Crosier 9, Kel-Morian mining outpost

Foreman Mike Sadum was relaxed in his comm center seat, unwinding from a recent EVA. Their mining outpost sat on a resource-rich moon with no atmosphere.

The voice channels were humming with chatter, Mike turned up their volume.

"...I'm just sayin'," said a rustic female voice. "We also got four years of quiet from the Zerg after that Queen o' Blades gal took it over, but at the end of those four years there was zerg up our asses from here to the Expanse. It's overdue to be happenin' again."

A male but similarly rustic voice. "Nothin' like a good war to drive up the price of vespene, am I right? We might even get a pay raise."

Mike was watching the drilling derrick, which was located a safe distance from their main habitat. Its main drill column was starting to rattle. He picked up a mic on a cable and held its transmit button. "Victor, are you payin' attention to the drill?"

"I checked on it five minutes ag– fuck!"

A burst of green gas shot out of the pit, impacting the top of the derrick's tower and knocking it off, sending it flying into the sky as the gas dissipated evenly at a high altitude.

"We're over a damn pocket alright, fuck!" Victor's voice in the comm.

Mike held the transmit button. "What are you waitin' for? Blow it shut!"

"I can't! The system ain't respondin'!"

"Mike, we need you out here!"

"Dammit…" Mike muttered as he put his EVA suit back on.

As he bounded across the stale, unchanging surface of the atmosphere-less moon, heading toward the fountain of green gas bursting from their well, the sky caught his attention.

A ship had exited warpspace near their moon. It was bigger than any human vessel he'd ever seen, even compared to the Dominion's mammoth gorgon battlecruisers and Core World commercial freighters.

Its composition was unmistakeably human-made with shimmering steel plates shaped in curves and edges, with visible hangars, gun batteries and sensor arrays.

The sheer, unmitigated volume of the vessel sent chills up his spine and made him blink with disbelief. And as though unlocking new capabilities through its size, the ship sported multiple rows of weapon muzzles that were the size of the dreaded spinal guns of Koprulu battlecruisers.

More, smaller ships had exited warpspace near it. He'd never seen so many war ships in one place before. The spraying vespene, which he'd been running to help contain, felt shrunk onto irrelevance by the sheer gravitas of this fleet.

And it could only have come from one place, whose distance and lack of contact with the Koprulu Sector elevated it to the status of myth:

Earth.

UNN Broadcast:

"It's a scene that can be observed on all Dominion worlds. The queues in recruiting offices spilling out into the streets. These men and women could be carrying draft cards, they could also be influenced by the Emperor's prediction that another major conflict is coming, and would rather hedge their bets in the military than count on their civilian livelihoods surviving the coming storm."

The camera cut to a drone shot of an urban industrial district. "The core world megafactories, which for years had produced vehicles, appliances and spare parts for civilian needs, are once again being retooled to produce weapons of war. Renowned commander and media celebrity Admiral Horner had this to say:"

Matthew Horner on a podium: "The United Earth Directorate is an imperialist power. During the Brood War, they waged battle against all factions without any diplomatic gestures save the demand for unconditional surrender."

Horner continued. "Not only this, but their history shows that they take a primitive colonialist approach to territories they conquer. A distant world under the Directorate's umbrella will be nothing more than a resource siphon, with its population being oriented for that purpose. They will be disallowed from developing beyond that point and treated as second-class citizens. While the Emperor has promised to explore every diplomatic option, we must nonetheless be ready for the worst-case scenario. The cost of war is great, but the cost of a lack of preparedness for it is greater."

Saraslha had reverted to her human disguise, and was wearing a fresh change of clothes given to her by Casa. She sat grudgingly in the passenger seat of Casa's truck as they drove along a gravel road that cut through the woods.

Saraslha spoke. "I assure you that blowing my cover was necessary to stop the ultralisk in time. It wasn't listening to me while I had human hair and flesh– You told me to stop the thing! And I did what I had to in order to accomplish that."

Casa was silent.

"I'm serious!" Saraslha continued, pointing to her own cheek. "I'm less of a zerg with this disguise. It isn't cosmetic, it's actual human flesh that gets swapped in."

Casa blinked slowly.

"So, where are we going and how long is it going to take?"

"Where you'll be staying for the foreseeable future. A town known as Green Peaks."

"The word is already out about what I am. How's moving me to a different town going to help?"

"This town is special. You'll understand soon enough."

"A different and better thing you could do is set me loose and let me build up my forces. When are your commanders going to be satisfied that I'm on their side?"

"It's not only that, Saraslha. There's also the question of keeping you under control, something even your mother evidently had trouble doing."

"Is… This about that thing with the tablet and running off?"

"It's about that thing with the tablet and running off."

"I dealt with a problem." Saraslha said flatly. "You know what happens when a feral hive hits critical mass? It attacks the nearest percieved threat."

"That's not the point. The purpose of your parole is to ensure that you follow orders. You didn't."

"Oh, of course. I could have just wasted time trying to convince people and get their permission."

