Marín did not immediately go back to her quarters after leaving Stukov in the hangar bay. She waited until the bridge had told her he was under way, and then she wandered. It was late and she was tired, but she was also still slightly inebriated and angry and did not want to go back to Vermaak while in that state. The halls of the Uhuru were mostly empty; there was only the skeleton night watch around working, and, she reasoned, most were exhausted from the day's battle. Marín was still running on adrenaline, but she wasn't sure how. She had slept little the night before, had engaged in a covert operation, evacuated an infested ship, taken command of the Umojan fleet, and still managed to have drinks with everyone afterwards. If it hadn't been for Vermaak's behavior during her dressing-down by Oyaleni, she would go back and sleep soundly. But the altercation bothered her. There was something wrong about it, even though she kept telling herself that he hadn't actually said anything. I've known Wynand for years, she thought, something is wrong. At first she thought that maybe it was the promotion, but there had to have been another issue.

Or Issues.

She tried to think of something else. There was so much that was more important to sift through. First, she was now in command of the entire Umojan fleet, and her first orders were to lead a portion of the fleet into zerg space to escort Stukov. That's not going to earn me any good will, but I can't worry about offending the fleet's sensibilities now—there is a war on. She knew that Stukov needed to be back at full power and that they would need an alliance with the zerg to win the war. She hoped that Stukov knew what he was doing. The rest of the fleet did not trust him, she knew, but Horner did, and Stukov had almost recklessly sacrificed himself already for their cause. We're both reckless. Maybe we deserve their distrust. If she was being honest with herself, she identified with him, especially after how her own people had reacted to her command. And she felt a great sympathy for him because of what he had been through with the zerg and now the UED.

She rounded a corner and entered a corridor that was against the hull of the ship. As she passed a small window, she stopped. The Beynac, one of the defense platforms positioned along the Umojan border, dwarfed everything else except the Spear of Adun and Stukov's remaining leviathan. She tried to pick out the Aleksander, but it was too far away. Idly, she wondered what he was doing. Not sleeping, she reasoned. Since he didn't need to eat, drink, or breathe, she assumed sleep wasn't necessary either. Realizing that he'd likely been awake since he was infested made her feel very tired. She couldn't imagine that. Does he read? Listen to music? What? She wondered. Marín thought that she would go insane if that was her life.

Maybe he has.

Marín sighed, still looking out into space, watching the fleet hang motionless between the Uhuru, the Beynac, and the larger alien ships. I guess we'll find out, won't we?

Finally feeling like she could sleep, she made her way back to her quarters. The door slid open, and it was dark inside. She quietly entered and manually pressed the pad by the door so it would shut more quickly; she didn't want the light from the hallway to wake Vermaak. It was silent in her quarters, but he wasn't snoring. He had either just gone to bed and wasn't deeply asleep yet, or he was lying in bed awake and feigning sleep. She hoped it was the former.

Stripping down to her shirt, she slid into bed, not wanting to fumble around for her nightclothes in the dark. He was asleep, his eyes tightly closed. Marín nestled into her pillow and started to drift off. Vermaak's eyes blinked open.

"Took you long enough," he said. Marín jumped, yelping in surprise.

"Holy… Why are you awake?"

"You walked off with Stukov. I was worried."

"If you were worried, why didn't you come look for me?" Vermaak ignored the question.

"It's 0200. What took you so long?"

"I took a walk."

"Alone?"

"What… do you mean?"

"Did Stukov just leave? Why is his stuff here?"

"No, he left two hours ago." Marín's eyes narrowed and she sat up quickly, angered by the implication. "Is that what this is about? You think there's something going on between me and Stukov?"

"Is there?"

"Why would you think that?"

"You didn't say 'no.'"

"I shouldn't have to. How long have we been together?" Marín said, starting to get angry.

"Are you sure you're not infested?"

"I told you. I got a clean scan when I went through the decontamination protocols." Dumbass, she thought.

"After that. He touched you."

"When did he do that? And he'd have to do more than touch me to infest me, Wynand."

"Has he?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Marín said, her voice rising. But she knew what it was. It was a smokescreen and a preemptive strike to distract her. "You're the one who neglected to defend me from Oyaleni and Valerian. You're just trying to keep me from saying anything. Nothing is going on between me and Stukov, and you know it."

"I can't defend you when you act..."

"You know what? I don't want to hear it. I didn't sleep last night, but I'm going to tonight. Just... stop. Let's just... stop. Okay?"

Marín settled back into the bed and rolled over away from him. It was silent in the room. Marín heard Vermaak get up quietly and dress.

"Are my quarters still open, or did you give them to someone on the Vrede?"

"Because of your overblown sense of propriety, yes, you still technically have your own quarters. Why?"

Vermaak said nothing and left.

Oh, for fuck's sake.


Horner sat alone in the Hyperion's cantina. It was silent; it wasn't open, but as the Hyperion's commander, he had the privilege of access to all public rooms at any hour. The jukebox had long been broken beyond repair (after being fixed hundreds of times) but still hung as a reminder of the old times and of Jim Raynor. Horner reached behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He dropped it. Damn it. Horner looked around, trying to figure out where the bartender kept his broom and dustpan, but then sighed and got another glass. He'd figure it out later. I need a drink before... The door slid open as Horner tipped the bottle to pour himself a shot. Nova walked briskly towards him, wearing a work shift. Her hair was wet like she'd just stepped out of the shower.

