tank with a triumphant look on his face, safe and sound.
"There are people in the SCVs," Tate said, nearly bouncing with excitement.
"How many did you see?" Stukov questioned.
"At least six drivers, whole lot of people with guns," Tate said, crouching and catching his breath.
"Why did we send a kid who can't count to scout again?" Gesturing towards Horus with an open palm, Alexei poured as much sarcasm into the question as he could.
Tate looked affronted, eyebrows knitting together. "I can count! Twelve, I saw twelve."
"You sure?" Horus prodded, keeping his amusement hidden behind a mask of seriousness.
"Positive," Tate said, frowning and crossing his arms defensively.
"So we kill the guards, get in there," Alexei said. "You are clearly thinking about blowing something up, yes? We would never get clear of the refinery on foot."
"No. Not the refinery," Horus smiled slyly, "the starport."
Alexei paused, thinking until he too began to smile, letting out a raspy chuckle.. "Maybe take a short ride to the platform while we are near some ships eh? Not a bad thought," he said.
"Depends on what is between here and there, what's waiting for us there," as he spoke, Horus trailed a talon along his planned route and circled areas where the path bottlenecked. "We need to get ourselves a loaded tanker, keep this mission a quiet one," he said.
"Are they really enemies?" Tate asked softly.
"What do you mean?" Quirking a brow, Horus looked towards the boy, took in his dirty, sallow appearance and could not help but feel like a highly irresponsible adult.
"They were all people...what happened to everyone?" Fresh liquid spilled down Tate's cheeks, bottled emotions leaking out. The boy swiped at his quickly reddening face angrily.
It was a good question. Horus frowned and shifted around until he was squatted in front of Tate, planting a hand on his shoulder and giving a squeeze. "Sometimes it is just as simple as they will shoot us and kill us if they get the chance. Not gonna kill them if we got a choice, son." He smiled then. "That is why I sent you there to scout, get it now? You are helping us keep those folks from getting killed."
Tate's lip quivered hard for a few seconds before he tamed it, sniffing loudly. "Okay," he said.
Ulnar - Alterian Rift
Tumbling through an endless void of roiling white, Zeratul clung to his ship for dear life. Blinded and bombarded by sound and sensation, it felt as though the Voidseeker was shaking apart. There was no going back, the choice was made, ride the storm or die.
So he rode.
It came as an abrupt and painful shock of the senses when the blinding white behind his eyelids faded and the ship came out of its mad spin. Shaking with apprehension, Zeratul slowly opened his eyes. Before him lay a beautiful sight: a cube-shaped planet, surrounded all around by a familiar chaotic swirling anomaly of space.
Incredible. Could the tales be true? This creator world, Ulnar, hidden inside the impassible Alterian Rift of legend? Hands trembling, he grasped the controls and guided the Void Seeker smoothly forwards; it was a relief the relic ship still functioned. This is where the creatures have been traveling!
Were I not here on such a dire mission, I could travel this world for a lifetime and die happy; but where did the creature of light go? All the directional and radar functions of the ship were nonfunctional, leaving him to fly manually and relying on his old eyes; there were still white spots dancing in them.
White spots. He blinked a few more times, the white spots solidifying into a familiar form. Cautiously, he pursued the sinuous, serpentine form of the phoenix. Ulnar grew larger, engulfing the view port, its geometric and perfect shapes beginning to stand out, revealing further depth to the planet. They were approaching a nook that seemed to hook farther into the surface.
A few moments more and he realized there were familiar shapes moving around on that surface, impossible ones.
Oh no. With dread, he swung off from the pursuit of the energy creature and prayed he had not been spotted by Amon's minions. The Void Seeker's cloaking systems were offline, all he had was the natural dark colors of the relic machine and the bright, star-like radiance of the creature he was pursuing.
Like a fly on the wall, the Void Seeker swung smoothly into a deep crevasse, its tip peeking out just enough for Zeratul to watch. Rising from his seat, his eyes widened as a chill of horror traveled over his skin.
A mechanical wail erupted, followed by a deep rumbling through Ulnar that shook the ship violently. The phoenix creature reacted, shying backwards from the entry point it had been approaching. Before it could change course fully, several beams shot out from multiple points of Ulnar's surface and enveloped the creature in a web.
Powerless, Zeratul leaped from his seat and clenched his fists, watching as the creature writhed and shrieked, shrinking away until the energy ropes dissipated and it no longer remained. By the gods, they are being ensnared! His eyes narrowed as one form, far larger than the other ones, floated into their midst. Perhaps I can find some answers from the enemies.
