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goddess4302 · 7 years ago

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“I am the Swarm. Armies will be shattered. Worlds will burn. Now at last, on this world, vengeance shall be mine. For I am the Queen of Blades."

Sarah Louise[6][7] Kerrigan was a psychic terran female. She began her career as a Confederate ghost and later became the second-in-command of the Sons of Korhal.[8] Following Arcturus Mengsk's betrayal, she was captured and infested by the Zerg Swarm, ultimately becoming the self-proclaimed Queen of Blades[9] (a.k.a. the Zerg Queen)[10] and leader of the Swarm.[11]

At the Dominion Ghost Academy, ghosts in training are told the Confederacy allowed Kerrigan to "defect" to the zerg.[12] Non-control zerg strains referred to her as "the Kerrigan."[13]

Early Life:

Young Sarah Kerrigan's latent powers were demonstrated during an incident on TarKossia where she accidentally killed her mother (causing her head to "come apart") and damaged the brain of her father, Patrick. She was quickly taken in hand by Confederate agents and conscripted as a child into the Ghost Program. At eight years of age she scored highly on all phases of the psi-evaluations.[7][14] Indeed, the Confederacy had to readjust their entire psionic power measurement scale in order to account for her abilities.[6]

Kerrigan being escorted to the Ghost Academy

During ghost training, her most hated instructor was Lieutenant Rumm. Rumm attempted to break her sense of right and wrong and persuade her to demonstrate her psionic powers to prove to his superiors that she was psychic. Kerrigan refused, unwilling to relive what happened to her parents.

In an attempt to coerce her into using her powers, Rumm injected a kitten with a tumor-causing chemical, then ordered Kerrigan to use her powers to destroy the tumor or euthanize the kitten. Still unsuccessful Rumm threatened to shoot the kitten himself. Kerrigan refused once again and Rumm decided not to shoot, leaving the kitten to die slowly and painfully. Rumm later discovered his pistol's firing mechanism had been destroyed. However, the malfunction could be plausibly attributed to non-psionic factors, and so could not be treated as incontrovertible proof of her psionic powers.

A technician recommended the use of a neuro-adjuster, a device which would weaken a ghost's psionic powers and ensure their loyalty to the Confederacy. Rumm refused as a neuro-adjuster could kill the patient.

Sarah was taken to another room and strapped to a chair with a needle against her skin. In another room, she could see her brain-damaged father, similarly strapped to a chair. Rumm's scientists were about to inject her father with the same substance that caused the growth of a tumor in the kitten unless Sarah cooperated with the Confederacy. Instead, Sarah said she would kill herself and her father rather than use the power for the Confederacy. She was injected with the needle and quickly lost consciousness. Rumm felt he had no choice now but to employ the neuro-adjuster.[7][14]

The neural processing treatments left her a withdrawn and introverted young girl.[8] Kerrigan would spend a year undergoing mental torture at the hands of Lieutenant Rumm.[7]

Kerrigan in the knife fight exercise

Kerrigan's further training included a combat scenario between her and an elder opponent—done with combat knives while scientistswatched from overhead. Even at her young age, Kerrigan was able to defeat her opponent. In defiance, she used her psionic powers to shatter the glass of the viewing room the scientists were in. However, such defiance came to nothing—the Confederacy broke her down even further, to the point where Kerrigan was able to kill without remorse.[15]

Confederate Ghost:

“It killed my mother, and they didn't care. They unleashed it. It killed, and it didn't care. I killed, and I didn't care."