She tossed a datapad on the bar next to Horner. It slid into his glass and he had to fumble to keep it from crashing behind the bar as well. Nova pointed to the datapad aggressively.

"What the fuck is this?"

"Your orders."

"Did we not just discuss me not working with Valerian again?"

"I can't be two places at once, Nova. And you and your team are our best shot for infiltrating the Dylarian Shipyards. And I spoke to him after we talked."

"What was his goddamn problem?" Nova said.

Horner gestured to her with the bottle. She nodded and Horner picked up another glass from behind the bar. He started to pour but realized he had left the cap on. Embarrassed, he opened the bottle and poured a shot for them both.

"Stukov. Apparently, he has some pretty damning info on him. Nightmarish stuff. He really doesn't want him to be part of the fleet."

"Huh. Well, he better get over it."

"I think he is… He's just afraid Stukov isn't." Horner explained Stukov's connection to Moebius and Skygeirr. Nova bolted her shot.

"That doesn't explain his interference with the Umojans or his kid gloves in battle."

"No, it doesn't. That's why I need you to go over there and act like nothing is wrong. If he knows we're still watching him, he'll close ranks and go to ground. He'll do whatever he wants behind our backs, or worse dupe someone else into doing it for him."

"Right," Nova said resignedly.

"Look, I want Valerian to be the old Valerian just as much as you do, but…"

Nova tapped her glass on the bar. Horner poured her another shot and then finished his own.

"He's not coming back. He was never there. What we saw was an illusion. An illusion of the golden boy propped up by Moebius and all its evil shit."

She slammed her shot again. Maybe the whiskey was a bad idea, Horner thought. She shook her glass at him. He poured her another against his better judgement. Oh, what the hell. He poured another for himself—a tall one. Nova smirked at him.

"Have you talked to Mira yet?"

"No," Horner said, sighing.

"You ever get your 'marriage' annulled?"

"Finally got her to agree to it when I became president. I was tarnishing her reputation as much as she was mine."

"Hah! I guess the president of the free worlds of the Terran Republic was too straight-and-narrow for her line of work."

"That's… pretty much it, yeah."

"You're single then, now," she said, eyeing him from above the rim of her glass as she took a slow drink. Horner gave her a sidelong look. That's an odd question.

"I… guess?"

"Let's drink to that then." She clinked her glass to his.

"Cheers," he said, humoring her. He took a long drink, and when he finished, Nova topped off his glass. Horner had wanted to have a drink with her to talk about Valerian and to quell any fears she had. He had cautioned himself about drinking too much; his tolerance was not great, and it was something that had gotten him into trouble before—with Mira Han and with the Raiders. Horner knew that he was already letting it get out of hand. But it's Nova. What's the worst that could happen?


Fleet Admiral Marín entered Stukov's quarters aboard the Aleksander. Stukov, sitting in his chair at his desk, turned towards her, surprised at her being there but saying nothing. He stabbed out his cigar and set it in the ash tray on his left. Marín sat down on the couch and smiled at him. The scene no longer seemed odd. His mind concocted an elaborate long-standing courtship between them. Stukov pushed away from the desk and beckoned her over. The battle plans he had been pouring over were still on the small holo-emitter on his desk, and he pointed out several aspects of his plan to her as she stood beside him. She idly ran her fingers through his hair. He caught her hand in his and brought it to his lips. She leaned over to kiss him, then slowly climbed onto the chair, straddling him. He moved his hands under her shirt and jacket at the small of her back and pulled her closer, shifting his body to position himself beneath her. They moved against each one another, kissing passionately. He began removing her uniform jacket, unzipping and helping her out of it. He turned briefly to toss it behind him, and when he turned back... He was gazing into the face of an infested terran woman. It let out a horrific scream and opened its hydralisk-like jaws wide, lunging at his face.

Stukov woke up with a start, cursing blackly. He was ice-cold with fear. Consciously, he knew an infested terran couldn't hurt him. But subconsciously he was still human with very human fears—and wants—some he was totally unaware of until now. I was... asleep? He looked around. What was displayed on his desk was not a battle plan. It was a digitized DNA schematic depicting what edits Abathur proposed for the zerg to combat the psi disrupters: splices of primal zerg tissue that Abathur still had specimens of. The ash tray was gone. There was creep on the floor in the corners and the room was worn—unlike in his dream. He realized that he had dreamt of himself uninfested. He sighed and adjusted his posture in his chair, wondering what had caused him to sleep and had triggered the dream. Being around humans... it is doing something to me... I expected to "humanize" superficially. Re-socialize. Learn to react normally… Not… this. He wasn't sure that he liked it. Stukov was used to being unfettered by emotions other than anger and experiencing them now was disconcerting. But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself... Are these emotions? Or is it something... biological? If being around humans could cause me to subconsciously begin breathing and sleeping, this could mean my autonomic nervous system is being stimulated somehow. It could be pheromones or… something else. My telepathy? But there were other possibilities that he didn't want to consider. Or it could be my brain—my limbic system or amygdala—affected by... who know what?. The former, he decided, was preferable—just arousal he could deal with himself. True feelings would be... problematic. He turned the dream over in his mind and his memory of her with it. Stukov decided that whatever was happening was due to the peculiarities of how they met. The dress... her kindness... the decontamination protocols... I'm lonely and don't realize it, he reasoned. And she's convenient. I'm a fool misconstruing kindness for affection. But awareness of the origin of whatever he felt didn't change anything. He prodded his memories, and felt something there, but he didn't know what.