"The machine is almost powered," a marine in black CMC whispered feverishly to his partner, still looking at the spot where the energy creature had been absorbed, "almost ready to bring Amon's glory to us."
Yes. Good work my slaves. The hybrid whispered to its puppets. Pathetic retches they were, but they had their uses.
"Glory to Amon!" The terrans tossed their heads back and shouted their masters name, laughing and smiling.
From a ledge above, Zeratul watched the exchange, cloaked and hidden. I do not recognize these terrans, but they are clearly under the Dark One's sway. I pray this is not the fate of them all.
Another comes. The hybrid whispered, a clawed fingertip pointing towards an opening tear overhead.
Fingertips caressing the grooved edges of the ledge he clung to, Zeratul watched as another energy creature came flying out of a rift. All these symbols, ancient and beyond time, why have I been lead here? These creatures are the key to this mystery.
When creature was caught just like its predecessor, Zeratul pushed away the emotion of the moment and took in the details. As the creature diminished, the energy web seemed to expand and contract rhythmically. Pulsing with life, pure and familiar.
The cables fell away and retracted into their recesses once more and it clicked. The phoenix creatures, they are powering Ulnar! What was their true purpose, how can I fix this?
With a renewed sense of direction, he stepped away from the ledge and struck down a path. Occasionally the markings on the walls and floors would pulse with power, further proving his theory. It seemed only logical to follow the direction of the pulses in reverse.
Ulnar was not being invaded by Amon's minions, it had been conquered. Every path he traveled teemed with the terrans in their dark suits with unfamiliar symbols of allegiance; and there was always a hybrid master nearby, directing its thralls where it pleased. Traveling undetected was a must, and he had to double back numerous times and even rest, minutes were passing like hours.
Ulnar is not a planet. He decided, placing his hand against a thick band carved into a wall, bracing himself as it lit up with a pulse of light. The energy was not pure, not like what he felt before while tumbling through space after the creature, it had been tainted. But to what end? Ulnar is a machine.
Artificial light thrummed through the planet, the sky long left behind now. There was a pressure building, pressing against his skin and brain until he began to feel a deep pain. I must be nearing the source, there is no other explanation for this mysterious presence. Bracing himself, he slipped through the shadows from the spacious air shaft he had been traveling and landed in a hallway.
Like a heartbeat, the pulsing of power seemed to become more rapid with every step he took towards the massive door at the end of the hall. Lights were dancing and strobing in hypnotic patterns and it felt as though his head might burst by the time he reached the door. Unsure as to how to open it, only knowing it must be done, he reached out and touched the surface, intent on exploring it.
Only it was warm to the touch and triggered a rumbling that set him on edge. When he withdrew his hand, it left a bright imprint that slowly faded. As the impression of two fingers and thumbs faded into the stone, the door pushed backwards and slid aside. Familiar blinding light poured into the hallway and silhouetted him, but he was not sure what he was seeing.
Stepping inside quickly, he shielded his eyes and tried to adjust. A thrumming sound boomed all around him, vibrating against his skin. This was the heart of the machine, the epicenter of Ulnar's power. The room was spherical, that much he could tell.
Blinking hard and shaking his head, Zeratul stumbled forwards with a hand raised. When he connected with a hot metallic surface he recoiled, testing the heat before sliding his hand along the surface searchingly. They were inside, all of them, and something was horribly wrong. How can I free you? Striking the machine with his blade would be suicide, the creatures absorb protoss energy; there had to be a lever of some sort to let them flow out of their prison freely.
You can't, little protoss. A voice whispered, amused.
The pressure in his head, already painful but steady, redoubled in strength and he fell to a knee. He saw the gnarled, nightmarish foot of the hybrid appear at the corner of the machine as it approached. It had simply stood there on the other side, knowing he would be blind for a time when he entered.
You think your arrival was unnoticed, that you can hide in the shadows from us? From Him? It laughed, radiating cruel pleasure as its crested head tilted, peering down at the kneeling protoss intently.
Lunging, Zeratul's green psi blade flared to life as he lashed out. His eyes widened in surprise when he was blown back from the metallic prison, his blow repelled; it may have been the only thing that saved him from being killed by the clawed fist that crashed down and crumpled the stone floor where he had been kneeling.
Barely losing momentum, the zerg-like hybrid charged after Zeratul, the dance of battle beginning. Your fading eyes will watch out of your broken body as the xel'naga's creations cast the entire universe into the void. It moved so fast, all claws and tentacles snapping and lashing from every angle, a relentless storm. You will be consumed, as we all will be!
