From the observation deck of the Aleksander, Stukov spread his infestation towards the minefield. As the pestilence found the mines, he felt the familiar foreignness of the protoss in his mind. When he infested a terran structure, there was biomass in it that he could sense and build on. Bacteria, mold, fungus, and the bio-electric circuitry that made up the low-level AI that inhabited most of their tech allowed him to seep in, infect, and take control, weaving tendrils around it and manipulating it to his will. Protoss technology was monolithic. There were no seams, and the metal they used was non-porous and sterile with few imperfections on which monocellular organisms could hide. Each mine in the vast field before him—that he could not see but he knew was there—he had to grope for in the dark with his infestation. Landing on it, penetrating each mine was like grabbing hold of a mollusk and trying to crush it open with a bare hand. Even then, he could only hold them for a while, enough to cause them to be visible and to stop nearby ones from replicating. But it was enough. Alarak saw what he was doing and capitalized on it, quickly dispatching any that suddenly appeared with either his mothership's interceptors or his destroyers. Soon, the gap was wide enough for Stukov and Alarak's fleets to move through.
But Alarak did not have to wait for Stukov or his own fleet. He watched from the observation deck of the Aleksander as the Tal'Darim mothership, the Wrath of the Ardent, disappeared from beside his leviathans and reappeared in the middle of the Umojan fleet. He felt a wave of panic and remorse. It was the Umojan admiral that had met with him and wanted to help, And now I may have consigned her to death. He was responsible for the Tal'Darim entering the conflict, but he had no way of knowing that the strategy Artanis would employ would be so easily circumvented by the combination of his and Alarak's forces.
Some of the UED fleet was able to join them, but the gap in the minefield was not large enough for the carriers to pass. Reeves had been too eager, in fact, and had already lost one of his carriers to the minefield, moving it too far forward of the UED line before anyone knew what their defenses were.
Careless, Stukov thought, letting his bravado get the better of him. It was not a mistake he would have made, and he was glad that he had told Reeves to keep the Kuznetsov off the front lines. It had spared Reeves's life, but also his son's.
But he had made a mistake, and for it he had been punished. Reeves had been furious when he learned Stukov had offered Tyrador as the prize for helping subjugate the Koprulu sector. He had been advised to offer them any territory other than Korhal, Tarsonis, or Umoja, but Reeves had apparently thought Tyrador was too valuable as well. As such, he refused to let him see his son. What does he care anyway? He will go back on his promise. When Alarak has ceased being useful, Reeves will turn on him—as he will eventually me. Alarak has as much chance keeping Tyrador as I do my life. Stukov knew that the incident had been just an excuse to keep him submissive—and to flaunt Reeves's authority over him before Alarak, so that Alarak knew who was "really" in charge.
The bulk of the black Tal'darim ships formed a line with the Wrath of the Ardent to engage the Umojan and Terran Republic fleet. But there were also other ships bearing markings with which he was all too familiar: Moebius Corp. He was startled by their appearance; he thought that they had been destroyed. He reasoned that the Terran Republic had repurposed their ships without having time to slap on a fresh coat of paint. But that doesn't mean I can't engage in some catharsis blasting them out of orbit. Stukov maneuvered his fleet around them, separating them from the rest of the fleet to annihilate them with his infested liberators and mutalisks.
But he couldn't let himself get distracted from his true strategy: to land his troops on both planets first before Alarak's ascendants could begin tearing their way through the population of each planets' major cities. It would be a mental and physical strain for him, dividing his attention, but it would have to be done. Alarak cared little for human life, and less for human life that was in the way of his people's prosperity. Tarsonis all over again, except with the protoss at my back.
He looked out over the twin planets ahead of him. The larger, Tyrador IX further away and the smaller, less populous Tyrador VIII closer, its cities glowing in the twilight of space. Stukov opened his mind to his brood. Izsha promptly answered him aboard Kerrigan's leviathan. He could feel her almost-human mind signaling her readiness to descend to Tyrador VIII to supervise the invasion there.
Abathur was onboard the leviathan as well, but he made Stukov wait. Before coming here, Stukov had asked Abathur for a great deal and now he was sulking. The two of them got along well enough, but Abathur wanted mainly to be left alone to improve the Swarm—not make weapons of war. He finally signaled his readiness.
The leviathans divided, positioning over each planet's seas. Both planets had vast oceans, and he planned to use that to his advantage. There were no defenses there to alert the armies to their presence, and no one would expect an invasion from that direction. Once in position, the leviathans dropped all his troops—drones, SCVs, the infested—silently into the waves. This had been what he had Abathur working on—advantageous modifications that allowed the infested and his zerg units to move quickly underwater, and for his nydus canals to work there as well. Barracks and command centers were now busily being built in the shallows of both planets' main harbors. The infested began walking swiftly along the bottom of the ocean, up the breakers and onto the shore. Ironically, he realized, it would have been a nice day to be at the beach on Tyrador IX.
From above, he watched the evacuation efforts. New Canaan and Escalero were both large metropolises, and like Tarsonis City, evacuating them completely was most likely impossible. And now with an accelerated timetable courtesy of the Tal'darim, they would have less time to do it. Making note of their rendezvous points on the outskirts of each city, he bent the rising tide of his infested to maneuver around them and to engage military targets.