It's been a long time.

"Adjutant, what year is it?"

"The year is… 2520."

"What?"

It's been twenty years? I'm seventy-two years old? Subtracting coldsleep he was sixty-seven, but the clock had stopped on him at his death at forty-seven; he mourned the life that never was—a retirement and a quiet life with his children and maybe grandchildren away from war and the zerg. It suddenly dawned on him that Marín was only a few years older than his own daughter. But he realized, physically, so was he, and both would one day overtake him. He groaned and rubbed his face with his hand, stopping and covering his mouth and scarred cheek. A lot of what he was parsing out was mind-bending-even without thinking about how he might not even be the original Stukov-and even despite that, he felt a fair bit of shame. I don't even know how my ex-wife died, he thought, and I'm on to someone else. And fantasizing about a comrade-in-arms is… unprofessional. After all this time, Stukov assumed the Swarm had effectively eroded his humanity and he had welcomed it. He had rarely thought of home or his family and had come to appreciate the clarity and simplicity afforded by the Swarm. And now… I shouldn't have put on the mask of humanity for my allies. I'm playing the part too well… Have I been denying my true nature? Can I not truly leave my humanity behind?

He disliked the human parts of his psyche as a zerg. They are… messy and chaotic and have already gotten me into trouble… My son… and now this woman… All of it was a dull ache in his chest. He groped around for a decanter of vodka that wasn't there, remembering that he had removed it some time ago and that it wouldn't have done anything for him anyway. All the shit parts of humanity with none of the good ones? What god did I offend, eh? A sly smile moved across his face. I guess the xel'naga. He'd have to be contented with watching his Umojan compatriots drink.

Stukov returned to his work, but the dream nagged him. It took a few minutes for him to be at ease. Something about it worried him. Then he discovered his underlying fear: he had the power to infest someone, but could he infest someone unwittingly through close contact? I don't know; it has never come up. It stands to reason that I could—and I've been accused of it already. My purpose was never revealed. The cerebrate died before it could command me, and I wasn't privy to my design—and Abathur has been tweaking it over the years… But what does it matter? Humans are terrified by the infested. Thinking she'd consider a relationship with me is insanely optimistic. She probably couldn't even imagine… But he could. He went back to the dream, imagining his hands on her. Stop. God, I forgot how awful this can be. If it comes to it, I can talk to Abathur… not that this is the kind of conversation I'd ever want to have with that… slug.

He looked at the time on his holo display. In a few hours, he would be underway with the Umojan fleet and he needed to prepare. Stukov knew he would have to deal with all of it, but it would have to be later.


The report on Reeves's datapad made his pulse quicken and his hands tremble. The damage to the Kuznetsov was extensive. The leviathan's pull on the carrier had caused the ship's bow to microfracture under the strain. The minefield's detonation had cleanly sheered off the carrier's first ten bulkheads at the point of stress. Thankfully, the leviathan had shielded the ship from the brunt of the explosion, keeping the ship from being vaporized outright. Reeves had lost a good portion of his engineering crew, but his pilots and ground troops were off the ship. But that, combined with the lost battlecruisers, marines, and the Nimitz—the carrier he had lost to the minefield—the number of dead had topped 100,000. Reeves threw his datapad down on the conference table in front of him in frustration. He hated to admit it, but Stukov had been right. He had waded into something that he did not understand. And when he had made that realization, he had tried to brute force his way through, hoping the superior skill of his fleet and their numbers would secure victories for the Directorate. It had worked, but he could not keep losing this many people or resources. And he didn't see any alternatives. Strategically, he was out of his depth.

And, Reeves rationalized, it wasn't entirely his fault. The combined terran, Daelaam, and now infested fleet was an alliance of five very different strategic minds: Horner, the two Umojan admirals (though some reports counted Augustin as deceased), Valerian, Artanis, and now Stukov. Reeves was one man leading an immense armada; he had Alarak, but he did not trust him, and Reeves knew Alarak didn't trust him either—something that had worsened recently. After the battle, Reeves felt something had changed. Reeves was enthusiastic about Alarak's role in the conquest of Tyrador, but Alarak was reserved when speaking to him later on, retiring after humoring him in the propaganda video. It was Stukov's betrayal, I'm sure, Reeves thought, that has made him cautious of humanity. Reeves felt a kinship with Alarak. Both preferred ruling over their subordinates absolutely, requiring unquestioning fealty. He believed unity could only come from respect for authority and obedience. But this kinship didn't translate well to an alliance. Neither was good at sharing their plans and it was looking like it would be a constant vie for dominance. He envied the partnership that the leaders of the Koprulu sector forces had and cursed Stukov for his betrayal.

