Finally, Stukov heard the lift to the bridge come to life. He had been aware of them the moment they were in range of his limited telepathic abilities. He had opened and shut the hangar door for them and made sure the elevators were working. They had taken their time, and he didn't know why—he could sense them at a distance but not hear their thoughts. He attributed their slow movement to fear.

Good. Let them be afraid.

Stukov reached out to the infestation around him. Black tendrils snaked down from the ceiling and wrapped around his torso and arms. They then hoisted him up and out of sight. He mimicked the posture Izsha took on Kerrigan's leviathan. He would wait for them, let them talk, read them and learn what they knew of the Directorate's mission. He would then decide whether to reveal himself to them—or not. The infestation closed around him as the door to the lift opened. A group of four, two men—marines—and two women, probably, he reasoned, the shuttle flight crew. Their voices were muffled by their helmets, but he could still hear and read them because of his enhanced hearing and weak telepathy.

"Why Admiral Stukov though? Why not DuGalle or something?" One of the marines said.

"He didn't tell us."

"I don't know anything about the guy, but that dude definitely had a drinking problem. No one keeps that much alcohol around that isn't an alcoholic."

"He was apparently a high-functioning one."

"He had five kinds of vodka. No one can function drinking that much vodka."

"Well, he ain't functioning at all anymore, so he ain't gonna miss 'em"

Crass, Stukov thought. He wondered why were they talking about him and why they had they been in his quarters. One of them had a bag he recognized from his closet. The call of the zerg surged in his mind. Kerrigan's leviathan was close. He stopped listening and started reading them as one of the marines began extracting data from a computer terminal with a data tap device. One marine was still thinking about what he had stolen from his quarters. The other knew much more. There would be an attack on Tarsonis. They hoped to take over the Dominion—or the Republic as they called it now, but of course they don't know that, he thought—and then eradicate the zerg. But they were wading into a situation that they did not understand. There was a relatively stable peace between the human factions in the sector, the zerg, and the protoss. If Tarsonis was attacked, the human factions would rally, and Artanis would no doubt come to the aid of his terran allies. The zerg, under Zagara, would remain neutral unless provoked, but might also be persuaded to fight against them. It would be a war on three fronts and bloody. They had a much larger force than then he and DuGalle had with the Expeditionary Fleet, but that would not matter. All three races were licking their wounds from the war-torn last decade, but if they banded together—and they would band together—they would most likely repel them. And if they didn't, all sides would sustain heavy losses. He would not speak to them. I'll leave them to their folly. This time would be different. The zerg were not led by a vengeful Kerrigan, and while Zagara was ruthless, she only cared about her Swarm. She would have reason to defeat the fleet but not destroy it utterly as Kerrigan had. If they did not win, they would have the opportunity to surrender; he hoped they would take it.

He scanned one of the women and found nothing interesting. But this one... He saw images mostly. An old ID card with his picture. That's how they got in my quarters. His dress uniform with his name on it. Strange. He didn't care about any of the items they took. The alcohol was useless to him and so was the dress uniform. But then, a young man, a ghost, he recognized. A dread settled into his stomach—something he hadn't felt in a long time. But he wasn't sure—his mind was not the same. Still, if it was who he thought it was, he had to do something.

Silently he drove the infestation away and lowered himself from the ceiling behind the girl whose mind he had just read. She must have seen him in her peripheral vision, because she turned towards him slowly and then screamed in terror, dropping to her knees. Both the marines turned to face him, raising their weapons. He raised his hands in response.

"Come now, gentlemen, there's no need for violence."

They opened fire. Stukov's arm swiped out at one, knocking him over. He disappeared into the infestation on the deck. The other he pinned to the wall and let the infestation creep over him. He turned his attention back to the two women. One of the women shot him in the back with her handgun, but it glanced off his infested shoulder blade. It hurt but healed almost immediately. He pinned her to the wall as well. The other girl was still on the floor screaming.

"I am Vice Admiral Alexei..." He began, but the girl would not stop yelling. "Stop that. I'm not going to hurt you," he said gruffly. He stared at her for a moment, and slowly some of the fear in her face left. "Are you done now?" He said sarcastically. But then he felt a twinge of sympathy. She was just a kid; she had never encountered the zerg before, and she had just come in contact with what appeared to be the twisted, bloated, reanimated corpse of a UED officer—and she probably thought she would share his fate. He would have to treat them with more humanity than he had needed to muster in a long time.