The Terran Republic military was on the ground in both cities in force. They had learned from the last battle and had invested mostly in banshees and siege tanks. But his numbers were too many, and they had guessed incorrectly the direction from which his forces would appear. From above, Umojan shadowguards and marines began shooting down at his infested troops as they marched towards the center of the city. In response, he summoned one of his large ultralisks, using it to push one of the buildings over, causing a domino effect. As it crashed into the building next to it and that building fell on their line, the Terran Republic's troops began to retreat. Another squadron of banshees moved in. Stukov moved his own liberators and banshees in to engage them, and then unleashed his infestation. It was a scare tactic; he wanted to push as many civilians out of the city before Alarak could touch down.
He reached out to his units still in space. Artanis had positioned his carriers between the Wrath of the Ardent and the Umojan line. The UED carriers were still behind the minefield, but most of their smaller units had penetrated it. The Umojans and Artanis were slowing him down, but the Wrath of the Ardent was still advancing incrementally towards Tyrandor IX. Stukov assessed the situation in Escalero and New Canaan. He was making good progress, but some people were stupidly stubborn, trying to hide out in buildings with their valuables instead of leaving. But this would not be like Tarsonis City. There was not a human army incoming, but an army of militant, blood-thirsty protoss. Stukov only hoped that the hordes of his "zombie" thralls would be enough to convince them their houses and possessions were not worth their lives before the protoss were planetside.
The visual feed from the bridge of the Uhuru still showed the underbelly of the Wrath of the Ardent as they backed away and out of range of their interceptors. Liberators screamed by, trying to deal with the small, swift fighters. The deck of the bridge began to tremble under Marín's feet.
"What is…" Marín began. But it became apparent immediately where the noise was coming from. Below the Uhuru, the Spear of Adun lumbered towards the Wrath of the Ardent, flanked by a mass of protoss carriers.
"Incoming transmission from the Spear of Adun, Admiral."
"Put it on screen, Barre."
Artanis appeared with Vorazun in the background. Vorazun yelled something she could not make out over the comm to their troops. Artanis began to speak.
"This is our folly, Admiral, and our wayward brethren. We should be the ones to engage them! Let us take on the Wrath of the Ardent!"
"Artanis…" Marín said, beginning to protest. But he had already turned away and was ordering his people to protect the Umojan fleet. An explosion shook the Spear of Adun and they lost the visual feed.
"The Vrede is hailing us," Barre said.
"Open a channel."
Augustin's face appeared on the screen.
"Marín. The Vrede has taken heavy damage. We're adrift here, but not in immediate danger thanks to Artanis. I have new orders for you. I can keep an eye on the situation here and use the Edge Fleet to assist the Daelaam, but I need someone to keep as many vessels from reaching Tyrador VIII and Tyrador IX as possible."
"If you're adrift, you need evac…"
"I have it in hand. We can get the damage repaired in time. Close the gap, Marín."
"Yes, sir."
The channel closed and Marín pulled the fleet's movements up on the war table. With her hand, she sketched out each battlecruiser's new position as well as the new movements for each liberator and banshee squadron. She quickly sent them on.
"Patch me through to the fleet, Barre."
"Aye."
"As most of you are likely aware, the Tal'darim have joined the fight against us here at Tyrador. Thankfully, the Daelaam have stepped up to challenge them along with the Edge Fleet. Our orders now are to impede the UED from moving beyond the minefield and towards Tyrador IX and VIII. New orders are incoming. Good luck to you all."
Marín turned back towards her crew. She was loathe to leave the rest of the fleet with the Wrath of the Ardent and the Daelaam, especially with the Vrede disabled.
"Take us out, Ahlberg."
"Yes, ma'am."
Marín watched as the view from the bridge changed. The Uhuru banked away from the giant carriers and motherships of the protoss and towards the UED fleet, which was kept at bay by the invisible mine field. The only indication of the hole in the minefield was the faint green fog of infestation and small explosions caused by the destroyers targeting newly replicated mines. Ships slipped through intermittently, but the gap never widened enough for the UED carriers to slip through.
Well that's one thing less to worry about.
The infestation was a problem though. If they got too near, it would affect them, and they couldn't directly target it. But it didn't look as though it could keep the gap open on its own.
"Ahlberg, tell the fleet to focus on the destroyers. If we can draw their focus or take them down, the gap will narrow. And tell them to keep away from the infestation!"
Ahlberg busied himself with tapping out messages and talking to the fleet on his headset.
"The infirmary reports that, uh, 'Nova' is awake and is asking to speak to you," Barre said.
Marín took a deep breath. The ghost was finally awake, but her timing was awful. Then again, the Uhuru was not in any immediate danger. She could perhaps risk going down to try to persuade her.
Ahlberg watched her, knowing what she was thinking.
"Go talk to her. I've got it handled up here."
"What?"
"Whatever you're going to do, do it. We trust you. Go."
Marín hesitated for a moment.
"Pull Gavran back. I may need him."
"Aye," Ahlberg said, not questioning the order.
When Marín entered the infirmary, Nova was propped up on her medical bed, restraints on both her arms and legs and the disrupter collar around her neck. She glowered at Marín as she entered. Marín ignored her and sat down in the chair beside her bed.
"It's Nova, right? I don't think we've been properly introduced."
"I demand that you contact my superiors. If they know what you've done…"
"I already have, I'm afraid. Admiral Horner is distancing himself from your mission—and from Valerian—whom I'd like to add has no jurisdiction here or in the Terran Republic fleet."