It was four of these minds that had devised the minefield that would have worked if Alarak had not unexpectedly been there, somehow liberated Stukov's son from the Kuznetsov, rescued Stukov when he had been incapacitated, and goaded him then into almost killing him and destroying his carrier. If I'm to subdue these miscreants, Reeves thought, I'm going to need more eyes and to be more vigilant. I need to see all sides of this conflict. And that was why he had looked through the rosters of all his carriers and invited the most senior and decorated officers to attend a meeting onboard the Kuznetsov.

The conference room was empty; the meeting wouldn't start for another half hour. It was the largest room on the Kuznetsov. It consisted of a round table on a dais and rows of seats on risers in a semi-circle around it. The room was for addressing the leaders of a fleet face-to-face all at once. Reeves had never used it. Those under his command took orders from him; the communication did not need to be two way. There was no use in having them in a room to commence some sort of dialogue—until now.

The first of the higher-ranking officers walked in. It was Vice Admiral Curchack, commander of the Aleksander II, the flagship of the battlecruiser fleet. She was a small woman, frail-looking with age, her long silver hair plaited in an intricate braid at the nape of her neck. She faltered when she saw Reeves sitting at the table. Reeves perceived what he thought was an unguarded look of contempt from her as she turned her piercing blue eyes to him. Her eyes were rimmed with pink, probably, Reeves thought, from exhaustion. She straightened and turned away, clearly uncomfortable at being the first to arrive. He had not spoken to her at length. All she had ever gotten from her was a "Yes, sir." She followed orders, nothing more and nothing less. She chose not to sit at the table with him, but instead on the first row of risers.

The next to arrive was Shin. He nodded to Reeves and sat down across from him, again in his almost threadbare ghost uniform and weathered non-standard-issue leather duster. He busied himself with his datapad, but the man could not sit still, and began shaking one of his legs. Reeves found this kind of fidgeting obnoxious, but he found Shin to be that on the whole. He suspected that Shin may have aided Gregory Stukov's escape, but there was nothing concrete he could point to that would suggest his complicity other than he seemed not to be troubled by his kidnapping—or surprised. And his nonchalance about it borders on insolence, Reeves thought. But of all the people he would meet today, he knew that he was the one that he would have to ally with. He was the mind behind all of the fleet's covert ops, and his record was impressive. He would need him.

The room slowly filled; it had been quiet at first, but as more people entered and they outnumbered Reeves, the room became loud with animated conversation. It was a room full of people with a common purpose and background that did not get to cross-socialize often. They all have a lot to talk about. Reeves wondered if maybe he needed to facilitate this kind of gathering regularly, reasoning it might placate them. He let them talk until five minutes after his appointed meeting time.

Reeves stood from his chair and wordlessly stalked to the door, locking it with a loud click. The room went silent. He turned back around to see all eyes on him. They seemed slightly fearful, as if wondering if a trap had been sprung. Reeves walked back to his chair, his boots echoing in the large room. He tapped on the black glass set in the table. The lights in the room dimmed, and a holographic projection warmed to brightness above the conference table. It was a picture of Horner as a young man—a mugshot from his days as a "rebel" with the Raiders. In it, he did not look particularly competent—or experienced. Reeves had chosen this picture purposefully.

"As you all know, this is our main aggressor," Reeves said, walking away from his chair again and pacing the lower level of the room, "Admiral Matthew Horner. He commands the Hyperion and the Terran Dominion," he paused, his tone edging into sarcasm"—excuse me 'Republic'—fleet. He was also their temporary leader after the deposition of Valerian Mengsk." The room was silent as Reeves went into Horner's dossier. It was nothing they didn't know, but Reeves had chosen him as a place to start. He meticulously went over intelligence focused on Horner's battle performance both past and present. But then his focus shifted. He began discussing Valerian, his rule, his battle record, and Moebius—information that was not classified but also not widely known. Chairs creaked and hushed whispers floated down to him as those who were bored by his discussion of Horner began paying attention. Reeves progressed through all of the Directorate's Koprulu sector adversaries: Augustin, Marín, Artanis, Vorazun, and, finally, Stukov.

Reeves began with a perfunctory summary of his career, painting him as lazy, sloppy, insubordinate, and a drunk—nothing more than DuGalle's lackey. But while he could paint him personally as an unsavory element and professionally incompetent, it was hard to cover up his tactical ability when going through his record. He caught Shin turning to Curchack who was seated behind him. They exchanged glances briefly before returning their attention to the presentation. He wondered if they knew each other from outside the fleet—or if they had known Stukov. Both, he realized, were in an age range in which they may have come into contact with him; they were probably the only two in the room who were.

What Reeves left for last was the most titillating—and embarrassing. He went over Stukov's infestation, making it seem like a choice, and then told them what they didn't know: Stukov's involvement initially with the fleet, his son's kidnapping, and his alliance against them. A lot of the information conflicted what had been officially released. There were some surprised gasps in the room; whispers turned to hushed chatter to the point where he had to ask curtly for quiet.

"And this is what we're up against: old foes, new ones, and a comrade," he said mockingly, "that is now an enemy. All of them bring something new to the table, like the minefield, that we did not expect. We can defeat them. We have defeated them. But the cost is too high. We need cunning, and we need a new perspective." Reeves moved into the last part of his presentation. "Here are our current plans. Once we regroup, we will leave a defense force here at Tyrador, consisting of Tal'darim and Directorate forces. We will move the bulk onward to Korhal." Reeves went on to detail the attack. It would be effective, but would rely on, again, the overwhelming numbers of the UED fleet. "I open the floor for recommendations." For minutes, the room was silent. Reeves worried that they would be too cowed by him to speak, fearing that what they said would be taken as a criticism. When Curchack finally spoke, he was surprised.