"It's okay. Really. Let me start over. I'm Vice Admiral Alexei Stukov," he said, gentler this time, stooping down to her level.

"You're supposed to be dead!" Dauphin said fearfully.

"That information is sadly outdated."

"You've been living here all this time?"

"No, it's more complicated than that. But it doesn't matter. Who are you?" He straightened again and offered her a hand to help her up. It took a moment for her to take it and to answer.

"I'm Captain Carolyn Dauphin... The girl that shot you was my navigator, Lieutenant Katie Dean... Those two men are Sargent Joseph Chang and Corporal Joaquin Hernandez..."

"And who is the commander of the fleet?"

"Admiral Troy Reeves."

Stukov swore quietly. He knew him. Stukov didn't outright dislike many people, but he'd never had time for Reeves's mixture of pomposity, genteel bullshit, and incompetence. This would make what he needed to do even harder.

"I must go to him. Give me your fleet's coordinates."

"I'm not doing tha—" He read her mind.

"Thank you."

He willed the Aleksander to move. Dauphin's face went white as the engines began to spin up; she was clearly frightened by his psionic ability. She would be even more frightened by the leviathan I'm sending to meet us there. His ability to read them faded as they reached FTL speeds.

"They'll shoot you down," Dauphin said, her voice quivering.

"Do they value your lives so little?"

The Aleksander dropped out of FTL. Stukov opened a comm line and sent his credentials. There was no answer. Stukov turned back to Dauphin. "Which carrier is Reeves on? Do they have a special frequency?"

She hesitated.

"If they don't hear from us, you're correct, they will shoot us down."

"He's on the Kuznetsov. That's where we were all stationed." She showed him the frequency.

"UED carrier Kuznetsov, this is Vice Admiral Alexei Stukov. I will rebroadcast my credentials. I request to speak with Admiral Troy Reeves."

"Vice Admiral Stukov, this is Kuznetsov tower. We're patching you through." There was a moment of dead air. Then, the Aleksander's bridge viewscreen came on. On it was the sanguine face of Admiral Troy Reeves. To Stukov, his mutton chops and elaborate grey beard made him look like something out of an American Civil War film. And like an idiot. He spoke to him without looking away from his control panel.

"Stukov? You had better have a good damn reason to be still alive." Reeves finally looked at him and the color drained from his face. "Lord have mercy, what have you done? You're..."

"Infested. That is the word you are looking for."

A queer smile played at Reeves's lips. He seemed to be enjoying Stukov's suffering. What a smug asshole.

"Even so, Admiral," Reeves said, letting his antebellum drawl lengthen his words, "you've got a lot of nerve coming crawling back to the fleet."

"And you have some nerve coming back to this sector after what happened to our expedition."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not yet I'm not, Troy."

Reeves bristled. He was one of those people who wanted to be called by their title no matter the situation and Stukov knew it.

"If you're zerg now, you're a traitor. I'll shoot you down myself. Tactical!"

"Captain Dauphin... Will you come here for a moment and tell your superior a little about yourself?"

He heard Dauphin swallow hard as she stepped into view of his comm's pickup.

"Hello, Admiral. I'm Captain Carolyn Dauphin. I'm a shuttle pilot based on the Kuznetsov, and I was assigned to the Aleksander salvage mission."

"You've taken hostages."

"I prefer to think of them as my guests."

Reeves's face flushed with anger. "How are you being treated? Where is your navigator and your marine detachment?"

"I'm fine... But everyone else..."

"They're being restrained, and they are unharmed... for now."

"What do you want, Stukov?"

"To talk."

"About what?"

"About the mistakes you are about to make. I will not help you, but I can steer you towards allies and tell you how to minimize casualties, though I hope after speaking with me you may change your mind and return to Earth."

"Do you think me a coward?"

"No, but I hope you're not the fool I always thought you were. I will board the carrier Kuznetsov in one hour and will return your people to you. We will talk then. Be ready."

Stukov cut the comm line. He turned to Dauphin. "Thank you for being cooperative."

"What else could I have done?"

"You could have screamed. You could have goaded him to fire."

"I could have... But I don't have a death wish. I just work here."

"Hah! With that attitude, you may just survive..." He looked away for a moment, trying to figure out what he should do next. It would be unwise to tell them who he thought their "collector" was—it could be used against him. But he needed to get a message to him to tell him he was alive, or at least not dead, instruct him to leave the fleet whenever there was an opportunity, and, of course, that he would help him. It was a possibility that this person was not who he thought he was, but there were too many coincidences. The image he saw in Dauphin's mind, the ID card that only could have been retrieved from his home on Earth, and wanting to find some token of him from the Aleksander. If it was him, it was wise to have not told them his name. The less obvious ties he had to him would keep him out of harm's way—for now. "My ID card... May I see it?"