Nova's eyes narrowed at her, giving her an icy blue stare.
"I don't believe you."
"Well, I'm here and they're not. And you're going to stay here for the duration of this conflict or until this ship is destroyed. If we survive, I will deliver you to the proper Umojan authorities to answer to the charges of assaulting a flag officer and attempted theft of the property of the Umojan government."
"This is ridiculous. My orders were to assassinate Stukov. I need to continue my mission."
"I can't let you do that."
"Are you crazy? That half-zerg… thing is out there infesting your own troops and you won't let me borrow your ship to go and neutralize him?"
"Did they tell you why he's on the side of the UED?"
"He is UED!"
"I'll take that as a no. Stukov is being blackmailed into working for the Directorate. He came to us for help, and we denied him."
"So? Why would we help the zerg or the Directorate or whatever this monster is? If Valerian called me in to take out the trash, he had a good reason."
Marín sighed and released one of Nova's wrist restraints. She pressed her datapad into her hand. On it was the information Stukov had provided about his son. Nova eyed the datapad suspiciously.
"What am I looking at?"
"That's Stukov's son. He's a ghost serving in the UED fleet. They've taken him hostage. That is how they're blackmailing Stukov."
"He's a ghost?"
"Yes."
"He looks… young."
"He is."
Nova was quiet for a moment. Marín thought that maybe she was getting through to her.
"Does he… remember him?"
"Yes."
Nova was silent again, thumbing through the report. She gave Marín a sideways glance.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"Because I want to make a deal with you."
"What?"
"I'll drop the charges against you—I am the one, after all, who would have to bring them—if you will carry out an… alternate mission for me."
"And what is that?"
"Instead of boarding the Aleksander, we're going to board the Kuznetsov—and get that kid off of it."
Nova put the datapad down quickly, slapping her leg with it in the process.
"Are you crazy? That would be much more dangerous than killing Stukov. I'm not doing that. The simplest thing is to eliminate the real problem, not try to negotiate with it."
Marín stood to leave.
"Suit yourself then. Rot in jail for… I don't know… A decade? I think that's the minimum sentence you would get for those crimes…"
Nova sighed.
"Just give me the wraith and I'll do it myself. There's no reason for you to get involved."
"Yes, there is. I don't trust you. If I gave you my wraith, you'd just go and complete your mission. With me, you'll have to do what I say. And you can't tell me you don't want to help that kid. A ghost—like you—that's in over his head due to no fault of his own."
Nova looked at the dossier again as it laid in her lap. She sighed.
"Fine. But when we get aboard that ship, you listen to me got it?"
"You're the infiltration specialist."
Marín let her out of her restraints but waited to remove the collar. She hoped that she was making the right decision. She remembered what Vermaak had said to her. But these are desperate times. I have to do something.
Marín escorted Nova to the hangar bay, where Capt. Gavran was waiting, his liberator ready for takeoff. Gavran gave a half-hearted salute without getting up, knowing Marín didn't care, but also knowing he should show some respect. Marín greeted him. Gavran was one of the Uhuru's best pilots. He'd survived many battles, and he looked the part. He was a weathered-looking man with slicked-back black hair—and the kind of person who looked tired and rumpled no matter what time of day it was.
"So, uh, orders didn't say where we were going…"
"We'll talk about that once we're out," Marín said, slipping into the navigator's seat. One of his thick eyebrows raised as Nova came aboard. She ignored him as he turned back over the pilot's seat to watch her sit down in the back.
"Oh, well, hello there."
"Eyes on your instruments, please."
He turned back slowly, chuckling, and closed the hatch. Gavran got clearance to leave. Looking out of the hanger, Marín realized their mission would be much more dangerous than it appeared from the bridge of the Uhuru. The space around them was thick with Tal'darim, zerg, and UED units. Marín felt suddenly selfish. Was it too much of a risk? Was this worth it? To his credit, Gavran was nonplussed by the sight outside, despite Marín most likely having a longer service record. But his life is his own. I'm responsible for both of them—that's the difference. The ship glided forward and out of the ship.
"Where to, Admiral?"
"Not sure. I'm looking for a vessel—a UED vessel."
"What kind?"
"A shuttle," Marín said, using the navigation console to scan the area. "From the Kuznetsov. We're going to find and follow one."
"Okay, you're the boss."
Gavran banked out of the Uhuru in a way that almost threw Marín out of her seat and continued to recklessly pilot his way towards the minefield. But there was a reason for his quick movements. It was not as easy for enemy ships to get a target lock on him. He wound his way through the Core Fleet line, dodging Tal'darim ships and trying to keep out of the way of other liberators. They got as close to the gap in the minefield as they could, and Gavran tried not to stay in any one place very long.
Marín scanned the area. Moments went by. Medivac ships, wraiths—still in use by the UED—their version of the liberator, and several battlecruisers went by. Finally, a shuttle that Marín tracked back to the Kusnetsov came near.
"That one. Follow it."
"Yes, ma'am."
Gavran shadowed the vessel, not keeping close to it, but keeping it within scanner range. As they followed it past the Edge Fleet's line, they had a few close calls with Tal'darim interceptors. Interceptors—both Tal'darim and Daelaam—battled fiercely against one another with a quickness that was hard to watch for very long. The Vrede, still adrift, began listing in space. An arbitor, noticing its plight, nudged it with its beam, trying to tractor it away from the fighting. It was not very successful. Streams of both infested terran and UED vessels trickled past, engaged now and then by Umojan and Republic vessels. And in the background were the two planets, zerg units hovering above them.