"This plan makes the same mistakes we've already made. Casualties will be substantial," she said, her voice, though thready with age, was clear throughout the room, "Worse, it fails to anticipate the fleet's next moves. Are we really predicting that they will only fall back and guard Korhal? What if they don't?" Reeves was angered by her tone, but instead of reacting—which he knew would squelch any further participation in his experiment—he questioned her instead.

"Then what do you suggest, Admiral Curchack?"

"Attack a target they don't expect: their shipyards, the Protectorate's automated fortresses… Or at least engage some subterfuge. We could feign an attack on Korhal and instead attack Umoja."

"My men…" Shin said, "We could infiltrate the Protectorate's fortresses—or the Republic's bases. Make one or two go dark. It would appear as though we were on the move and cause them to split their forces. We could catch them unaware either attacking Umoja or Korhal."

"Don't forget all the tech we're not using," a voice piped up from the back. Reeves could hear the woman, but not see her. "Over here," the voice said. The woman finally stood in her chair. He recognized the woman—dark, severe-featured and implausibly short—as Chief Engineer Aditi Ramachandran. He had recently read her file. She was somewhat of a wildcard. Her service record was uninspiring, but her extracurriculars in robotics and her years in weapon research had caused him to add her to the meeting. She was not much of a soldier but an impressive engineer. "Yes," she said, waving her arms at Reeves, "here I am! Anyway, we utilized a science vessel to disrupt the infested, but we could be doing so much more. The technology that we're using—duplicating psionic signals to disrupt psionic-sensitive creatures—could be used against humans and sensors. We could perhaps make it look like there are several more thousand of us—or less—depending on what use we have for it. And that's just science vessels. We've salvaged some of the protoss mines—not a lot, mind you, they were pretty well toast—but it's enough to make our own weapons pack a bit more punch if you give us some time…"

Reeves was already impressed by the outcome of the meeting. He saw his team assembling and realized that he already had what he needed: Shin, a covert ops specialist; Curchack, a tactician with an eye for a plan's faults; and Ramachandran, a tech specialist. Reeves let them continue to speak amongst themselves to see how well they "played" together. Shin and Curchack seemed to know one another already and interacted readily with Ramachandran, who had left her seat and was now sitting on the bottom steps of the riser in sight distance of Shin and Curchack. After awhile, Reeves interrupted them to dismiss the room.

"Curchack, Shin, Ramachandran—stay here."

Ramachandran looked stricken, no doubt wondering if she was about to be reprimanded. Shin crossed his arms and glared at Reeves, and Curchack went silent, again looking tired. Reeves approached them.

"This meeting had three purposes: to be more forthright with the fleet, get recommendations, and to identify candidates for my new team of advisors. The three of you are that team. Get your recommendations and iterations together. I want three different proposals in my inbox by 0900 tomorrow. Congratulations on your new appointments."


Marín found herself on a shuttle yet again en route to the Aleksander. The small force she had amassed dropped out of FTL and crossed into zerg space four hours ago, and Stukov had reportedly made contact the Zagara when they arrived. An hour later, a leviathan arrived carrying thousands of space-faring zerg. It was a tense moment, but the zerg, sent by Zagara, had escorted them further into zerg space. Zagara had proposed a meeting place on Gysst, and Stukov had accepted on their behalf and agreed to her demand that the two of them come alone (without consulting her). He had offered to pick her up in his shuttle, but she had declined. Vermaak had not been happy with the arrangement, but Marín was beyond caring what he thought. She was slightly angry also with Stukov not okaying the meeting details with her, but she understood that he may not have had time. If it happens again, I'm going to have to put my foot down. We need Stukov, but making concessions for him is putting me at odds with the fleet—and apparently my partner.

The trip from the Uhuru to the Aleksander was harrowing. Mutalisks patrolled the space around and between the battlecruisers, diving seemingly at random, unaware of her arc towards the Aleksander. She instinctively reacted evasively whenever they drew near, though Stukov had assured her that they would not attack unless provoked. The ship's port hangar yawned open as she approached. She maneuvered into the hangar and set the ship down gently, feeling the floor give slightly as the ship found purchase. The weird squish she felt as it did so made her wince. She opened the shuttle's door, and the weird smell of the hangar and its damp humidity flooded in. Once the door fully opened, she heard Stukov's heavy boots on the ramp. She turned in time to see his clawed hand grasp the jamb of the door as he entered. His glowing eyes narrowed into slits as he walked into the bright interior of the shuttle.

Admiral Marín.

Marín was startled by his voice in her mind, but she should have expected it. He had told her that his telepathy was dependent on the number of zerg in proximity, and Zagara's escort was likely more than enough to network whatever psionic power he needed to read her. Her mind immediately jumped to something that she wanted to hide from him: her conversation with Vermaak and what he had insinuated was going on between them. She scrambled to suppress the thought and think of something to cover it. She began playing through some Gustav Holst in her mind. Stukov laughed.