- Kerrigan reflecting on her time as a Confederate ghost(src)

Kerrigan was designated Ghost No. 24601[6] (often simply Ghost No. 24)[14] following the successful completion of training. As a Confederate agent she would go on to assassinate many of the Confederacy's enemies.[8]

The Assassination of Angus Mengsk:

In 2489, senator Angus Mengsk declared Korhal to be a free world, independent of the Confederacy. In response, the Confederacy assigned a trio of ghosts to assassinate him and his family. Kerrigan was one of the three, and was accompanied by ghosts 24506 and 24718.[7] They easily bypassed his security system, killing him, his wife and young daughter.[16] Kerrigan was the one who personally killed Mengsk,[6]decapitating him. The ghosts disappeared and took the senator's head with them.[16]

The Umojan Mission:

One of Kerrigan's missions involved the newly formed Umojan Protectorate. She took position above a political rally. She lined up her sights on the target, even as a child obstructed her view. She was seemingly able to make the kill.[15]

Xenomorph Research: Kerrigan later participated in the xenomorph experiments at the Fujita Facility on Vyctor 5. The creatures were found to respond to telepathic commands when drugged and isolated.[7]

Uprising:

Arcturus Mengsk, leader of the recently-formed Sons of Korhal and son of Angus Mengsk, discovered Kerrigan was at Fujita through Umojan sources. He organized a raid on the facility to retrieve her, although the rebel soldiers were not told of Kerrigan's significance or presence. By this time Kerrigan was the only experimental subject left; the remainder, unable to elicit as strong a response from the xenomorphs, were killed to maintain secrecy. The rebel raid was successful and an unconscious Kerrigan, defecting Confederates, and research materials, were conveyed to the rebels' base of operations, the battlecruiser Hyperion. There Kerrigan's neural inhibitor was removed.[7] A number of cybernetic implants were left; years later, Kerrigan suggested this was to prevent the onset of insanity by inhibiting her ability to read thoughts.[17]

Upon awakening in Hyperion's sickward, Kerrigan was greeted by Arcturus Mengsk and Somo Hung. While Hung was smitten from the outset, she sensed Mengsk's animosity. However, Mengsk assured her she was a guest with full access to the ship.

Over the following intervals Kerrigan regained fragments of past memories. She welcomed the frequent visitations by Hung but always declined his invitations to "hang out." Kerrigan was privy to the Sons of Korhal xenomorph investigation, and helped to spread rumors about the creatures amongst the troops to harden resolve against the Confederacy. The Fringe Worlds where the xenomorphs were first found had been depopulated by Confederate bio-chemical weapons to keep the aliens secret. Kerrigan's decision to join the rebels was aided by the knowledge that Hung's parents were among those killed.

During an engagement between the Confederate battlecruiser Norad II and the Hyperion, Ghost No. 24506 boarded the rebel ship. Kerrigan detected and killed the ghost. The dead ghost's hostile environment suit was set aside for Kerrigan's use.

After a return and second departure from Umoja, Kerrigan began a relationship with Hung, almost simultaneously getting on worse terms with Lieutenant Pollock Rimes. He was already frustrated at the level of confidence she possessed in Mengsk's graces and defending Hung from his verbal abuse only made matters worse.

As part of the Sons of Korhal, she was involved in a nearly suicidal attack on the Ghost Academy on Tarsonis. She found Rumm, who had been promoted to Major, and took her rather messy revenge, both for herself and for Hung, who had been killed by the major. She subsequently returned to the Hyperion with a captured Ghost No. 24718, whom Mengsk killed as an act of revenge for the death of his family two years ago. To Kerrigan's disgust and horror, much of Mengsk's recent actions had been dictated by his search for vengeance for the three ghosts who murdered his family...and having delivered the first two to Mengsk, Kerrigan was the third. However, Mengsk found her to be more useful to him alive and decided to keep her around, claiming that he'd forgiven her. Kerrigan was extremely grateful for Mengsk's decision to spare her and now fully believed in the Sons' cause.[7]

Rebel yell:By 2499, Kerrigan's dedication to the Sons of Korhal and her competency in the field were clear to all. However, her personal loyalties were hazy, and it remained to be seen if her fellow soldiers could be loyal to her in turn.[18]

Early Actions:

In 2499, Kerrigan was sent to the moon of G-2275. She familiarized herself with the Confederate base there.[19]