"Procedures and standards of evidence exist for a reason, Saraslha, even if they inconvenience you."

"Look, it's not like I don't understand the importance of conformity and cohesion."

"You certainly don't act like it–" Casa muttered.

"But I'm getting really bored, really fast on this planet, and if I'm not given a proper assignment soon, I might just make one up again."

"You've been here two days."

"I said 'really fast,' didn't I?" Saraslha stared blankly at her as the truck made a turn in the trail. "At least in prison I could break rocks and punch people."

Casa opened a miniature fridge on the center console, took out a bottle of cola and handed it to Saraslha. "None of this, however."

Saraslha perked at being handed the cola. "Okay, you win that argument. Big picture I'm still bored though."

The truck parked at a lot outside of a concrete wall connected to a dome structure which was at least 10 stories tall. This enormous structure was the only apparent entrance to whatever was within the walled enclosure.

"This is the Green Peaks Biolab," Casa said.

"Am I going to be a guinea pig for your science now?"

"Yes, we have the anesthetic and needles ready to go." Casa said in her usual plain, cold tone.

Saraslha snorted. "You almost had me there."

They went into the laboratory. It had an open lobby that branched into corridors and rooms. A middle-aged woman in a white coat approached them. "You must be Asset Fifteen," she said. Extending a hand to Saraslha. "It's good to finally meet you."

"What's up, doc?" Saraslha said as they shook. "You gonna be operating on me today?"

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Whoa, ease up now, it was a joke."

"Of… Of course." The Scientist cleared her throat. "My name is Ariel Hansen, and I've devoted the past decade of my life to studying the zerg."

"Is that so? I'm something of a biologist myself."

"Really…" Hansen pushed her glasses in. "Then surely you must know the difference between the I and F infestation substrates?"

"Well I know there's about twelve different things the mutagen tries to do once it enters a host–"

"You don't. What about the Perulon Principle and its correlation with host mass?"

"I know that the bigger the host, the less it tries to create external features." As Saraslha said this, her head slowly began to tilt.

"Do you know the formula, though?"

"From my perspective it's a behavioral paradigm, not a formula."
"Wrong, it's a mathematical formula, and you evidently don't know it."

"I already understand the natures your math is being used to describe. You're asking a bird to walk to its destination."
Hansen't brow raised. "So you believe you've above mathematics?"

Saraslha's head continued to tilt further, her eyes wide and curious as she looked Dr. Hansen in the face.

Hansen inhaled. "Perhaps before we claim to be an expert in biology, we should check ourselves. Wouldn't you agree?"

Saraslha's head remained tilted in a display of curiosity. "I don't understand."

"What I'm saying?

"What I'm looking at."

There was a brief span of silence before Casa walked in front of Saraslha. "Alright, I believe introductions are past. Let's go." She took Saraslha's shoulder and ushered her along. "Once I've introduced you to the town just outside this facility, I can turn to my other duties."

Dr. Hansen said nothing as they walked away.

Casa spoke as they headed to a different door out of the facility. "Don't judge Doctor Hansen too harshly. Her personality is a petty negative weighed against her contributions to science."

"Wha– Hansen? Casa, I'mma be honest, I'm thinking about what I want for dinner tonight."

Casa stared neutrally at her for a few seconds as they walked. Saraslha stared back. Casa's expression was cold and clinical, Saraslha's was relaxed and unengaged.

Casa shrugged, looking ahead again. "Suit yourself. You're proving to be less of a handful today."
"I'd rather be busy."

They exited through a different side of the facility and emerged to a town-like arrangement of metal habitats.

The inhabitants were all infested Terrans. Deformed postures and random zerg outgrowths defined the visual appearance of what was well over a hundred people in view. Beyond these physical features, they behaved no differently from the inhabitants of any other human town. Several of them gave passing glances to Saraslha and Casa, but otherwise went about their business.

Saraslha stared agape at them. Casa was looking at her sideways, gauging her reaction. "Questions?"
Saraslha spoke after a pause. "Why… didn't I sense them?"

"Their hivemind receptacles have been removed. Not only this, but they've regained their original minds and free will… To varying extents."

"...How?"

"I don't know the exact science, but it's the 'cure' which the program here has achieved after years of work. These people still have to live with their infestation, but their minds are protected from it."

"From my perspective…" Saraslha was still staring in near disbelief. "It would have been very easy to come up with a mutagen that didn't affect the brain."

"But you, and the Swarm never bothered to, since you never had a need for such a thing." Casa said dispassionately.

"Yeah, I guess that's true."

"I'm introducing you to this place…" Casa said. "Because it's where you'll be staying for the remainder of your parole."

"I might have to go behind your back on that–"

"It's not up for discussion, Saraslha. You revealed what you are to the public. Your presence among them would cause a panic, or someone to attack you. In case you weren't aware, humans are not at all fond of zerg."

"I could just change my look and name–"

Casa facepalmed and spoke with a sarcastic tone. "Everybody, meet the new girl who showed up out of the blue right after Syrenne was revealed to be a zerg and sent to the infested enclave, and pay no mind to the similar mannerisms and speech."