"I can hear that, but I'm not reading you. Don't be alarmed." Stukov activated the hatch behind him, closing it, and settled into the navigator's chair. "I thought it might be a good idea to practice speaking sub-vocally. It may come in handy during our meeting with Zagara."

"Can she not read us too?"

"Yes and no. Zerg and human brains are structurally very different and so are their brainwaves. Zagara could read me—if I would let her. I'm just zerg enough, but as a human I appear… closed off to her even though I can connect to the Swarm. But you? No. Zagara can read thoughts but only those connected to the Swarm—and then only if they are zerg. Her telepathy is like mine but weaker. She is empowered by the zerg around her, but they only increase the distance and number of zerg she can control."

"What about Kerrigan?"

Stukov smiled slightly, and he seemed to Marín to descend briefly into something akin to reverie. "Kerrigan could rip any thought out of your mind no matter how deeply you tried to bury it. And she could do it gently without you noticing… or rip it forcefully out and leave you a slobbering idiot in the process. This she could do before she was even zerg. As the Queen of Blades her power was unfathomable. There were no secrets hidden from her."

"That's… terrifying."

"Oh, believe me, it was. It was a good thing I was on her side."

"You sound almost nostalgic."

"Why not? I had a place, I had a purpose… Kerrigan wasn't the worst company…"

"Would you rather be back there?"

Stukov looked at her quizzically, as if trying to determine why she had asked. "Definitely not. Especially now that Zagara is in command. I will not serve an animal. And she would not serve me. With Kerrigan gone, I have no desire to lead them. I probably would have left on my own eventually, even if Kerrigan had stayed." But we should get going, he said to her telepathically.

The hangar opened and Marín lifted off. She did not like speaking to him this way. When he did, she could feel him there, and while he said he wasn't prying into her thoughts, she felt instinctively that he was for some reason tempted to do so. And his voice was different now. Instead of the ghostly whisper, it was charged in an odd way, and she could sense something behind it that she could only describe as a warmth. It wasn't as creepy to her, but it was intrusive.

Your mind is chaotic. Gather a thought. Direct it at me.

I don't see the point of this.

I may have to abruptly change negotiation tactics. I won't be able to signal what I'm doing to you unless I use telepathy. We need to be a unified front.

Marín rolled her eyes slightly.

And don't do that. No knowing glances or obvious body language. Zagara can't read human minds, but she has been around humans long enough to read their gestures.

Fine. Anything else I need to know?

No, but I have a question…

Okay…

Why did you insist on picking me up? Was it my driving?

Marín laughed. You did fumble the landing a bit that first time. But no, I just wanted to not get on Dani's bad side by bringing an infested shuttle into her hangar. She was not happy about that.

No, she had, eh, gift wrapped it for me when I returned.

Marín turned away from the console to look at him and reply, and when she did, she flinched. She was not used to seeing him from this angle. Despite how easily they seemed to get along, she was jarred by his hulking shoulder, his rended face, and the zerg claws on his hands and back. Catching her eye, he pivoted his body to face her, draping his infested arm over the back of his chair where she could not see it. Marín felt terrible; she felt she must had made him self-conscious.

Do you know where you're going?

I have the coordinates. We'll be in range of Gystt in about five minutes.

Good. There's a structure there… It's away from her hatcheries and specially built for her to receive human and protoss dignitaries. There was a time when she reached out to the Dominion and the Daelaam for peace. I doubt it has seen much use recently.

Marín knew the planet's history. It had been purified by the protoss but revitalized by Zagara through a process that had been labelled classified by the Dominion. The Umojan Protectorate had long been sore over the Dominion not appraising them of Zagara's overtures or allowing them to participate in negotiations. As the shuttle neared, Marín was in awe of the extent of the changes Zagara had made. What was once a smoothed globe of obsidian and ash was now blue, purple, and green with a dense, cloud-laden atmosphere.

It is strange, yes?

What?

To find hope in the zerg. All the planets that the wars in this sector have destroyed… Maybe they can be restored? You're not from the Sol sector so you don't understand what you have here. There are many planets within only a few lightyears of each other that can sustain life. That is not the case for Earth. We lived for centuries unable to find suitable planets for habitation, finally finding Gantris VI—five lightyears away and a five-year trip. When I left Earth, resources and population were problems, even with Gantris as a sustainable colony. Gantris is now independent of Earth. Reeves said that the reason they had returned here was to try to colonize again. "Planets are a dime a dozen," he said. And now there will be even more.

Let's hope that doesn't make them worth less. If you can fix a planet…

You can continue to break them. There would be less incentive for someone like Alarak to not glass a planet.

Or for a mining operation to consider how it affects a planet's environment.

Indeed.

With a jolt, the shuttle began descending through the planet's thick atmosphere. Visibility came and went as they descended. Lush forests and wide, dark rivers rushed below them.

Speaking of Earth…

Yes?

Those two women you captured… I know them. I would consider it a personal favor if you would allow them more freedom. They are not a threat. I do not believe they would sabotage the Uhuru or try to escape—or help my son do so.

What makes you think that?

They know what Reeves is like. They know that returning to the Destroyer Fleet is suicide.

I'll… see what I can do.