"What?"

"My ID card. You have it."

"Oh! How did you?"

He made a motion with his hand for her to give it up. Dauphin rummaged around in the bag and gave him the card. He examined it. Inside, there was a wireless chip. He placed it on the console. It was old, but so was the ship. He was able to access the card through the ship's computer. The storage was full, but if he deleted his thumbprint and his credentials, he could type several novels worth of text to him; Stukov only needed a short message. Finished, he gave the card back to Dauphin. "When you see him, give him this." She turned it over in her hand and put it in her pocket.

"What's in it for me?"

"I won't kill you? And you can keep all that..." he said, gesturing to the bag, "I don't care about any of it."

"Who is he?"

"I'm... not sure."

"You just don't want to tell me." He ignored her.

"I think it's about time we got ready to leave, yes?" Stukov let KD out of the infestation in the corner. She fell from the wall, coughing. Dauphin ran to her.

"God... I had my mouth open..."

"Are you okay?"

"I think that's the most disgusting thing that's ever happened to me." Stukov watched them interact. How old are they? he thought, Twenty-five maybe? Children—all of them. Younger than my own would be now... Sent out here for what reason? Conquest? To protect Earth? When he left Earth, his children were young. Would I even recognize them now? Would they recognize me?

KD noticed Stukov watching them.

"Hey, what are you staring at?" she snapped. Dauphin shushed her.

"Do you want to provoke him? Really?"

"I'm sorry about restraining you. But you shot at me and didn't leave me much of a choice."

He was angry at none of them—not even the marines. They reminded him of the men and women under him on the Aleksander. His mind was different now, but he remembered their names if not their faces. He always had an unwise sentimentality towards his young recruits, tending to act paternally towards them. Many responded to it, some didn't. Either way, he tried to be a fatherly figure—if not a crazy, Slavic uncle.

Gerard on the other hand... Stukov had men and women that were loyal to him over DuGalle. He was neither a taskmaster nor a micromanager, of which DuGalle had a tendency to be both—even with him. He could only imagine what Reeves was like. It infuriated him to know his death—and DuGalle's-had most likely precipitated Reeves's promotion.

Stukov looked at the time on the console. They needed to start moving towards the hangar bay. With a thought, the infestation pulled the two marines further into the wall.

"What are you doing?" KD exclaimed, "He's killing them!"

"No, I'm not. They're uncooperative. I can't trust them to walk to the hangar bay on their own power. They're going there my way. Now, unless you'd like to join them..." Stukov gestured to the lift as the door chimed and opened. Both women were quiet as he ushered them in and escorted them down to the hangar bay. When they got there, the two men were in chrysalises in the hangar. Stukov and Dauphin loaded them onto the shuttle, and Stukov commanded KD sternly to stay in the back with them. He took the pilot's seat without protest from Dauphin. When he looked back, KD had gotten into the duffel bag and had fished out a bottle of schnapps. He had no idea where it had come from. It must have been Gerard's. At least it will keep her quiet.

Once at the controls, he found little had changed in their design since he had been gone. He opened the hangar bay door and maneuvered the shuttle out. The UED fleet spread out before him, shining ships stretching as far as he could see. He counted at least four carriers—floating bases, larger than protoss capital ships but smaller than a city—and hundreds of battlecruisers flanked by smaller vessels, some of makes Stukov didn't recognize. With the fleet in front of him, Stukov couldn't help feeling pride and nostalgia.

"That's... Quite impressive," Stukov said quietly.

"Do you still think we can't win?"

"Yes."

Stukov radioed the Kuznetsov's tower, warning them of his approach and that he had his "hostages" on board in case they got the idea to shoot him down. The tower directed him to a hangar. As he touched down, a group of six marines and a med team filed in to meet the shuttle. Good. They've underestimated me. I might make it out of here alive. He stood, reaching into one of the chrysalises with his infested arm, withdrawing Chang's rifle. KD staggered away from him, at once both tipsy and afraid. Stukov didn't need the gun, but he wanted to look like he did.

"Carolyn," he said calmly, "I'm going to do something that you're not going to like." Dauphin's head snapped towards him, her eyes wide. "I'm going to lead you out at gunpoint. Know that I have no intention of shooting you. It's just for show."