By December of that year, with the outbreak of the Great War, knowledge of the xenomorphs, now known as zerg, was no secret, nor was the presence of a second alien race called the protoss. During this time, Kerrigan was on Mar Sara stirring anti-Confederate sentiments, meeting UNN reporter Michael Liberty in the process. A few days later, Kerrigan encountered Liberty again, who'd got on the wrong side of Confederate law. She got him into contact with Arcturus Mengsk, who wanted Liberty to spread pro-Sons of Korhal propaganda.[17]

The Antigan Revolution: Kerrigan resurfaced on Antiga Prime, whose colonists had become very tired of the Confederacy's heavy handed policies.[17] She reported that Antiga Prime was ready to openly revolt against the Confederacy. However, the Confederacy was aware of this, and locked down the revolt with General Duke's Alpha Squadron, whose troops seemingly took over the Antigan revolutionary military base.[20]Kerrigan scouted out the area, then linked up with Captain Jim Raynor. The meeting didn't go well, Kerrigan's telepathy sensing Raynor's less than pure thoughts.[21] Kerrigan infiltrated the military base and assassinated the Confederate officer in the command center, placing the base under the control of the Sons of Korhal. The combined forces then descended upon Alpha Squadron's own base, destroying it.[20] Immediately afterward, Duke's battlecruiser, the Norad II, was shot down by the zerg over Antiga Prime. Duke called for help from his position in the crippled vessel. Mengsk ordered a rescue, prompting a sarcastic response from Kerrigan; she wanted to know if Mengsk had lost his mind. If he had, it didn't matter, as Duke was rescued, and he and his forces joined the rebels.[22]

Over the course of the fighting on Antiga Prime, Raynor and Kerrigan worked together on numerous occasions, becoming a formidable team.[23]

The Trump Card:

The Antigan campaign reached its end when the Confederacy's Delta Squadron launched a major assault against the Sons of Korhal. Mengsk called a meeting of his commanders to discuss the situation. He had access to the plans for the Transplanar Psionic Waveform Emitter, or psi-emitter, which his forces had stolen from the Confederates. The devices could attract the attention of zerg from across worlds. Mengsk told Kerrigan to plant the emitter in the Confederate base, which would lure the zerg to their position.[24]

As Kerrigan undertook the mission, she told Mengsk that she didn't think anyone deserved to have the zerg unleashed on them, but Mengsk seemed to believe her past was influencing her.[25] Teaming up with Liberty, the pair made their way across the battlefield, encountering both zerg and Confederate forces[17] before successfully planting the psi-emitter in the Confederate base. Kerrigan asked Mengsk to never again rely on this tactic, but he only mentioned that they would do whatever it took to save humanity.[26]

rriving on the Hyperion as Antiga Prime entered its death throes, Kerrigan met up with Raynor. Both were experiencing doubts as to what Mengsk was having them do, and they headed for the ship's galley for coffee and talk, their former antagonism having evaporated. Despite his history with telepaths, Raynor possessed genuine sympathy for Kerrigan.[17] Sympathy gave way to mutual friendship[27] and they "drew close".[28] At some point, Raynor was given or obtained a vidsnap of Kerrigan.[29]

Team Player:

Mengsk had noticed the improved relationship between Raynor and Kerrigan, and in the interim period between Antiga Prime and Tarsonis, he assigned them on a number of missions. The first was a mission back to G-2275's moon, in order to retrieve Confederate goliath designs. Kerrigan was there when Raynor and his team arrived, and the mission was a success.

Next, Raynor and Kerrigan were sent to raid a science facility on Orna III. Kerrigan, who knew her way around the facility, pretended to be a ghost who had arrested the criminal Raynor. The deception worked. Several scientists and all the test subjects were rescued. The corrupt scientists were killed and the facility destroyed. Afterwards, Raynor offered her a drink and a real date at Sam's Place. One thing led to another, and the two gave into their emotions. That night, as they lay in bed, Kerrigan made Raynor promise that if the darkness in her ever went out of control, he would stop it.