The ship's onboard computer chimed as they came into range of the meeting site. Marín flew past it, looking for a place to land nearby. The ground around it was overgrown with scrub, though it appeared as though it had once been surrounded by a clearing. Marín found a small break in the underbrush—an outcropping of smooth, gently sloping rock that had survived Zagara's terraforming. The shuttle came gently to rest, shuddering only slightly as it touched down.

And that's how you land a shuttle. Marín opened the hatch from her console. Stukov slid out of his chair and towered over her.

Oh ho. You're giving me piloting lessons now? This planet has nothing on that hunk of rock I landed on. I was contending with zero visibility and hurricane-force winds. Not a fair comparison.

Sure it wasn't, Marín thought, grinning at him. He looked her up and down, raising an eyebrow at her and putting his hands on his hips.

Listen, I was training in Valkyries when you were… Stukov straightened suddenly, a sheepish look crossing his face.

When I was what?

Nevermind. I… thought I heard Zagara.

Oh. Maybe we should go… Marín stood, and they walked to the hatch together. Because of the nature of the landing site, there was a drop right outside the hatch that was over a meter tall. Stukov stepped off, landing without even regarding it. He turned to see Marín hesitate. He reached his infested arm up to her. She took a step back at the sight of his clawed fingers. Despite that she had no problem with him in her earlier interactions with him, she was not as focused and the mission not as pressing—there was nothing to distract her from his disfigurements. And, her conversation with Vermaak had made her more conscious of his infestation and the danger he posed to her. Her mind began to run back to her conversation with Vermaak; she had to squelch her inner monologue. Stukov squinted at her, and she could feel him pushing into her brain, his curiosity getting the better of him, chasing the thought she had dismissed. Realizing she was being ridiculous, she grabbed onto his hand. Stukov gently helped her down.

It's not far, is it? Do you hear Zagara again? Marín said, subconsciously wiping her hands on her uniform. She had to tell herself to stop.

No, he said, walking away without turning to her. She jogged to catch up.

Is this the way?

Yes.

Is something wrong? Stukov didn't reply immediately. Marín began to panic. Had he seen what was in my mind?

Stukov sighed. I wasn't reading you. I don't need to.

What do you mean?

I know how disgusting I must seem. I took me months to not be terrified of the zerg specimens we studied on Earth…

What? That wasn't what I was thinking…

He rounded on her quickly, and she almost ran into him.

Then what?

I'd… rather not say. But it's not that.

Stukov looked at her suspiciously as if for a moment he didn't believe her. But then he turned and continued walking.

Why are you worried about that now? Would I be here if I was disgusted or terrified by you?

No, no I suppose not. I'm sorry… I'm… preoccupied.

They neared Zagara's meeting place. It looked like a stone hatchery on low columns with an oculus in the top. The interior was open to the elements on all sides, and time had run its course. There were cracks in its supports and vines and lichen had made their way up half its height. The vines created curtains over the openings around the bottom of the structure. Stukov brushed them aside, ushering Marín through.

When Zagara comes, let me do most of the talking.

Are you afraid of what I will say?

No, but she will take any excuse not to help us, so try not to give her one.

Well, that's reassuring.

Marín walked around the room, her footfalls echoing in the empty chamber. Large motes—Marín thought they might be spores—glinted in the light from the oculus. Three short, cube-shaped pillars were set in the middle of the room, their purpose unclear.

I shouldn't have a breather on, should I?

It's not zerg—or infestation. Local flora. You might need an antihistamine later, but I doubt Zagara would invite us somewhere that would make a human sick. You aren't the first to be here, after all.

Stukov looked off into the distance for a moment.

She is coming. Stand by me. I don't want her to think we're trying to flank her.

Marín circled back around the pillars to stand at Stukov's side. Stukov raised to his full height, clasping his arms behind his back. He had returned to his officer's demeanor, presumably, Marín thought, to show Zagara the gravity of what was going on.

I'm not going to be actively reading you while speaking with Zagara. If you want my attention, think of me and I will pick up on it.

There was a rustling from the other side of the room. Two hydralisks—more massive than any she had ever seen—broke through the curtain of vines on the far side of the structure. Each had a wide, spiked crest and looked like pictures Marín had seen of old Earth dinosaurs. Their eyes glowed slightly as they slithered into the room, looked around, and seemed to smell the air.

Those are Zagara's personal guards. They are checking to see if we have weapons and if we came alone as agreed.

She trusts us that little?

You remember the last human she allied with was Valerian, right?

Point taken.

I can't say she's fond of me either.

Wait… I thought you said…

Zagara entered slowly, brushing aside the vines with one of her forelimbs. She was much larger than Marín imagined; Zagara was larger than a "normal" queen and queens were already almost twice as tall as Marín was. The loud, chitinous clicks Zagara's six legs made on the stone floor gave her goose flesh. The two hydralisks' eyes flashed and they retreated.

"Stukov," she said flatly. "I did not think I would see you again."

"And it seems you were comfortable with that arrangement."

Zagara crossed her forelimbs, rubbing them together like a giant cricket.

"Yes. Your return means Abathur's. He is a traitor. I will not suffer him in my presence."

"I did not bring him with me. I left him with Izsha. We've been keeping him on a short leash."

There was a short silence. More rubbing.

"How is he?"

"Fine. Bored with me, I think."

"As well he should be. Humans are biologically inferior. Their potential for evolution is narrow."