The shuttle turned towards Tyrador IX. As they came in closer, Marín took note of the bifurcation of the zerg and UED troops. The zerg were coming to the fight from the ocean, and the UED were taking the brunt of the attacks from Tyrador IX's defenses. Waves of UED vessels were entering Tyrador IX's airspace.
"Looks like they're going in for a landing," Gavran said.
"Good. Wait for them to takeoff again. I don't want to deal with the marines that were aboard—I just want the ship."
"You never told me what you were going to do…" Gavran began, giving Marín a sideways glance.
"And I'm not going to. Plausible deniability." Marín watched the shuttle on the scanner. It started to move, beginning its ascent. "They're taking off again. Follow them."
"Yes, Admiral," Gavran said, sighing.
The liberator banked towards the Directorate craft. The pilot of the shuttle finally saw them and began evasive maneuvers.
"Keep on them. Force them to land. Fire on them if you have to."
"What? Land? Why?"
"Just do it!"
Gavran aggressively tailed the vessel, firing above them, forcing them back into Tyrador IX's atmosphere. The shuttle banked and swerved, trying to lose them, but Gavran kept behind and above them, keeping the shuttle from using its upward thrusters to bank out of the atmosphere. Finally, it looked like the crew was going to ditch the shuttle out of desperation.
The shuttle landed, and Gavran set the liberator down a few meters behind them. Marín and Nova jumped out of the shuttle.
"What are you doing?" He yelled after them.
"We're commandeering the shuttle. Go! Get out of here!" Marín waved him off.
"You are crazy! You can't…" Gavran fumbled around in the cockpit for his sidepiece. "Where did I put that fucking…" Finally finding it under his chair, he stumbled out after them.
A tall blonde woman in a UED uniform charged out of the shuttle, firing a pistol. Marín flattened herself against the shuttle and fired back. Gavran ducked back into the small craft, swearing. Nova disappeared. Marín heard a single footfall, and the woman was knocked off her feet. Another woman, smaller with mousey brown hair, exited cautiously.
"KD!" She yelled, seeing her friend on the ground. Nova appeared, and making a motion with her hand, threw her violently back into the shuttle. Marín holstered her pistol and made her way over to Nova. Gavran followed.
"What are you going to do with that shuttle? Go back to the Directorate line? Why?"
"I'm not going to tell you, Gavran. If this goes awry, I don't want you to have been a direct part of it."
"Well, I already am! I'm going with you."
"No," Marín said forcefully, "Goddamn it, Gavran, no. Get back in your ship and get out of here. I won't let you risk your life while I do something stupid. I've already put you in danger. Go back."
"I don't care about the 'risk,' I'm a goddamn…"
"That's an order."
Gavran hesitated.
"We're wasting time," Nova said, annoyed.
"Let's go then."
Marín picked KD up by the ankles and helped Nova put her in the shuttle. On the floor of the ship, the other woman groaned and began trying to get up. Nova pointed her rifle at her.
"What? Who're…"
"Congratulations. You're the first POWs of the Terran Republic."
"Uh, Umojan Protectorate, technically," Marín said, closing the hatch.
"Whatever."
Marín jumped into the shuttle pilot's seat. The controls were almost the same as an Umojan vessel, but there were more tactile instead of a seamless, flat display. She quickly found the ignition and launch sequence. Gavran came to the front of the shuttle, staring her down through the cockpit window disapprovingly. Marín didn't make eye contact.
"Get strapped in," she said to Nova.
"Where are you taking us?" The woman said.
"Back to the Kuznetsov. You have something we want. And while we're on the subject, I'm going to need your uniform."
"Why do you—"
Nova pointed her gun at her again.
"O-okay. Whatever you say."
The woman began unbuttoning her uniform jacket. Nova kept a close eye on her as she did.
"So, do you have any interior schematics for the Kuznetsov? How are we going to get to the brig?"
"The brig?" The woman said.
"Shut up," Nova said, barely acknowledging her.
"Yes, they were included with Stukov's original plan."
"Stukov!" She said, interrupting again.
"Quiet down, kid. Adults are talking."
The woman ignored her.
"Is this about Greg Stukov?"
Marín almost veered off course with surprise.
"What did you just say?"
"The ghost. Stukov's kid."
"Who are you? How do you know about that?" Marín shouted, trying to regain her composure.
"I'm… Carolyn Dauphin. KD and I were on the shuttle that docked with the Aleksander… Are you going to rescue Greg?"
"We're going to take him back to my ship, yes."
"Then we'll help you. Or I will. You'll have to ask KD when she wakes up."
"Why?" Nova said suspiciously.
Dauphin shuddered.
"Because I saw… I saw what my commander is really like. I saw him put a gun to that kid's head, and… I'm pretty sure if you don't do something, he's dead."
"What?" Marín said. That was something that had not been included in Stukov's report. It was an unnecessary detail but was something that she would have liked to have known. If Reeves was unstable, or if he had threatened his life personally, that changed the situation. The situation is direr than I thought it was. Marín tried to imagine a situation in which she or Augustin would threaten someone directly like that, and she couldn't think of one. Reeves must have been unhinged.