Saraslha's mouth twisted. "I mean… I wouldn't announce myself to the world–"

"It's not happening. You're staying here, so make yourself comfortable."

"Alright!" Saraslha raised her hands. "I can live with this. It's fine."

"And you will not leave this enclave without my express permission."

"I wouldn't dream of slipping out while you're watching."

"I don't like the loophole that line offers you. Promise you won't pull another stunt."

"No."

Casa stepped closer. She was not taller than Saraslha, and yet a lack of emotion or inhibition, which her eyes often manifested, gave off waves of intimidation; this was somebody who would take life without blinking. "I don't think you properly appreciate what I could do to you. You've been flippant and disrespectful this entire time, and I've only generously allowed it."

"Are you trying to cow me? That's adorable." Saraslha leaned forward with a crooked smirk. "Your Dominion has war knocking on its gates. So why don't you be a good girl and not get in my way of helping you win it?"

"Don't overestimate your value to us. Should you prove to be too difficult to control, you'll be disposed of."

Saraslha exhaled and rolled her eyes, as though talking to a child and bored of it. "I know the big picture game, Casa. There's no ignorance of mine for you to prey upon there. The outcome of this war will determine whether your leaders remain in power. They're not going to jeopardize that by disposing of a trump card like me over discipline issues."

Casa held up an index finger. "I catch you outside this enclave, you'll receive one warning. I suggest you listen to it in that situation."

"Yes yes, I saw your sticky bomb gun. Real scary, it'd kill me quite quickly."

Casa said nothing, continuing her cold stare.

"...And now you're beginning to bore me." Saraslha said. "Are you done? Can I go?"

Casa tossed Saraslha a leather wallet with two aluminum cards inside. "One of those is a key; Habitat Fifteen is yours. Don't harm the locals or leave without my permission." After saying this, Casa headed back to the lab dome.

"Their fleet outnumbers ours by a factor of six."

Reyla Bok, the head of Dominion Military Intelligence made this report to a table attended by the Emperor and 7 highest-ranking generals and admirals.

Bok continued, showing pictures of the UED fleet taken from a distance. "Our reconnaissance drones have painted a fairly clear picture of their fleet, and assuming that this is the only body of enemy forces headed to our Sector, and discounting what appear to be transport and logistics vessels, not dedicated combat ships, their capital ship count and presumed strike capability is roughly six times that of the Dominion."

The picture flipped to a close-up of one of their capital ships. "The bulk of their battlefleet is composed of these. Their ID beacons designate them as Gungnir-class Battlecruisers. They're 1.5 times the mass of a minotaur class, and as for their primary spinal mount we assume, based on its muzzle design, that it's a kinetic weapon rather than the thermo-ballistic principle used in the yamato cannon."

The next picture, of a ship whose volume dwarfed that of the Gungnir Battlecruisers. "We've confirmed the existence of three of these ships, designated 'Dreadnoughts'. For now our intelligence on them, as with all UED assets is severely limited."

"Dreadnought." The Emperor said, sampling the word. "That word is quite prominent in Earth culture, is it not?"

Reyla Bok nodded. "It's a title shared with naval vessels in Earth history whose unprecedented size, firepower and strategic flexibility revolutionized naval warfare.

The Emperor nodded at this and turned to Matt Horner. "Admiral. Assume the diplomatic worst-case scenario and all-out war. What is our strategy against this fleet?"

"The same that was used against the Golden Armada during the End War. Our fleet will avoid directly confronting theirs, pick off smaller detachments when possible, and rely on the defenses of our fortress worlds to deter terrestrial invasion."

"Planetary fortification is a monumental undertaking, Admiral." The Emperor said. "We can't protect all of our worlds in this way."

"It's inevitable that many of our worlds will need to endure occupation." Admiral Horner stood and turned on a star map. He highlighted large swathes of star systems in the Dominion's fringe. "A fleet as large as the Directorate's will burn through the supplies it brought very quickly. They'll need to occupy worlds, preferably worlds with existing infrastructure, and establish local supply sources as quickly as possible. We'll prepare the vulnerable worlds on our fringe for guerilla resistance. Keeping our own fleet alive will force the Directorate's to remain at a battle-ready state, maximizing their supply consumption, as well as keeping them coalesced in large flotillas, slowing their invasion plans."

"It's decided." Valerian Mengsk said. "Our strategy will be to deny the Directorate fleet succor, pressuring them to sign a truce with us and establish diplomatic channels… I had honestly thought a new fleet from Earth would be bigger than this."

Reyla Bok interjected. "The Directorate relies on its fleet to keep its colonies in line. They can't send their full strength to a distant sector."

Valerian nodded. "We still need to ascertain their intentions and goals. Make that your priority, Bok."

She nodded. "Yes, Lord Mengsk."

Casa had gone to Hoffman's Armory, a gun store in the middle of town.