Their relationship took a blow over the issue of Mengsk however. Raynor had come to realize that Mengsk was no better than the government that he was trying to overthrow, that he was in this for personal gain rather than higher ideals. Kerrigan conceded part of the point, but still believed that Mengsk could bring about a better future for humanity. She voiced her concerns that she and Raynor should have never got involved.[19]

New GettysBurg:

en days after the fall of Antiga Prime,[17] Mengsk's revolutionary movement had reached Tarsonis, the Confederate capital world. Duke planned to assault the central space platform, allowing a small force to penetrate to the surface of Tarsonis.[30] Kerrigan, Raynor and Liberty fought their way through the streets of Tarsonis City[17] and Mengsk's forces successfully defeated the Confederates,[30] but his next move surprised and dismayed Kerrigan and Raynor; his forces planted psi-emitters.[31]

Billions of zerg were lured to Tarsonis, laying waste to the Confederacy's defenses. The protoss followed, descending upon the zerg's primary hive.

Mengsk ordered Kerrigan to protect the primary zerg hive from the protoss Expeditionary Force, allowing the zerg to complete the Confederacy's destruction. Raynor was getting increasingly uncomfortable with Mengsk's leadership and motivations, but was unable to convince Kerrigan to allow him to accompany her. Kerrigan completed her mission but was in turn overrun by the zerg. Mengsk callously refused to assist Kerrigan's troops; instead, the rebel fleet disengaged from the Tarsonian system.[32] Mengsk did so due to her lack of political reliability and because he wanted long-due vengeance for the deaths of his family.[6] The abandonment was the last straw for Raynor. He and Raynor's Rangers left the Sons of Korhal. Their first action as an independent group was an attempt to rescue Kerrigan; rising zerg activity forced them to withdraw before they could locate her.[17]

Capture By the Zerg:

As the terrans fled, the Zerg Swarm had captured Kerrigan. The Overmind sensed the ghost's formidable psychic powers and, on one hand, saw a great weapon against the protoss.[33]

More subtly, the Overmind realized Kerrigan was also the key to the zerg's salvation. The Overmind was unwillingly implanted with an overriding directive to destroy the protoss. It knew this was part of a greater apocalyptic plan by the fallen xel'naga Amon to destroy not only the protoss and zerg, but to remold creation in his own image. The Overmind believed it could resist Amon's control by infesting Kerrigan.[34] The Overmind's plan was intended to save the zerg, but it had no concern over the other races of the galaxy.[35]

Kerrigan was placed within a chrysalis by the creature Abathur. The process was painful, and she suffered much physical damage.[36] She was entrusted to the care of a cerebrate and its brood,[37] and was taken to Char,[33] where her telepathic powers reached out and contacted Mengsk and Raynor.[38] The psychic link with Raynor would persist.[27]

#starcraft

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kyliafanfiction-archive · 7 years ago

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The Confederacy died with Tarsonis. So much of the power and prestige had been locked up there for so long that with its collapse the rest of the Confederacy went with it. Arcturus Mengsk played coroner, of course, performing the autopsy and declaring that the patient had died of massive Zerg poisoning, compounded by Protoss trauma. The irony that Mengsk’s fingerprints were all over the Confederacy’s murder weapon mattered little to many and was ignored by most. As you might expect, it was not something UNN covered in those days. Before the last Confederate trooper was digested in a Zerg hive, Mengsk declared the Terran Dominion in order to unite the surviving planets, a shining new phoenix that would rise from the ashes and gather together all of humanity. Only by standing together, the former rebel declared, could we comet defeat the alien menaces. The first ruler of this bright, shining new government was Emperor Arcturus Mengsk I, ascending to the throne by popular acclamation. The irony of this last little fact, that most of the acclamation was Mengsk’s own, was also missed by most of the general populace.

Michael Liberty, The Liberty Manifesto “Liberty’s Crusade” by Dan Grubb

So much lol... and depressing, in this. Especially in light of Trump.

#Anti-Trump #Anti-Cheeto McTangerine #Starcraft #Liberty's Crusade #Michael Liberty #Maybe it's time I have a queue tag #the media

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fandomstuckportal · 4 years ago

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((i should rewatch off the grid...))