"And, uh, you may get more than you bargained for with him… He… may not want to go with you so, uh, just be ready for that… And he's a teek, if you didn't know that…"
"A teek? What's his PI?" It was Nova's turn to be surprised.
"PI? No idea. But he scared the shit out of me busting out some lights in the brig…"
"You think you can handle that, Nova?"
"Are you fucking kidding? Of course I can."
"Well, okay then."
Dauphin threw her uniform on the floor. Marín struggled out of hers and threw it to Dauphin.
"Here kid, you're an Umojan admiral for a day."
"Oh. Great."
Marín pulled the uniform on. It fit, but barely. The pants were too long, and the jacket was almost too tight in the bust. I'm just glad the flight crew happened to be female. I could have worn a man's uniform, but it would have looked out of place. Dauphin put on the pants and undershirt but didn't bother with the jacket.
Marín fell in with a squadron of UED liberators and let them escort her through the minefield and towards the Kuznetsov. Their tower radioed them. Marín beckoned for Dauphin to answer. They were given an approach vector and a docking berth.
As they landed, Dauphin attempted to wake KD. She awoke in a frenzy. Unable to calm her, Nova knocked her out telepathically. Nova looked at Dauphin.
"You want to be knocked out or tied up?"
"Uh, neither?"
"Dealer's choice then."
Nova knocked her out and she slumped to the floor.
"How long will they be out?"
"Couple of hours. Should be plenty of time."
Marín didn't like how they were improvising this mission, but she didn't see another option. With the Tal'darim working against them, they needed something to give them an edge.
"Okay, its your game now.
"Damn right it is. Listen up..."
Nova directed Marín to stay out of sight as she cloaked and opened the hatch. The hangar was chaos, but there was no one that was seemingly looking for them or had another mission for Dauphin or KD.
Coast is as clear as it will be, Nova said, broadcasting her thoughts. Marín felt uneasy at the thought of Nova in her mind. With Stukov it had been frightening and eerie, but with Nova it was cold and calculating—and overbearing. Stukov had been a whisper, Nova was stern and insistent with the implication behind her voice that she could melt her mind at any time.
Marín stepped out of the shuttle as confidently as possible in her too-long, tight uniform.
Which elevator?
"The far one," Marín said.
Don't answer out loud!
Sorry.
The two of them walked towards the elevator.
Don't get on. There's someone behind us that wants on it.
Marín leaned against the wall beside the elevator, trying to look nonchalant. The door to the elevator opened and it emptied out into the hangar. The man behind them took the elevator and Marín hit the call button again.
Okay, there are people on it, but they're all going to get off here. You can get on this time.
Marín got on the elevator and held the door a few seconds. She felt Nova edge past her. Marín punched the number for the brig's level.
"So far so good," Marín said.
We've been here a total of thirty seconds. Don't relax.
Marín internally wondered if all ghosts were like this. None of them probably have any social skills.
I can hear that; you know that, right?
Oh. Right. Sorry.
The door opened on the level for the brig. Marín walked out, trying not to make eye contact with anyone on the level. A man passed in a tattered ghost uniform.
Don't even breathe.
Marín thought of a song, this time from Die Zauberflote. He passed without looking at either of them. Marín wanted to look back at him but didn't.
They arrived at the brig without incident, but Nova ordered Marín to stop.
There are guards inside. Wait here.
When the door opened and no one was there to trigger it, the guard at the reception desk stood. His compatriots guarding the door into the cell block also moved forward. As the door slid closed, Marín heard several heavy thuds. The door opened again, and Marín cautiously went through. The cell block door opened seemingly on its own, and Marín stepped through it, following Nova. The prisoners there—mostly Terran Republic marines—eyed her as she walked past.
Just ignore them. There are two more guards up ahead. Hang back, and I'll deal with them.
Marín thought briefly about releasing all of them. It would cause chaos, but they would likely be killed.
And we won't get out of here if you do. They'll know someone was in the brig, and they'll come looking for Stukov's son. They'll put the hangar on lockdown, and we'll be fucked.
Marín reluctantly agreed.
The two guards were standing right in front of Gregory's cell. He was sleeping or resting on the cot inside in a fetal position, his back to the main hallway. Neither guard had time to register what was going on. But both fell heavily to the ground, their weapons clattering on the hard floor. Gregory lifted his head and rolled over, looking at Marín in the hallway. He blinked at her.
"Who are you?"
Nova decloaked beside her.
"We've come to get you out, kid," Nova said.
"What?" He said, confused.
"Your father wants you out of here. We're here to…"
"No," Gregory said, the forcefulness of his voice causing a telekinetic echo that pushed Marín back a step. Oh, this is bad.
I can handle it.
Nova took down the forcefield with a keycard she had stolen from one of the guards. She walked into the cell. Gregory ripped the cot off the wall with his telekinetic powers and flung it at Nova. She ducked, and Marín hit the ground, cursing.
"You want to alert the whole ship?" Marín exclaimed.
"Not bad, kid. What's your PI? 8?"
"None of your business."
"Doesn't matter anyway. Mine's higher."
Nova picked Gregory up telekinetically and flew him up the wall to the ceiling. Gregory fought against her bringing himself down a half a meter. It seemed to tire him, but Nova was undeterred.
"You're coming with us whether you want to or not."
"We'll see about… that…" Gregory said, struggling.