"If you'd be so kind," she said to a man behind the counter as she showed an ID card. "Ask Mister Hoffman whether my requisition is available."

"He's out for lunch."

"I'll wait."

"Casa!" Constance's voice as she approached. Her face had multiple stitches and an arm was in a sling. "Where's Syrenne?"

"I'm not at liberty to say. And don't even think about reading my mind."

Constance's mouth twisted. "She's not with you, and you wouldn't have had time to leave the planet and come back, so you must have stashed her somewhere in the area."

"Constance, I don't want you going anywhere near her in your present mindset."

"She lied to me! She was that damn princess this whole time!"

Random people in the store glanced at Constance.
"Quiet down." Casa said.

Constance spread her uninjured arm. "Everybody in town already knows. And now she's going to answer to me."

"She's a high-value Dominion asset, and not to be touched."

Constance leaned forward, getting in Casa's face. "I'll be gentle."

Marcus' voice interjected from near the doors. "If it isn't my two favorite psycho bitches in one place. What a wonderful time."

"The hell do you want, Marcus?" Constance said. "Did you come for another lesson in manners?"

"Careful, Constance." He said as he stopped near them. "Too much saber-rattling, and I might forget to consider your injury."

Constance snorted. "You think I need both my arms to kick your ass?"

"Yeah."

Casa stepped partially between them. "Marcus, you aren't still working for Syrenne, are you?"

"I might, I might not. What's it to you?"

Constance interjected. "You can't seriously consider working for her, knowing what she is."

"Actually yes, I very much can consider it."

"Tch, typical."

"How was she paying you?" Casa said.

Marcus shrugged. "Mentioned something about mining operations."

"Wow, such loyalty." Constance sniped.

"She's not paying me to keep my mouth shut."

"Mining operations…" Casa was frowning.

"Wait a minute…" Constance frowned as well. "You think she has a damn hive cluster out there someplace?"

"That, or several."

"Where did she get the means?"

Casa shrugged. "There were feral zerg on this planet of which we weren't aware. She could have taken control of a couple of their drones."

"She can do that?"

"How do you think she stopped the ultralisk?"

"That… two-faced–" Constance hit the counter. "And how the hell is she selling the resources?"

Casa shrugged. "I don't have all the answers, and I'm not letting you interrogate her."

"You speak as though that's up to you…" Constance said in a low voice as she walked out of the gun store.

Marcus had been summoned to the Hall of Governance in the Haven Republic's mountain capital. He'd been told that Tana Strommen, the Chief Councillor wanted to speak with him, and it involved his interactions with Syrenne Cromford, whom the public was now aware was Princess Saraslha of the Zerg Swarm. He sat outside of Strommen's office, waiting until a prior appointment had concluded.

For all of his bad habits, Marcus was a psionic prodigy like Constance, and had learned a litany of abilities which Haven's academy had barely touched upon. Included among these was enhanced senses.

He boosted his own hearing to eavesdrop on whatever was being said in the Chief Councilwoman's office.

A man was speaking. "...then dealing with her should be easy if it becomes necessary. I don't understand the purpose of all this testing and precaution. Tell the Dominion to take their pet off our planet."

"I'm not going to make any demands until I know what their intentions are." The Chief Councilwoman's voice.

"That zerg creature caused a fiasco on Korhal, she could cause one here as well."

"The facts of that event are shrouded at best. For all we know she was trying to stop the hybrid from being released."

"It's more likely she released it on purpose."

"We all have an opinion, and based on her actions on our planet thus far, I'm inclined to extend benefit of the doubt. She dealt with a threat which you failed to detect."

"So she saved a town. That gesture means nothing when it's in her interest to ingratiate herself… Also, I know what you're doing, Marcus."

Marcus froze. The man in the office was known as William. He was close to the Chief Councilwoman, and despite Marcus never sensing psionic power from him, his senses and read of other people were always uncannily sharp.

"What's going on?" The Chief Councilwoman.

"The psychic child you wanted to question is spying on us."

"I see. Come in, Marcus."

Marcus walked past the secretary, who only offered a confused look in resistance to him entering the office.

A blonde woman in a white officer's uniform sat at the desk. Standing beside it was William, a man with a gaunt face and white hair.

Marcus was invited to have a seat. "Apologies for the eavesdrop." He said in an amicable tone.
"Don't worry about it." Strommen said.

"Then if I could just vouch for Princess Saraslha's character, I believe her to be a fine individual who–"

"Don't waste our time with platitudes." William chimed in. "Your word on that matter is mud."
"William, he's still a kid. Go easy on him." Strommen looked Marcus in the eyes. "I just had a few questions for you, but first I want to ask you if there was anything you'd be willing to confess?"

Marcus had dropped any pretense of flattery or rhetoric; it wouldn't work on these people. "Why would I confess anything to you?"

"Because it could mean the difference between a slap on the wrist and prison."

"All Syrenne– Saraslha, had me do was carry a tablet around and run a little ad-hoc information network. That's the god's honest truth."