Zeratul's eyes had finally adjusted, allowing him to slip between each blow, here one moment and gone the next, but there was no opportunity to strike back. This would be a lost battle if it was not ended soon. As their dance lead to the opposite side of the prison, he understood the source of the corruption he had felt before.
A warped mass, sticking out like a blackened tumor, clung to the brilliantly glowing prison. Another massive fist swiped the space where his body was located a millisecond beforehand, getting closer. My weapons cannot pierce the prison and there is no control panel. His thoughts flickered from question to conclusion in rapid succession, an answer would reveal itself. If I can last long enough to spot it.
Another trench appeared in the floor, debris clattering up against the walls and peppering his back; and like that, the answer revealed itself.
There is no other way. Unleashing all of them at once...
He slipped through the shadows and appeared behind the hybrid, standing proudly in front of the prison. I cannot hide.
It spun, mandibles and teeth twisting into the semblance of a smile.
I will not hide! He brandished his blades, ready for the final strike.
Goodbye, Zeratul. It snarled then, saliva flying in long ropes as it charged.
For Aiur! He shouted, holding his position until the last pivotal moment, there was no margin for error.
The hybrid let out a triumphant hiss as its claws pierced through the protoss who had been a thorn in it's masters side for far too long, watching as Zeratul's eyes widened and, to it's surprise, smiled at the corners. Pinned to the prison by the claw through his chest, light flooded out behind the old protoss' body. Realization struck the hybrid and it pulled away in panic, the prison ruptured by its attack. No!
Time felt distorted in his final moments, watching the claws pull out of his chest, droplets of his own blood flying, he even saw the horror on the hybrid abominations face and felt the satisfaction of a well done ruse. It had been far too fast to slip through the shadows at the last second, it had to be real. All pain and feeling dissipated as a sense of weightlessness took over, the floor rising to greet him.
Zeratul closed his eyes for the last time with a final desperate hope that this was his destiny. Good luck my friends.
After what could have been a second or ages, perfect silence yielded to a voice. "Zeratul," it whispered softly.
As consciousness returned, he opened his eyes and blinked in confusion; there was no pain, no surroundings other than a soft white and a sense of peace. Is this death?
"No, old prophet. This is rebirth," it said, voice radiating with triumph as Zeratul rose to his feet, "As the phoenix rose, so shall you."
Unsure of what to expect, Zeratul turned slowly, old eyes widening as he beheld the massive serpentine face of one of the energy creatures. It floated there serenely, eyes bright as stars and shining out of its already radiant body. Rebirth?
"You were correct. Ulnar is not just a home world, it is the greatest tool of the creators," it said. A familiar shape appeared in the space between them, Ulnar; but there were bright white novas erupting from its surface like solar flares.
Images flashed, revealing the fate of Amon's minions. Terrans, hybrid, protoss, they were all being washed away in cleansing fires. The hybrid are being destroyed! Zeratul exclaimed. With relief he felt the sense of corruption also being removed, then wondered at the sense: was he still laying on a floor, life essence draining away? or something more, rebirth?
"Amon was attempting to change the very nature of Ulnar, to make it a tool for unmaking. This shall not pass, thanks to you." A warm sense of welcome emanated from the creature.
Zeratul's eyes roamed from the image of Ulnar to the creature and back, contemplating. But the Queen of Blades was to break the cycle of the gods, not I.
"Kerrigan will. This is just the beginning," it said. There was a sense of a smile, though no mouth capable of doing such.
Raising his hand to touch his chest, still afraid to look down and see the terrible damage the hybrid had inflicted, he perked in surprise when he felt solid flesh. In fact, he had never felt better. His eyes sharpened. What can I do, great one?
"Lead, prophet." A blaze erupted from the creatures flesh, but it was an aurora of lights more than a flame. "The phoenix creatures, as you think of us, are an army of the creators. Direct us and fulfill your destiny."
For a moment, the weight of destiny and past failures had fallen away, but the creatures words firmly put them all back in place. His shoulders sagged under the return of unbearable weight, and his voice echoed in pain. An army of the gods...I am not fit to lead.
"The khalai protoss have been taken, the zerg and terrans are on the precipice," the creatures voice became somewhat haughty, "Inaction will undo all the right you have done. The gods do not make mistakes, Zeratul, you were chosen."
My people have been taken? Flashes of protoss, red eyed mind slaves being cleansed from Ulnar, finally registered. Artanis must have not received the message, or taken no heed. One more terrible wrong I have done, but you offer me the ability to right it..