#art #stikbot #off the grid #regalius #general tarsonis #shift #tw gore #tw blood #tw robogore

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blizzweirdo · 6 years ago

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No Omen, No Country’s Cause Ch. 6

All right! So now we’re back from our flashback just in time to see the Umojan Navy rally to help the new Terran Republic and Tarsonis against the UED and Stukov’s forces. However, something’s not quite right, and the Umojan Navy must learn the truth behind Stukov’s actions.

As always, this chapter is also available on FanFiction.net, Archive of Our Own, and Wattpad.

If you submitted a name, look for it in this chapter! I think I added four or five from both public and private submissions. Thanks for your help!

Also, I lied... It’s not that late. Welcome to the longest chapter thus far.

NOVA LISBOA, UMOJA 16:42 UCST (10:42 DCST)

On stage, Figaro had just learned the court's plan for his wife Susanna and was beginning the first lines of "Se Voul Ballare." It was the first act of Il Nozze de Figaro and the first production of it at the Pasteur Opera House since the End War. Admiral Renata Marín was pleased to be there, having begged box-seat tickets off her commanding officer, Fleet Admiral Thierry Augustin, a donor. Her partner, Lieutenant General Wynand Vermaak, was less than enthusiastic and already nodding off to sleep. She should have known better than to bring him here; Marín knew he wouldn't enjoy it. It had been enough of a battle to get him into a suit, and he still chose to wear his motorcycle boots with it. She had to admit that she was more comfortable in the grey and teal of the Umojan Protectorate Navy's uniforms than in a black formal dress and heels, but she prided herself on her ability to adapt—and she had fell in love with opera in the academy. She and Vermaak had known each other since then, and she had changed a lot over the years. But he had not. He was still the same steady, dependable if slightly incorrigible, self. His cleanly-shaven head bobbed again, and then he was asleep, snoring quietly. Thank god this is a private box, she thought.

An usher appeared at the door, asked her for her name, and then handed her a datapad. She looked at him quizzically, but he just shrugged. Taking it in her hand, she stood and moved to the corner of the box so that the other opera patrons would not be bothered by the bright screen. On it was a message to her: "LARGE SCALE ATTACK ON TARSONIS IMMINENT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ADM. MARÍN AND LT. GEN. VERMAAK OF CORE FLEET RENDEZVOUS IMMEDIATELY WITH FLEET ADM. AUGUSTIN OF EDGE FLEET AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS." For a few seconds, Marín stood there, stunned. She refreshed the datapad, making sure she hadn't misread it or that it was a mistake. She walked to Vermaak and shook him awake. Vermaak turned to her sleepily.

"Oh, was I sleeping?"

"Get up."

"Don't be angry... You know I don't like this. I'm not bothering anyone. We don't have to..."

"No, Wynand. We have to go." She pressed the datapad into his ruddy, calloused hands. He read it dazedly, his grey eyes hardening as he comprehended what it said. Without a word, both of them exited into the atrium of the opera house. Through the atrium's three-story tall windows, Marín watched as a shuttle landed in the abstract sculpture garden outside. The scream of its engines reverberated through the atrium and into the concert hall. Men and women in formal wear began trickling out of the hall, concern registering on their faces as they checked their own electronic devices. Marín picked up her skirt and sprinted down the stairs as the shuttle touched down, her heels loudly clicking on the marble floor. Vermaak was close behind her. It was one of the UPN Uhuru's shuttles. That's our ride.

The glass doors moved aside for them as they exited the garden. They both stood next to the shuttle as it hovered close to the ground, blasting air at both of them. Marín was glad she already had a hold on her skirt, but couldn't control her long, black hair. Vermaak looked nonplussed. Now there's an advantage of being bald. The shuttle door opened, and the navigator yelled at her over the din.

"This shuttle is just for you, Admiral. There's another shuttle from the Liberté circling to pick up Vermaak. Gen. Oyaleni wants to speak with him before the rendezvous."