"And why did you do this for her?"

"She paid me."

"Where did she acquire the credits?"

"That's none of my business and I didn't ask."

"It didn't occur to you that a convict paying you large sums of money could be potentially hazardous for you?"

"Was she convicted here, or by the Dominion?"

The Chief Councilwoman smiled lightly at this. "It's hard to argue with that. Isn't it, William?"

William spoke. "I grow bored with this maggot. Are we finished with him?"

"I have just one more question, then he can go." Strommen said, leaning forward with elbows set on her desk. "Saraslha, is she competent?"

Marcus took a moment to consider this question. "A little bit, yeah."

In the privacy of her habitat, Saraslha regurgitated a corrosion-resistant capsule, opened it and took out her old blacktooth, a communication device which used a proxy network that couldn't be traced.

She dialed an ID code and waited several moments. "...Hey, Ralph! So listen, I have to change the dead drop for my next shipment… Yeah, I've got people sniffing on my end, you know how it goes, can never be too safe… Longitude -990, latitude 410, same planet. And to make you whole on the inconvenience, I'm giving you a fifty percent discount on this one… Understood… It's actually 1.2 times the usual volume, but I'm not charging extra if you–"

The door to her habitat opened and Casa entered briskly, aiming her sticky bomb launcher. "Don't move, Saraslha. I got every word of that."

Saraslha remained frozen in place. "Whoa, easy, what's going on?"

"Don't play ignorant. It's all been recorded. Now hand over that illegal communication device- set it on the table and back away."

Saraslha complied, setting her blacktooth on the table and stepping back, her hands raised. "What exactly are you accusing me of?"

"You've been caught in the act of unsanctioned correspondence over an illegal network, as well as an attempt to make a black market transaction."

Saraslha took a long, patient breath, slowly blinking. "Correspondence and transaction with whom?"

Casa grabbed the Blacktooth off the table. "With whoever was on the other end of this device. It, and its call logs will be taken as evidence."

"Casa, what exactly do you think that black hunk of plastic is?"

Casa was annoyed. "I've no more words to waste with you, Saraslha. You'll be detained until I've made my report, and High Command comes to a decision on what to do with you." She turned to leave."

"Casa, wait."

"You'll remain put. There are guards outside and–"

"Casa, just stop for two seconds, I'm trying to save you from embarrassment."

Casa stopped at this, understanding at this point when Saraslha was joking around, and when she was serious.

Saraslha continued. "Do an electronics scan of that piece of plastic."

Casa frowned, then took out a multitool to scan the blacktooth for electronics. "Reading… negative." Upon announcing this, what little color could normally be seen on Casa's pale face drained, and she looked at Saraslha.

The atmosphere in the room had shifted drastically with who was now in control. "I'll repeat my questions." Saraslha said as she slowly walked toward Casa. "On what network was I supposedly corresponding? And with what party was I supposedly arranging a transaction?"

Casa looked at the black hunk of plastic that might at one point have been a blacktooth, but wasn't. Her entire plan had been founded on it being one, and now that foundation was gone. The thrill of catching Saraslha in the act had vanished. "I heard you. You were arranging a transaction–"

"You heard me say random things to myself. My, what a menace I must be." Saraslha said with a flat sarcasm.

Casa was frozen, unresponsive.

Saraslha was close to her, looking into Casa's eyes with an intense stare. "What, in your mind, made you think…" Her eyes became wide, beaming, demonic. "That a plan founded on outsmarting me would be a sound one?"

Casa backed away from this, almost stumbling. She turned to leave the habitat.
"Hold on now!" Saraslha's voice had normalized.

"W- tch-what is it?"

Saraslha pointed to the black hunk of plastic in Casa's hand, a look of innocent surprise on her face that was nothing like her previous, demonic stare. "Are you robbing me? That's mine."

With a jerky motion, Casa tossed it back to Saraslha then continued walking briskly away.

Tana Strommen was at the head of a horseshoe-shaped table where the entire elected council of the Haven Republic had gathered.

A man of wide stature –he was fat– stood at the foot of the table, with both of its horseshoe ends pointing at him. His name was Maldin Brahms, and he claimed to be an ambassador of the United Earth Directorate. His ship's flight log leading back to their recently arrived fleet proved this.

Strommen spoke. "This is the first opportunity we've been given to ascertain the intentions of the Directorate in this sector, and we're eager to hear what you have to say.

"Well yes, of course." Brahms blurted with a bellicose bellow. His sleepy eyes contrasted with his booming, aggressive voice. "The intentions of the United Earth Directorate are quite simple: Human reunification."

"What does that entail?"

"You see…" Brahms began to pace in a small area. "For a period of history, every living human was under the umbrella of our precursor state, the United Power League. We simply wish to return humanity to the total unity it once enjoyed."

"By force, correct?"

"That depends on you. Every planetary government will be offered the opportunity to surrender peacefully and rejoin the fold. Force will be employed against those who refuse– and needless to say, should you choose to avert bloodshed and accept our offer, things will go much more easily for you."