Slowly, with the weight of the universe on his shoulders, Zeratul straightened until he was a proud warrior, looking at his people. There is only one response. Their surroundings wavered, soft white fading to the cool angular designs of Ulnar, until he was standing on a platform with what had to be thousands of radiant phoenix creatures surrounding him. His army to lead.
"Yes. We will cast out the dark one, together! Make haste!" the creature he had been talking to, who he now knew to be Vornuum, remained by his side. "Choose where we go, prophet," Vornuum said.
Jayce - Dreamscape
Opening her eyes to pitch black darkness, Jayce felt a moment of primal terror. Blinking several more times to banish it, the feeling returned when her eyesight would not. Everything felt wrong, her body would not respond to her commands to move, speak, nothing.
Her heart was fluttering in terror when a long, vertical sliver of light appeared. When two orange glowing eyes set in an inhuman yet horribly familiar face locked on to her own, she tried so hard to scream.
"Ah!" she shouted, sitting bolt upright in the soft bed and panting. The musty smell, dust motes peacefully flying through the small crack of light in the curtains and even the heavy weight of the man sleeping beside her did little to slow her racing heart.
With a grunt, Tychus curled an arm around here and feigned the grogginess of waking up, voice gravelly. "What's the matter, sugar?"
She shook, catching herself from jerking away from the touch. With an effort, she allowed herself to be pulled up against the warm and very much naked body beside her. What the hell was that? "I-whew-one hell of a bad dream is all," she muttered, curling an arm over his chest and not daring to close her eyes.
"Wonder where you go, when you dream inside of a dream?" he said, stroking his fingertips through her hair soothingly. When he opened the cell door and stared into her eyes, usually they were accusing and hateful, but all he saw was genuine terror. Something was off, but when her fingertips began to stroke at his skin, he decided to think about other more enjoyable things.
She chuckled softly, calming down and resting her cheek on his chest, smiling up at him. "I don't think either of us is qualified to answer that," she said.
"Didn't think you were qualified to do what you did with that stripper," he grinned broadly then, waggling his eyebrows. Now that had been one hell of a pleasant surprise.
Smiling like a minx, she slid her hand down his chest slowly. "Well I'm just full of surprises. Truth is, I prefer the one on one time more," she said, voice pitching lower. Her soft fingertips stopped just above where he wanted them to go, playing with his stomach hairs teasingly.
"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be me if I couldn't give you all the one on one you could handle," he said, chest puffing out and hand sliding down over the swell of her hip.
"Get started, Mister Findlay," she whispered. If there was any way to banish the image of a monster from her mind, this had to be it.
Leviathan - Deep Space
Stars blurred by, Zagara watching dully from her position in the cortex of the Leviathan. From the floor protruded heavy tentacles that wrapped around the brood mother, pinning her firmly in place.
A door opened, interrupting the gentle rumbling of the massive ships organs. "We are almost there," a soft voice whispered, echoing in the familiar manner of the infested terrans.
Shifting her crested head, Zagara tore her gaze away from the stars to look at the intruder in annoyance. "What do you want, insect?" she said.
Diminutive already, Ariel Hanson squatted down until she was just a lump in front of the door. Her eyes gleamed behind offset glasses, hair dangling in her face. "I want to know why a man like Tychus let you live," she said.
"Keep wondering fleshling," Zagara hissed, looking away sharply. "I have nothing to say."
"What is being hidden?" Ariel prodded, cool and collected. Higher functioning infested terrans tended to be a bit...eccentric, but this one was cold and calculating. Like a certain Evolution Master.
The thought of Abathur raised Zagara's hackles, setting her to rocking back and forth in impotent rage. "He is a fool leading us to our end, nothing more," she snapped.
"You are concealing something," Ariel raised a clawed fingertip, "not that."
"Leave me," Zagara warned.
"Secrets are like gaps in the oneness we share," skittering forwards on all fours, Ariel stopped just shy of being reachable.
"GO!" the brood mother bellowed then, a clawed hand swiping out between her bindings but coming up short of reaching the pest.
"Obvious, but I am not strong enough to pry," Ariel leaned back on her heels, eyebrows raising in surprise at the attack.
Zagara pulled her hands back to their resting place, looking out to the stars once more and pointedly ignoring the terran pest.
"Very well, keep your secret. I imagine all will be revealed soon enough," Ariel shrugged, turning and making her way back to the fleshy door. As the door squished open, she paused. "I only hope you are wrong about him, as wrong as I was an then some; or our children will suffer."
"They will," Zagara said, glaring out the view port.