Marín turned to Vermaak and lightly touched his arm, mouthing a kiss to him. He smiled faintly and nodded to her. She boarded the shuttle and strapped herself in as the hatch closed. It would a dangerous mission—possibly the start of a war. But she felt herself strangely relieved to be alone and away from Vermaak. Maybe they had been spending too much time together.

"We're ten minutes out, ma'am," the pilot said as she settled into a seat in the back.

"Good, because if what my orders said are true, we need to be at the rendezvous now." Wasting no time, the pilot took off; in minutes they were already climbing high above the city.

"Do you know who is attacking?" Marín yelled over the sound of the shuttle's takeoff thrusters.

"No, Admiral. I can turn on the news if you like," the navigator said.

"Whatever they say is probably wrong at this point... I'll wait."

"Yes, ma'am."

Marín watched as Umoja's horizon curved then disappeared through the forward viewport, replaced by the blackness of space. The shuttle turned sharply upwards and to its starboard. The Uhuru gleamed in the distance, parked above Umoja's planetary defense platform. The shuttle's main engines spun up, and it lurched towards the Uhuru. As the Uhuru grew larger, her thoughts turned to who could be attacking Tarsonis. The zerg were the most likely culprit, but Zagara had professed peace so an attack would be out of character. Is it the Kel-Morians making a play for the Terran Republic's territory while it's vulnerable? Nothing quite made sense.

The Uhuru's port hangar yawned before the shuttle as it glided inside and set down. Her XO, Commander Anders Ahlberg, was waiting for her as she stepped off the shuttle. Marín removed her heels as she walked across the flight deck. They were just going to slow her down. Ahlberg matched her stride and handed her a datapad.

"Is this the briefing, Ahlberg?"

"Yes, Admiral,"

"Can you give me the highlights?" Marín said, impatiently thumbing through it.

"Oh, you're not going to believe this. Earth is back."

"What? Earth?"

"A UED fleet dropped out of FTL above Tarsonis... They ordered their surrender, and of course they didn't take that well..."

"I'd imagine not..."

"And so they've started an invasion. They've sicced the zerg on them—and the infested."

"Infested? How?"

"Vice Admiral Stukov? Ring any bells? UED guy... He's been hiding out here since their first invasion. Never heard of him, but they've got a dossier on him in there. Hadn't had a chance to look at it."

"All right. Thanks... I'm going to the bridge, but I need you here. I want all of our banshees, liberators, dropships—everything—ready by the rendezvous. Tell the bridge I'm on the way up."

"Yes, ma'am!" Ahlberg turned on his heel and jogged back inside the hangar. It would be quite a job for him and take time. Marín commanded fifty ships in the core side fleet which protected the Umojan Protectorate's territory towards the galactic core. There were twice as many marine detachments. She hoped that Vermaak had radioed ahead to them. Marín continued towards the door. As it door opened, her chief engineer, Dani Jansa, stepped through. As usual, her coveralls and elaborate blonde braids were coated in grime.

"Lookin' good, Admiral," she said playfully.

"And you look like you got dragged behind a dropship."

"That's pretty much what happened!" Both of them continued on, their jobs elsewhere. Hopefully they could sit down to a drink at some point, as they both kept swearing they were going to do. Camaraderie among her crew was important, but she had been setting a bad example as of late. It was something she needed to amend. But that's not happening soon. As the lift rose towards the bridge, Marín read through the reports. Most of it seemed like standard UED tactics if on an immense scale. But the infested attack was worrisome. She thumbed through to the dossier on Stukov as the door opened onto the bridge.

"Admiral on the bridge," Lieutenant Commander Achille Barre said as she exited the lift. She waved her hand at him, dismissing his formality.

"No time for that, Barre. We're en route?"

"Engaging FTL now."

"Good. Barre, put me on speaker—don't do the visual feed though... I'd rather the whole ship not see me in this dress..."

"Feed is live."