Strommen's hands knit. She had to summon willpower to keep her face from twisting in anger at these threats. "What are the terms of surrender you offer?"

"You will make your world's resources, land and infrastructure available for military use for as long as the war lasts."

"Go on."

"Your council will be disbanded and its members given comfortable retirements. Your military will be disbanded as your world comes under the protection of our forces. A colonial governor will be appointed by the Directorate, to be chosen by our Grand Moff, Julia DuGalle."

"Is that all?" Strommen saw the other councilors exchanging glances with each other.

"One final term: Any humans infested with zerg mutagens are to be identified and turned over to the United Earth Directorate."

"Alright, I've heard enough." Strommen said this with a deathly frankness.

"You'll be given 48 hours to come to a decision–"

"You'll receive our answer now. Strommen stood up. "The Haven Republic is a sovereign nation. Any encroachment upon that sovereignty will be met with proportionate force."

Another Councilor, named Laudimilk, stood up. He spoke to the Ambassador. "She does not speak for the entire Council unilaterally. We'll have a proper answer for you within the 48 hours–"

"Let me make it clear to you, in case I was too vague." Strommen continued speaking to the Ambassador. "If I see UED soldiers on my planet, they'll be shot. If I see your warships overhead, they'll be destroyed."

"Strommen, that's enough!" Councilor Laudimilk shouted.

"I believe you should listen to the cooler heads on your council." Brahms said, unfazed with a hand resting on his gut.

"And I believe you should take your leave before my patience with you reaches its limit." Strommen said.

"Stop this, Strommen!" Laudimilk's voice elevated more.

"Straus." Strommen's head turned to an armed guard near the door. "If this Directorate pig is still in the room after thirty seconds have passed, you're to shoot him."

Straus obeyed the order, raising his rifle and aiming it at the Ambassador.

Ambassador Brahms jolted at this, his cool facade melting at the realization that he wasn't safe in this room. "I knew coming out here was a waste of my time. You colonial hicks don't know generosity when it's offered to you on a platter!"

"Twenty five seconds." Strommen said.

Brahms aimed a finger at the table of councilors. "You all could have spoken up! You all could have saved yourselves! But you let this stupid bitch run her mouth!"

"Twenty seconds."

"Chief Councilor! Cease this madness at once!" Laudimilk shouted.
The councilors other than Laudimilk said nothing. They were frozen with indecision.

"We gave your shit-heap of a planet a chance to make the reasonable choice, and you've thrown it back in our faces!" Brahms said.

"Fifteen seconds."

Brahms' head jerked frantically, trying to remember where the door was. It was directly behind him, and he speedwalked to it.

When he was gone, all the councilors sat down as their dispositioned calmed.

Laudimilk was running a hand through his hair. "You did not have the right to do that, Strommen."

"What was there to discuss?" Strommen said. "You heard their terms."

"Yes, I did. They were terms of reunification."

"Terms of doing as they please with our peoples' rights, terms of putting a bullet through Dr. Hansen's work."

"The world-" Laudimilk had to visibly keep himself calm. "...The world, is not black and white, Strommen. It's give and take, grey, compromise."

"So you want to compromise with people whose recourse is the muzzle of a gun."

"Is that any different from the deal we made with the Dominion?"

"The Dominion wasn't threatening to invade us if we didn't accept."

"But it was still a compromise, Strommen." Laudimilk said, tapping the table.

Strommen stood and slammed the table with both hands, glaring. "A compromise of what, exactly? Not our sovereignty, not our rights. What, Laudimilk?"

Laudimilk threw his hands up, leaning back as his head shook. "You don't understand politics, Strommen, you never did. You sit in that chair because of your war achievements."

"I sit in this chair because the people elected me." Strommen calmed, sitting down. "But you are right, I've been a soldier most of my adult life and don't understand your world. It feels like an alien dimension where nothing keeps a shape or connects together true."

"Then perhaps you're in the wrong profession."

Strommen smiled with amusement. "Or I need to fix this one."

"What are you doing here?" Saraslha said as she hauled a dubiously connected stack of scrap metal to a pile she was making in an open grass field behind her habitat building.

"You're not going to ask how I got in here?" Constance said, staring intensely at the zerg girl.

Saraslha paused what she was doing, briefly, staring upward. "I'd simply guess that you came in through the front door. There wasn't exactly a lot of security there."

Constance frowned. "...No, I scaled the wall–"

Saraslha snorted as she took a metal rod and used an arc welder to apply it to a tower she was building.

"I didn't come here to be belitt–" Constance's voice was drowned out by the buzz and crackling of the welder. She looked away from its blinding flash, which Saraslha was casually looking at with her bare eyes. I didn't come here to be belittled. She said telepathically.

You went through effort you didn't need to. I find that funny.

Constance approached Saraslha, grabbed her shoulder and forced her to turn around and make eye contact. "Enough games. You need to answer for all your shit."

"What shit specifically?" Saraslha grabbed another chunk of scrap without looking away from Constance.