"O-okay."

Stukov opened the shuttle hatch. "Come. You first." He let Dauphin walk in front of him. "Stay back!" he yelled at the marines in the hangar. "I have a hostage. If you try anything, I will kill her. The rest of your people are onboard the shuttle. Take me to Reeves. The sooner I see him, the sooner I will leave you." As soon as he had cleared the shuttle, the med team swooped through the hatch to help Chang, KD, and Hernandez. The marines formed a pack around Stukov and escorted him down the hallway. After walking for a few minutes, they came to a conference room. Inside, Reeves stood from his chair at the conference table, red-faced and already apoplectic. Behind him was a ceiling-to-floor window looking onto the fleet, the view perhaps chosen, Stukov thought, to intimidate him.

"I don't know what is going on in that diseased brain of yours, but you've got five minutes to submit to my command or I will..."

"Hello, Troy. Good to see you as well." He pulled out a chair for Dauphin, his gun still trained on her. He then pulled one out for himself and sat down, making a show of getting himself comfortable, even flipping his hat off onto the table.

"Whatever it is you want, Stukov, you're not getting it."

"You should hope I do. I want you and your people to live; I want you to turn around and go home."

"Do you doubt the strength of the UED Destroyer Fleet?"

"I doubt it as much as I should have doubted the Expeditionary Fleet. You're not here with a clear picture of the dangers of this sector. You need to come to this with," he stopped, realizing he was echoing the past, "... your eyes open. Otherwise..." he gestured with his free hand at himself, "This is your future. All that is here is death."

"Ridiculous. We have almost the entire Earth sector military at our disposal. We will conquer the colonies and subdue the protoss—and the zerg."

"Is that so? Perhaps you need a little dose of reality." Stukov reached out with his mind to his leviathan. A specially bred brood queen departed from it to the fleet. He selected a battlecruiser far from the Kuznetsov but close enough to view from the conference room's window. In seconds, the Kusnetsov's alarm klaxons began ringing. Reeves stood and went to a control panel on the wall.

"Bridge, status report."

"We're under attack—from the zerg. And it's... spreading?"

"What?"

There was a bright flash outside the window. Reeves turned, watching in horror as the infested ship's main engine blew. A neighboring battlecruiser had fired upon it to immobilize it, but it was too late. Tendrils of infestation had latched onto the second battlecruiser. It tried to pull away but could not and began to break up. This was not what Stukov wanted. He willed the infestation to keep it together. Another tendril snaked out and penetrated a supply freighter nearby. Broodlings swarmed on its hull as the contagion spread and took hold. Reeves looked on, horrified, as more ships were caught up in Stukov's virulent pestilence.

"This is the reality of the zerg. There is very little to be done in defense. They are a single-minded enemy, wanting only to survive and conquer. I have immense power, but even I'm not powerful enough to rule them."

"You... you did this? Stop it, Stukov! Stop it right now!"

It didn't bother him that Reeves was scared. He should have been. It was only when Dauphin looked at him, frightened and betrayed, that the coldness of the Swarm in him abated. Stukov felt conflicted. He should not have put that many lives at risk to make a point. The infestation withdrew at his command, but he kept the most damaged ship from breaking up.

"The effects are temporary. If you have any firebats, send them in. They should be able to remove any lingering infestation."

The alarms stopped abruptly. "Status," Reeves barked into the communication console.

"The zerg have retreated. Casualty reports coming in... injuries reported but no deaths. Medical is putting the exposed into quarantine."

"Five ships in thirty seconds... I could have decimated your fleet today, and there are billions more zerg than those I control. Do you like those odds?"

"Then fight with us."

"No. But I will help you under these conditions: you keep the Kuznetsov off the front lines and you don't use your ghosts."

"Why these conditions?"

"Ghosts are useless against the zerg," he lied, "and you will need some way to rebuild your fleet if your 'war' goes as badly as I know it will. If you keep to these conditions, I will introduce you to the factions in this sector which may help you—the Tal'darim, for instance—and speak to the leaders of the zerg on your behalf."

"That's all? We attack Tarsonis in six hours. You can't be more help than that?"

Stukov shrugged. "If you want me to look over your battle plans, I'll send you my recommendations. But that's all I will do."

"Stukov," Reeves said, his voice lowering as he leaned in conspiratorially, "we're not doing this just because we can. You know what the situation was when you left—now it's only worse. Our colonies are failing because of our wars with them. The population of Earth is too large for its resources... Inhabitable planets are a dime a dozen here... We need the Koprulu sector and its worlds to survive."