"Everyone. As you've heard from news reports, Tarsonis is under attack and this is not a drill. What you haven't heard is that an old threat has returned to the Koprulu sector—the United Earth Directorate. In accordance with our recent treaty with the new Terran Republic, we are obliged to render whatever aid and defense we can. The core fleet will be joining the edge side fleet at the Tyrador system. From there, we will coordinate with Terran Republic forces and receive our orders. I'll keep everyone posted. We've trained for this, people. Let's go keep our sector safe."

Marín motioned Barre to cut the comm. He gave Marín a "so-so" hand gesture. "I'd give that about a five on the pep talk scale. Needs more bullshit."

"If the only criticism is 'needs more bullshit,' I'll take it," Marín said, walking towards her office just off the bridge. "I'm going to finish this briefing. If anyone calls, I'll take it in my office." Barre gave her a thumbs up.

Inside her office, Marín put her shoes under her desk and sat down to finish reading. Terran Republic ghosts on the ground had sent back troubling images and reports. Massive Earth-built carriers supporting space-to-ground aircraft and battlecruisers had overwhelmed the system and locked down Tarsonis. Several command centers had been constructed, cementing their foothold on the planet and cutting Tarsonis City off from aid. And the zerg are attacking—and the infested. What a nightmare. She began reading the dossier attached to the briefing. As someone who had fought in the End War and had defended Umojan territory against the UED when they first arrived, she knew his name and remembered watching his funeral when the UED broadcast it via comm buoy. The dossier cited his participation in the End War and listed him as "infested," but that moniker didn't make sense to her. The infested are mindless zombies. How could any of them be in "control" of the others? And if he participated in the End War with the Dominion, why is he not on our side now? Is he even sentient or rational? The damage and casualty reports were horrific. Infestations were destroying buildings. Soldiers were falling only to rise again as the infested to fight for the UED. Most distressingly, the Umojan fleet was only a fraction of the size of the incoming UED armada and the Terran Republic had been caught with its pants down. They had suffered heavy losses in the End War and against the Queen of Blades; their forces had never been fully rebuilt. Also, Raynor was MIA and Horner was busy trying to hold the new Terran Republic together while also commanding the Republic's military. The new Republic was not in any state to repel an invasion.

Barre stuck his head into Marín's office. "We're at the rendezvous." Marín gathered her dress and returned to the bridge.

"Hail the Vrede." The Vrede responded immediately, the chrubic face of Fleet Admiral Augustin appearing on the screen.

"Renata! Good. Get over here. We have a lot to discuss. Where is the Liberté? I need to speak to Oyaleni and Vermaak as well."

"He left just after I did. I'm sure they'll be here soon."

"Okay," he said dubiously, "but this is a horrible time to keep us waiting. We need to proceed with the utmost care and alacrity. See you momentarily. Oh, and... Nice dress. Shame about the opera... Ta ta! Augustin out."

"Message the flight deck, Barre. Get me a shuttle ready."

"Don't you want to change?" Marín was already in the elevator.

"No time!"

Marín boarded the shuttle and made her way to the Vrede. When she arrived on the bridge, Augustin and Valerian Mengsk were already discussing their plans for repelling the invaders. Marín was somewhat taken aback that Valerian was there—and in all his princely finery. She, like most Umojans, had a distrust of the entire Mengsk clan despite their government's original backing of them. They had been burned by it, and despite Valerian being originally an Umojan citizen, they did not hesitate to effectively end Valerian's reign by releasing further documents about Moebius's experiments. They were relieved that the Mengsk dynasty would not continue. But now he was here. Marín could not help but think that this would end up being a renewed bid for control.

"...And the Republic and Moebius fleets will remain under my command until—or if—Horner rejoins the fleet."

"Where's Admiral Horner?" Marín said, eyeing Valerian. Augustin rounded on her.

"Ah, yes. Adm. Marín, I'm sure you know Valerian Mengsk?"

"Yes... Of course," she said. Valerian extended his hand to her. She took it cautiously.

"Pleasure to meet you, Admiral. I hope you don't mind if I reviewed your personnel file on the way here... Your record is quite impressive."