That… sob story you told me about how you screwed up and lost your friend. It was the Neo-Hybrid Crisis which you caused!

"Bingo!" Saraslha said as she turned to resume welding another support to her 4-meter tower.

"Why did you lie to me?"

"I don't know, could be the fact that after learning I'm a zerg, you're seriously thinking about killing me."

"There's no way you read my mind. I'd know if you tried."

Saraslha's head turned and stared flatly. "Your mind? It's written on your face."

"You…" Constance lifted a finger. "Got me to like you, Syrenne, to respect you. Now I know who you really are, and I hate it."

"Okay… It sounds like a great deal of your impression of me is shaped by my race."

Constance's head shook. "What I have a problem with is your history; your actions."
"My role in the Neo-Hybrid Crisis?"

"That, and your stint as an ambassador, trying to sell the zerg as friendly and having turned over a new leaf."

"For what my word is worth, my mother truly isn't interested in war."
"I'll believe that when I see a star freeze over."

Saraslha shrugged. "Thought as much. Wanna hear my side of the hybrid story?"

"Did you set it free?"

"I did, about a week before the crisis."

Constance winced at this. She was proud of her own bullshit radar, and yet didn't sense any deception from this strange statement.

Saraslha continued. "And after setting her free, she tried to kill me and I cut her head off."

Constance's head slowly began to tilt.

Saraslha stood and dropped the welder. "She was purposely starved inside the container to keep her weak you see; clinging to life when we fought, and she still almost got me."

"Purposely starved… By GenTek."

"How do you think they kept a live hybrid contained? Anyway, I don't know how she went from decapitation to alive in the time between my fight with her and the crisis. I assume GenTek found a way to resurrect her."

"From the story you're giving me, it sounds like it was ninety nine percent GenTek's fault the crisis happened."

Saraslha's head shook. "Kuraski didn't want to release the hybrid. It was a desperation play since he was convinced I intended to set off a nuclear bomb in the city."

"And did you?"

"I didn't even have one. But he thought I did– anyway. I had plenty of opportunities to go home, but I wanted to prove I was better than Kuraski; smarter than him. My pride wouldn't allow conceding anything to him, and it came back to bite me."

Constance grunted and began to pace, glaring. "Because people like you view conflict as a chess game, where people are subject to your strategies and cost/benefit calculations."

"Kuraski thinks that way as well, and I recall you speaking well of him not long ago."

"It's not always a bad thing…" Constance stopped pacing. "And I think, in light of what I know now… I can tolerate you."

"So we're friends again?"

"Don't push it."

Saraslha smirked. "Just wait, I'll prove myself to you again soon enough."

Constance exhaled with annoyance. "Good god, you have an ego…"

"Why thank you."

Constance's phone vibrated, and she took it out.

"What do you have there?"

"It's a Terran communication devic–"

"No, I mean who texted you?"

"The Council has put out a general alert. All reservists are being raised to readiness level one."

"What's that mean?"

"It means we have to be ready to deploy at an hour's notice."

"Does that mean war is on the way?"

"War, pirate attack, zerg, or a drill." Constance put her phone away. "Whatever the case I have to go."

"Hold on, I want to ask you something…" Saraslha walked in front of her.

"What is it?"

"If you find yourself in a situation where there's no way out, and nothing you can do can stop the worst from happening, will you accept my help?"

Constance whispered her answer. "I can't say that I would."

"Because the zerg can't be trusted?"

"Of what worth is our success if it's attained with zerg help?"

"Terrans are renowned for their ability to use every tool available."

"And what happens when we try to do that with zerg? What happens when we trifle with the idea of controlling them? The Earthlings tried that, and it didn't end well."

Constance continued. "You see, Saraslha, the zerg took away my family, but I'm past being passionate about them, I'm lucid. I see what they've done and what they want, and I won't ignore that for the sake of convenience or what I might wish to be true. You're not a good person, Saraslha, you're only self-interested."

Saraslha blinked slowly. "You speak of 'good' and attainment of goals like they're two separate things."

"Is there a line you won't cross?" Constance said, raising her voice over Saraslha's. "Any line, if circumstances dictate it's in your interest to cross it?"

"Yes." Saraslha said quietly. "I'll never betray myself or tear myself down, least of all because somebody told me it was 'right.'"

"If that's the case then why did you take the fall for the Neo Hybrid Crisis, when according to you it was mostly Kuraski's fault?"

"I kept my dignity and remained true to myself by doing that."

"How? You purposely told a lie that made your situation worse."

"Because, Constance…" Saraslha went to pick up her welding electrode holder and another piece of scrap metal. Her head turned to her again, and she smiled easily. "I walked away from that situation with the most valuable thing."

Emperor Valerian Mengsk was faced with a Directorate envoy on a 3D projection: A slender woman in a white and blue uniform.