"No need to be insulting Zagara," Stukov said, chuckling, "especially in front of a guest." He motioned to Marín. "This is Fleet Admiral Renata Marín, commander of the combined fleet of the Umojan Protectorate. She is my ally against the Directorate in this conflict. Admiral, this is Overqueen Zagara, leader of the zerg."

Do I shake her… claw or something?

I wouldn't, no.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Overqueen Zagara."

"You humans find pleasure in odd things. And I did not mean to insult. What I said is the truth."

"I'm… not sure I'm insulted, Overqueen. I can't say my species's evolution is my concern," Marín said. Stukov's thoughts drifted into her own: Tread lightly there, he thought. "But our current conflict is."

"Your petty human squabbles do not concern me. The zerg now want only to live on their own worlds and be free from human and protoss interference."

"I understand, Zagara. But ignoring the conflict is folly. If the Directorate defeats the Umojans, the Terran Republic, and the Daelaam, they will turn their weapons on you—and they'll have the combined forces of what's left of the Terran Republic and the Umojan Protectorate for their use. They will not suffer the zerg to exist. They will set out to exterminate the Swarm," Stukov said.

"Are you suggesting that if I join forces with you that you could protect me?"

Tell her something to reassure her. She knows I alone cannot defend her from the Directorate.

"You're not just joining forces with Admiral Stukov. The Umojan Protectorate—as I'm sure you're aware—is the most technologically advanced of the terran interplanetary nations in this sector. We have thousands of ships and millions of marines that would work to keep your core worlds safe if your systems were attacked. We would also share tactical information with you so that you could keep your borders safe. The Terran Republic is also allied with us, and an alliance with me—and Admiral Stukov—would mean an alliance with them as well."

"The Daelaam have also entered the conflict. This sector will be united against the Directorate if you join us. There will be nowhere they can find a foothold."

Zagara looked unmoved.

"Our numbers are in the billions. There is no way you could protect us. Entering the conflict now will lead to more losses. We will wait for the outcome of humanity's meaningless dominance display."

Marín began to speak but felt Stukov in her mind again.

Trust me.

He crossed his arms in front of him, giving Zagara a sidelong glance.

"So, does that mean that you resolved the, uh, schism here?"

Zagara's mandibles twitched.

Schism?

I'll explain later.

"I'll take that as a no." Stukov took a few steps towards her, looking up and directly into her face, "Do you think the Swarm's rogue broodmothers will fall in line just because there's a larger threat? Are you sure they won't defect or leave you undefended and on your own?"

"We are zerg. We fight as one."

"Zagara, I am zerg. Izsha is zerg. Abathur is zerg. Dehaka is zerg. None of us fight at your side today. And do you not remember? Kerrigan had to best you to gain your respect. Do you not think it will be the same for your brood mothers?"

Zagara shook her head, looking disgusted.

"You equate us with humans. The zerg have no time for your kind of infighting."

"Our infighting? I know you, Zagara. You forget that. And I know that the way you rule doesn't sit well with all of your generals."

"What of it?"

"Maybe you need someone on the outside to… let them know their place in hierarchy of the Swarm."

Tell them about the forces that we have brought here.

Stukov, this was not the arrangement. Are we throwing our own troops at zerg ones? How is that a good idea?

Please just do as I ask. We can always back out if it later.

"We have a small strike force at our disposal. We could isolate a brood and capture its leader. There are ways to minimize zerg casualties…"

Zagara brought her claw to her mandibles and seemed to be considering.

"They are not your people, Zagara. They are usurpers. And right now, they could disrupt the chain of command and undermine your attempts to rally the zerg to defend itself if the UED do enter zerg territory. The Swarm without unity is at risk of…" Stukov said.

"Grellna… and Drezsera," Zagara said suddenly.

Stukov leaned back and rocked on his heels, seeming satisfied with himself.

"Grellna… has too large a brood and is too stupid to realize she is destroying the planet that is her brood's home. She will not heed me, but right now she has the resources to defend herself against my brood. And I will not destroy her brood to get to her. But she may not expect an attack from terrans. Her brood may be saved—and her world."

"And this Drezsera?"

"She is… cunning. Too cunning. And ruthless. She wishes to overthrow me. I should rejoice in the coming of a new overqueen with better sequences, but she wants only to kill me. She has no ambition to lead or grow the Swarm. If she came to power, there would be war. We would splinter yet again. Many would die. Whole strains would be lost. Subjugate both and send them a message—kill them if you have to. Use their broods to fight for you and end your ridiculous terran skirmish. I will relay their locations to your ship."

Zagara's personal guard entered again, flanking her. She turned and left, the hydralisks sliding backwards, keeping an eye on Stukov and Marín as Zagara turned her back to them.

"Thank you, Zagara," Stukov purred. It was not quite a deception; Stukov had described to Marín what he was going to do accurately if vaguely. His plan made sense, but with such a small fleet and already heavy casualties, assaulting a zerg brood—much less two—was incredibly risky. It would not make her more popular with her fleet; she worried it would make those who trusted her wary—and those who didn't enraged. But there wasn't much of a choice. They needed the zerg, and they needed Stukov. There had to be a price.

Hopefully it won't be my command.

I won't let that happen.

"… Damn it, Stukov."