Dauphin had told Marín that he would not come quietly, but she hadn't expected this. How would they get him out now if he was going to fight them all the way to the hangar bay? Marín smelled something electric or hot—like ozone. The gun on Nova's back was turning red with heat. Nova yelped, releasing Gregory and throwing her gun away. She lost her grip on Gregory. He hit the ground and rolled to a crouch, disappearing.
"Goddamn it."
"I thought you said you could handle it," Marín said.
"I can! Give me a minute. Go to the cell block entrance. Keep him from leaving!"
"Right!"
Marín jogged back to the door and stationed herself in front of it, readying her pistol. She heard a thud and an invisible figure flew through the air with a shimmer of distortion. She had no idea which one of them it was until it landed with a masculine grunt.
"I'm going to rip your balls off, you little shit!"
I don't think she's empathizing with him as much as I'd hoped.
Damn right I'm not! Fucker.
There was more scurrying, but it was far away. Marín flattened herself against the door. She heard nothing but silence.
"Where is he?"
"How the hell should I know?" Marín yelled.
Marín felt a hand on her wrist. She whipped her arm away and snaked her elbow out in a high arc, trying to catch him in the face. She managed to pop him in the mouth. He yelled something she didn't understand in surprise and pain, but ripped her gun out of her hand and turned it on her, becoming visible again.
"Marín!" Nova yelled as she rounded the corner. Gregory pulled Marín around, the gun still on her, putting her between him and Nova.
"Don't come any closer!"
"Kid, you need to calm down," Marín said.
"No! I will not calm down. You are not taking me back to that thing."
"Thing?"
Just then, the door behind them opened.
"Gregory Stukov!"
Gregory turned. The haggard-looking ghost entered.
"Shin… Thank god. I was just…"
"Put the gun down, Greg."
"What?"
"I said, put it down."
After a moment, Gregory complied.
"You will go with these women, Greg. You will get off this ship, and you will live. Because if you stay here, you will die."
"I will not betray the UED!"
"You won't? Because I already have. When I saw what Reeves was willing to do to you and learned what he had planned for your family, I immediately contacted your sister in Central Intelligence. She and the rest of your family are probably halfway to Gantris by now."
Shin pulled a small data cache from his pocket and held it out to Marín.
"Here. Take this. It has the comm buoy codes and any updated fleet information I could find."
"Shin!" Gregory said desperately.
"Enough! You will go and that's an order."
For a moment, it looked as though Gregory had resigned himself to going with them. But then he unleashed a barrage of telekinetic fury at Nova, throwing her into the hallway.
"Sleep!" Shin said firmly.
And with a motion of his hand, Shin brought Gregory down. He crumpled to the floor. Nova picked herself up.
"Who are you? Why are you helping us?" Marín said.
"Let's just say I'm an old friend of the family. If Admiral Stukov hadn't stuck his neck out for me many years ago, I would not be the man I am now, my memories and position intact. If not for his daughter, I would be disgraced and Gregory would have been brain-panned years ago."
"Returning the favor then," she said.
"Yes, that you could say."
"Now how are we going to get him out of here?" Marín said.
Nova shrugged, pulled him up by the arm and draped him over her shoulder. She engaged his cloak and then her own. They both disappeared. Marín groaned.
"I don't like this at all."
"I will walk before you and make sure no one impedes you."
The four of them retraced their steps through the ship and back to the hangar bay. They loaded Gregory on the shuttle next to Dauphin and KD.
"Good luck to you. You must go—quickly."
Marín began to close the hatch.
"But one more thing. Tell the Admiral… Tell him Sasha says hello."
"Incoming transmission from a UED registered vessel, Admiral Stukov," the Aleksander's adjutant said dimly. Stukov slowly turned away from the battle below him, puzzled. The adjutant had been acting up lately; not being able to ascertain a ship's designation was not normal. Surely it was a message from the Kuznetsov. The Aleksander, he thought, was finally coming apart. Maybe now I can get it fixed by the Destroyer Fleet. That may be one positive of my recent re-conscription. Stukov mounted the observation deck's short stairs to the computer terminal on the second level.
"Patch it through, Adjutant."
The screen snapped on. A Directorate officer appeared on the screen in a shuttle. It took him a moment to realize he recognized her.
"Admiral Stukov."
"Admiral... Marín?"
The bright flash of a laser cannon brightened the ship's cabin. Wherever they were, they were in the thick of battle.
"Not a lot of time to chat, Admiral, but I wanted you to see something."
Marín nodded back towards the hold of the shuttle. In it was his son, unconscious, being propped up by two other people he recognized—Dauphin and KD, the two women he had held hostage a few days earlier. KD saluted at him mockingly. Another woman in a ghost's uniform was guarding the three of them, her C-14 in her lap.
"What have you done to him?"
"He's fine. Would not come willingly and had to be… uh… sedated. We are five minutes out from the Uhuru, and I'll be ordering her away from battle. I hope that this fulfills our part of our original bargain."
"The comm buoy codes?"
"A message has already been sent, but I'm relaying the codes now. A man named Shin contacted your daughter once he learned you were alive. He told us to say… Sasha says hello."