"Our terms are quite simple, Emperor." She spoke with an accent which Valerian, in his education of Earth history, recognized as French. "You will sign and publicly declare a commitment to cooperate with our forces in every capacity asked of you. Secondly, you will make a similar commitment to transition your government and worlds to a state of colonyhood under the Directorate. At the end of this transition, you and your inner circle are promised a comfortable retirement."

"I don't believe you've introduced yourself." Valerian said smoothly. "I'd like to know the name of the person I'm conducting diplomacy with."

"I am Julia DuGalle, I was appointed grand moff of the Koprulu Sector colonies."
"The Directorate really must be here to stay if they sent a politician along."

"Spare me the chatter. All I expect of you is an answer. Should you require time to come to a decision, you will be generously given 48 hours. Refuse or fail to reply, and we will be at war."

"You shouldn't require a history lesson, Grand Moff, but we've technically been at war since your previous fleet came to our sector 14 years ago. No armistice nor peace treaty has been signed over that time."

"Because the Directorate does not recognize your Dominion as a legitimate state. Our diplomatic overtures are only to prevent needless bloodshed between humans."

"And pit us against each other, I'm sure."

"You are welcome to speculate our intentions as you wish. All that concerns me is your answer."

"How will my people be treated under Directorate rule?"

"Their lives will carry on as normal, but under the protection of our fleets as we campaign to eliminate the alien menaces with whom you share this sector, and whom you've failed to eliminate yourself."

"Ah, so they'll be spared the same ideological indoctrination to which your other colonies are subject?"

DuGalle said nothing, her brow furrowing.

"You see ambassador, I've some knowledge of the goings-on in your own home territory."
The UED propagated an ideology of 'human purity,' which considered humanity in its natural form to be sacrosanct, and any permanent artificial implant or prosthesis to be an unnatural breach of this purity. Cyborgs were shunned, and all UED powered armor suits had been redesigned not to use any cybernetics on the wearer.

Valerian continued. "I'm also aware of the envoys you sent to all of my subject worlds and allies, offering them a separate, secret opportunity to surrender independently and come under your… 'protection.'"

"You are trying my patience, Mengsk." DuGalle said. "Continue to do so, and I'll interpret it as a refusal of our demands."

"But I have something special to show you." Valerian said in a theatrical tone as he stood and motioned an aide to come to the table carrying a polished wooden box. "You see, your ambassadors were in grave violation of Dominion law. It is forbidden to conduct diplomacy with a subject world without the knowledge of my government. A price for this transgression had to be paid."

Valerian motioned again, and the aide opened the box and dumped its contents onto the table: Several dozen severed human hands.

Julia's head snapped to somebody offscreen for a moment, then turned forward again. "Your culture is every bit as barbaric as I've been informed."

"Ah, but I am nothing if not generous. Their lost hands were replaced with prosthetics– the high end stuff, stronger and more precise than a natural hand. Of course they didn't have a choice in the matter. It would have been rude of them to leave before receiving my gift."

DuGalle was visibly restraining herself. She motioned to somebody offscreen, then walked out of her camera's field of view.

Somebody new walked in on the live 3D projection. An improbably tall man in military uniform whose white hair and face wrinkles denoted an advanced age. "Greetings to you, Emperor Mengsk. I'm Fleet Marshal Fredrick Carolus, commander of the armada which your survey drones have been busily snooping on." His tone was high-pitched and soft.

"Greetings to you as well, Fleet Marshal." Valerian said cordially. "What other business does the United Earth Directorate have with the Terran Dominion?"

Carolus absently rubbed his full goatee under the chin. "Based on how this conversation's gone, it appears we'll be heading to war. I just wanted a word with Mister Horner, your famous Admiral. Is he there?"

"He is." Valerian switched the projector camera to where Horner was sitting.

"What can I do for you, Fleet Marshal?" Horner said.

"The fact of our going to war with each other is out of our hands, but I want you to know that I'm thoroughly impressed with your accomplishments as a naval commander. Your strategy against the rampaging protoss armada was a masterclass. You have my respect, Mister Horner, for the incalculable service you've rendered to Humanity."

"Your praise is appreciated, Fleet Marshal, and I'm afraid I know next to nothing about you." Horner said.

"You will soon, I'm certain." Carolus said. "Shall we make the best possible effort to observe the rules of war, and, where practicable, treat one another with humanity despite the ugly reality of our coming conflict?"

"I concur, and am relieved to hear this from someone in your position."

Carolus nodded. "That'll be all." The projection lost its feed. It showed static for a few seconds before shutting off.

That concludes chapter 2! I've got 2 more finished chapters for weekly release, and then updates will take the pace of the time and motivation I have available to work on it. I don't believe in posting anything that didn't have 100% effort put into it, nor chapters less than 5K words in length, and I view a reasonable posting frequency as an acceptable sacrifice to uphold that standard. Thanks for reading!

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Obsidian Dreamweaver: Glowing praise that has nothing to say about the story being supposedly commented on, and could be applied with no changes to any other story because any statement it makes is in the realm of vague subjectivity. This being followed by content plugging. This person is copy-pasting the same message to different stories and simply inserting the title.