"Then send colony ships and settle! No one will stop you. There's no need to resort to conquest."

Anger seethed in Reeves's face as he realized that Stukov was steadfast in his conviction to not assist him fully.

"I always thought you were lazy... uncouth... hiding in your lab swilling vodka with your dick in your hand after your wife left you... And that's all you're doing now." Stukov laughed, surprised at how easily his mask of gentility slipped. He also now realized the depth of Reeves's apparent loathing of him. Had he done something to him back in the academy? Had he slighted him in some way? If he did, he didn't remember and hadn't been trying. He disliked Reeves but rarely had even thought about him, and yet Reeves remembered his post, that he'd been having problems with alcohol, and somehow knew his wife had left him. Stukov vaguely recalled that Reeves was married and that his husband was a musician of some sort. They had few friends in common, and there was no reason for Reeves to know that much about him. Stukov thought that he definitely had some sort of complex.

"I'm touched you remember so much about me, Troy. Do you know my children's names as well? The brand of cologne I wear? Or is that too esoteric? If we're done, I'm leaving. The Captain here will take me back to my ship, and then I'll be on my way."

"Are you all right with that, Captain Dauphin?"

"I'm... I'm fine," Dauphin mumbled. Putting on his cap, Stukov got up and escorted Dauphin to the door. As he left, Reeves gave him an odd look. Instead of following them out, he walked to the comm station and began speaking quietly into it. Stukov and Dauphin stepped out into the hallway. The same marines followed them through the ship, but, curiously, took them a different way.

"Where are they taking us, Carolyn?"

"The hangar bay. This just takes us to the other end."

"They're wasting time." Stukov knew something was up.

Stukov and Dauphin entered the hangar bay from the far side, away from the shuttle. As they made their way to it, Reeves entered from the other side, leading a tall, thin man in handcuffs. When they got closer, he threw him to his knees and pointed a handgun to his head. The man looked up at them, wide eyed.

"Greg?" Dauphin exclaimed.

"Gregory..." Stukov said, anguished. Gregory turned to him, recognizing his voice. He squinted at him, confused.

"Papa?"

"This reunion is touching, but it will be fleeting..." Reeves said, his face beaming with satisfaction. "'Don't use any ghosts,' you said. Of course I looked at the roster, and, for the record, yes, I do remember your children's names." A white-hot anger burned in Stukov. His hand tightened on his rifle as he wondered if he could get a shot off without Reeves killing his son. Or if he could lash out and strike him. "You have four children, correct? This is your youngest? If you don't submit to my authority and join the attack on Tarsonis right now, I'm blowing your son's brains out right here. Then, I'm sending a message home declaring you a traitor, and suggesting they round up the rest of your children and kill them as well. It's a pity your ex-wife isn't around anymore; I'd have her killed too."

"She's... dead?"

"Hah! You didn't know? Well, that makes this all the more fun, doesn't it?" He cocked the pistol and Greg flinched.

"You can't threaten him! He's one of your own men!" Dauphin blurted out.

"Keep quiet, girl. I'll do as I wish," Reeves said, his anger rising. He pushed the gun against Greg's temple.

Stukov was stunned. He had no idea that his ex-wife had died. When did it happen? How? And now he'd put his entire family in danger. He should never have come here. But it was too late, and now he had no choice.

"Stop," Stukov said, putting his gun on the ground, "I submit. Just... don't shoot him." Reeves motioned to one of the marines.

"Take him to the brig," he said, indicating Greg, "He'll be safe there... For now. As for you, Admiral."

"Vice admiral. I guess you don't remember everything."

"Oh, but I do. I watched the vids of your funeral—with pleasure, I might add. Afterwards, they made a big show of awarding you a tombstone promotion. Better late than never, I suppose. So, Admiral Stukov, you will gather your forces and meet us at Tarsonis in five hours. You will continue from there with the fleet and assist us in subjugating the Koprulu sector. If you are insubordinate, late, cowardly, or just fucking annoy me, your son will die. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes... sir."

"Then get out of my sight."


Note: I know that's not how tombstone promotions work, but, hey, it's the future and a fascist regime. Also, I made Stukov divorced/ a widower because his obit doesn't mention a wife. So, either he had four kids with different people, or he was divorced/ a widower. I don't really like the first one, and it doesn't jive with his character, though knowing Blizzard it may have been what they jokingly intended at the time.