Relief washed over him. He would send a message just to be sure, but whoever this "Shin" was right to contact her first; she would take care of it. Stukov opened his mouth to respond, but realized his emotions were getting the best of him. His face felt hot and his eyes were beginning to sting. After what he had witnessed on the Kuznetsov, what he had to endure with Reeves, and his denial by the Terran Republic, to be free of the UED's yoke and of the worry he had for his son was a tremendous weight lifted from him. He closed the channel, not wanting them to see him break down. He used the codes to connect to the comm buoys and send an encrypted message. He was indeed alive. Gregory was safe now. Get off of Earth, and Gantris may not be far enough to run even if it had declared its sovereignty from the Directorate. He wanted to tell them to come to him; he hadn't seen them in so long, and with their mother gone, they had little family left other than each other. But they weren't safe with him either. Kel-Morian space, perhaps? He reminded her to use the "default" encryption and frequency they always used when contacting one another, and that he would be listening. He sent the message quickly. It was time to rise up and do what he could to disrupt the UED and the protoss. He again gazed outside onto the battle below. There wasn't much time. By now, the Wrath of the Ardent would be closing in on Tyrador IX. If it reached there with its phase displacement beam, the Terran Republic's troops would have to concede defeat or risk the planet being purified.
But of course he already had a contingency plan in mind, just in case the worst or best scenario came to pass…
Alarak transported down to the planet's surface the moment that the Wrath of the Ardent was in range, his troops—bloodhunters, ascendants, wrathwalkers, and other proud and terrible Tal'darim warriors—supporting him. They made short work of the local militia, but the trained terran troops—some in grey, some in blue—were a bit more difficult. Even so, they were totally unprepared for an assault by the protoss. Their defenses had been obviously positioned with the infested in mind. His wrathwalkers assaulted their siege tanks from afar, and his bloodhunters and ascendants walked right into their line, outpacing the hordes of infested. He stopped briefly to cut a reaver from shoulder to hip, merely to inspire fear in the other humans around them. Alarak encouraged the others to do the same.
Soon, the humans were on the run. Alarak heard the bellowing of one of Stukov's giant ultralisks in the distance. Despite the defenses being set for Stukov, they did not seem to be hindering him. As he turned the corner, he saw the massive ultralisk toss a siege tank high into the sky. As he was distracted, a marine—high ranking if his heavily-modified suit was any indication—took a few shots at him from a two-wheeled conveyance and fled.
You impertinent wretch!
Alarak knew that the man was baiting him away, but he did not know to what end. An ambush was most likely, but there was nothing that this human could throw at him that he did not think he could surmount. He followed but told his troops to keep to their advance. On foot he was at a disadvantage, but the debris on the streets was keeping the terran from getting that far ahead. The ultralisk howled again, closer. He heard inarticulate shouts from his men, but nothing that sounded like they were in danger. Alarak charged towards the man, sinking his blade into his vehicle and throwing him forward off of it. The marine's armor absorbed the blow; he rolled to a crouch and fired at him then set off at a dead run. Alarak followed. He would let him lead him to whatever ill-fated trap he had made and relish his terror when he slaughtered all those who had help lay it. He followed the man to a dead end—a cul-de-sac on which a terran skyscraper loomed. In each window, terran snipers—ghosts and shadowguards—trained their weapons on him.
Not bad. But ultimately useless.
Summoning all his rage, he prepared to unleash all of his psionic energy in a torrent of fury. But behind him he heard shouting and the repeated roars of an ultralisk, its feet shaking the ground as it ran. Alarak turned and looked at it. It stopped. For a split second, it looked as if it was thinking. It shook its massive head as if trying to pull itself out of a daze. It looked around and locked its eyes on Alarak. It pawed the ground, pulling up the street's concrete as it did. The missile launchers strapped to its back emitted a painful whine as they warmed up and caught. It started to gallop towards him, its head lowered, its shoulders and tusks scraping the buildings as it powered through the too-small street right towards him. Missiles launched and arched, targeted on him.
Stukov, you bastard.
The terran had switched sides or at least had sided against him. Had his son died or had he been rescued? He thought. It didn't matter. Alarak was about to unleash an attack towards the ultralisk when a hail of bullets struck him in the back, pushing him down. He had to roll out of the way of the missiles and duck down a smaller side street. The ultralisk skidded to a halt to try to find him, wedging its snapping blades into the street.
"Ji'nara, Stukov has betrayed us."
"I'm aware of that, Highlord," she said, annoyed. "His air units are engaging our interceptors."
"Take me aboard! We will purify this place and have done with all of them!"
The city vanished before Alarak's eyes replaced by the bridge of the Wrath of the Ardent. Looking up, he saw Stukov's infested liberators belching their disgusting poison into the air. But then, out of the clouds, the Aleksander appeared.
"Blow him out of the sky!" Alarak said, pointing up at the bloated hulk of a ship. As he said it, a tendril snaked out and struck the mothership. It shuddered.
"Weapons are offline… Infestation…"
Another tendril slapped the side of the vessel and burrowed into it. The bridge went dark. Alarak stumbled as he felt the ship begin to list.
"Get someone down there to cauterize those tendrils. He can't keep hold of us for long. The infestation won't last. The purification beam?"
"Offline with our weapons… We're losing altitude. I'm trying to get the engines back online."
"It's just as well. We'll be in range of the purification beam when power is restored."
The ground rushed closer and closer. One of the tendrils was cut away by a destroyer Ji'nara had called in from the fleet. The bridge became light once more.
"Altitude and attitude stabilizing."
"Bring our weapons online, Ji'nara!"
"I'm trying! I keep attempting to reroute power, but the Aleksander is draining us!"
The destroyer cauterized the second tendril.
"Power to weapons restored. Activating purifier sequence."
Below, Alarak watched as two apocalisks erupted from the ground below the Wrath of the Ardent. Missiles burst from their backs, spiraling towards Alarak's giant mothership.
"Ji'nara! Pull up!"
"What?"
But it was too late. It was a focused attack. Volley after volley of missiles struck the underside of the Wrath of the Ardent, targeting the purifier's array. An explosion rocked the vessel, throwing Alarak and Ji'nara to the ground. Ji'nara clawed her way back up the console.
"The purifier array… It's offline. Damage reports… It's been… destroyed?"
Alarak shouted inarticulately with fury and jumped up from the ground.
"Are the transport systems online?"
"Yes, Highlord!" Alarak looked up to see the Aleksander slowly moving away and into orbit. But he was still in range.
"I think I owe Stukov a visit."
Stukov willed the Aleksander up and away from the planet's surface. Now that the planet could no longer be purified, he could focus his attention on helping his Koprulu sector allies as they dealt with the Directorate fleet. He closed the observation deck's infested oculus as he climbed into space.
A muffled alarm sounded.
"Intruder alert," the Aleksander's Adjutant said slowly, stumbling over "intruder." Stukov slowly turned away from the railing to address the adjutant. She had trouble hearing him now.
"Where? Who?"
"Bridge. One lifeform. Protoss."
Alarak.
This was not something he expected, but he should have. Anger makes even the protoss do stupid things. Anger and stupidity—two universal constants. But he had also been stupid. He had lingered to watch his apocalisks attack the Wrath of the Ardent when he should have moved on. And now I risk a summary execution-again. Even though they were on his ship, Alarak was a protoss and the infestation had very little effect on him. He was also the Highlord of the Tal'darim and an expert in hand-to-hand combat bedecked in state-of-the-art protoss armor. Stukov had his arm, his claw, and his pestilence, but all of those things were slow, and without good timing, Alarak's blade would find him. His arm began to grow in size, filling with the poison and disease he used to infest and sicken his enemies. He could feel the strength in it, but it also made his bones ache and his muscles cramp as they expanded and new ones grew, attaching with sinew and zerg flesh. Stukov was as ready as he could be, but he would need to stall for time for the right moment. He urged the Aleksander back down into low orbit.
Alarak? We can discuss this like men.
The protoss highlord recieved his telepathic entreaty. Stukov could hear him above stalking across the deck. He heard the sound of metal bending and the smell of burning zerg flesh. The bright red blade of Alarak's weapon thrust through the ceiling of the observation deck as Alarak cut a hole in it and dropped down. Stukov held his hand out in front of him in a feigned gesture of fear, backing himself against the low wall of the observation room's upper deck. In two giant steps, Alarak was upon him, pinning him bodily against the wall, Stukov's giant palm the only thing between them. Stukov could feel the heat of Alarak's blade near the side of his already ruined face.
"It wasn't personal, Alarak. I couldn't let you purify that planet."
"So there is some fear in you. Tell me, monster, what made you change your mind? Did you free your son, or did he die? What a pathetic creature you are letting sentimentality guide your actions. You should have let him die and killed Reeves for his trouble. You could have found a human woman to whelp you another, your race is so disgustingly quick to breed. Or are you too old for that? Humans do age terribly. Or is that something else the zerg took from you, hm?"
Yes, keep prattling on, Alarak. For once I'm glad all protoss leaders are full of meaningless bluster. The Aleksander dipped lower. Stukov slowly opened the observation deck's infested oculus again, hoping Alarak would not notice.
"It doesn't matter now, Alarak. I have exactly what I wanted. Killing me won't change that. But you… You'll never hold Tyrador. The Daelaam and their allies may retreat, but the Directorate never intended to let you keep those planets. If they get what they want, they will turn on you just like they did me. Reeves's hate for me may be great, but his bigotry against aliens is greater."
"I had thought as much. But they'll have to pry this system from my clenched fist. I'll have to assuage myself with punishing you for your betrayal—by spilling your tainted blood all over the deck of your cursed ship." Alarak raised his blade, ready to disembowel him. Stukov carefully positioned his clawed hand around Alarak's breastplate.
"I think you've overstayed your welcome, Alarak."
Stukov's arm swelled again, its tissues rapidly building and engorging. Before Alarak could react, Stukov had grabbed him—hard—and shoved him backwards over the observation's deck's railing and out of the oculus, his arm continuing to grow in a grotesque mass of musculature, creep, and zerg tendrils. The pain was almost overwhelming. When Alarak was far enough away from the ship, he let him go. Stukov heard Alarak scream for Ji'nara to transport him as he hacked into Stukov's arm, sending burning pain back through it. Despite himself, Stukov sank to the floor in agony as the distended arm sloughed off, revealing his smaller but still disfigured one underneath. He clutched it, still feeling phantom pain though Alarak's blade did no lasting damage. It was wet with his black blood and creep.
"Ad-adjutant. Take us up."
"Yes, Admiral."
He closed the oculus but was not collected enough to move the Aleksander—or rally his troops. He called to Izsha desperately. She heard him and began to move their air units towards the Terran Republic and Umojan fleets. He sat against the wall cradling his bloodied arm to his chest and collecting himself. The pain would subside. It always did. He always healed and kept going. But now was different. The UED and the Tal'darim would be gunning for him, and he had his son to protect. Despite the pain, he would have to fight.
They will pay.