"Thanks, I don't mind... After all, your 'record' is pretty public,'" Augustin coughed to stifle a laugh and Valerian frowned slightly at the comment but regained his composure.

"You look... as if you were interrupted?" Valerian said, eyeing her dress.

"I was at the opera..."

"Ah yes, Il Nozze de Figaro was playing, wasn't it?"

"Yes, yes it was."

"Shame. They perform it so seldom... The Pasteur Opera House has one of the best companies I've had the pleasure to listen to... Though I might be partial to it... My family donated a great deal to the building's construction... There is a focus on culture there that is not present on Korhal or Tarsonis... We'll have to chat about opera later, if you're a fan."

"Sure... Once all this is over, perhaps..." Marín said, unconvincingly. Valerian, to her, had always been a man of contradictions, but that he enjoyed opera puzzled her. Opera normally dealt with epic themes and abstract concepts like freedom and loyalty and what happens when power is abused. It seemed strange to her that he would enjoy it without seemingly internalizing any of its messages.

"Valerian is here because Horner is trapped in Tarsonis City," Augustin said, quickly changing the subject, "For now, he's currently in charge of the Moebius and Republic fleets, but we're working on a plan for Horner's extraction—along with as many civilians as we can evacuate."

"What is our plan of attack?"

"There isn't one," Valerian said softly, "We're greatly outmatched. Our position will be defensive. We want to get as many people out and hold the UED off until they escape."

"We're just going to let Tarsonis fall?" Marín said incredulously.

"There's no other choice, Adm. Marín," Valerian said, "But we do have a defensive plan."

"Which we'll discuss when Gen. Oyaleni and Lt. Gen Vermaak finally arrive..." Marín nodded, her eyes drifting towards the holographic table in the middle of the bridge which depicted the UED's troop movements in real-time three dimensionally above it. She walked to it, and then used her hands to manipulate the display and zoom in on the planet's surface. There, she watched a flurry of red dots—the infested—flooding the streets. But there was something odd about it—something that bothered her.

"His involvement surprises me," Valerian said, walking quietly towards her, his cape flowing behind him. Who wears a cape? Marín thought.

"Whose?"

"Vice Adm. Stukov. Raynor thought highly of him... Or at least had a begrudging respect."

"But he's zerg... And UED. Doesn't sound that surprising to me."

"No, I suppose not... His alliance may have only been to Kerrigan. Without her in play, his loyalty may have defaulted to the UED. This is unfortunate... He is resourceful and... hard to predict. His assistance of the UED is already evident... The UED knows more than they should about the landscape of the city—and its weaknesses."

"So wait, I thought he was infested? Aren't the infested mindless zombies? You're talking about him like he's still a man."

"Stukov... Is a special case. He's... not going to be easy to push back..."

"Yes," Augustin broke in, "and we've been discussing who would be best suited to do that. Renata, I think that person is you."

"Wherever you think I would best serve," she said absently, still looking at the holographic map.

"That's my girl," Augustin said jovially. "Stukov is attacking the heart of the city, limiting our access to a building where Horner is pinned down. There is an underground bunker and an access tunnel that leads to a nearby police headquarters—with a helipad. If you and Vermaak can push Stukov back and deal with the infestation, we should be able to get everyone in there out. The core fleet will be our shield, deflecting attacks from the evac and blocking ships from entering Tarsonis's atmosphere over Tarsonis City."

"My fleets and the edge fleet will try to take out as much of the UED fleet as we can before we have to retreat," Valerian said. Marín nodded. It was what she expected, she supposed, but the doomed defense of Tarsonis agitated her. She did not like going into a fight she knew she could not win. All they could do was mitigate the damage. Still, maybe there was something she could do without obeying orders. She studied the map again. Maybe... If I could neutralize this "Stukov" and take him out as a random element... It wasn't what she had been directed to do, but she decided if she had the opportunity to kill or capture him, she would take it.

Vermaak and Oyaleni finally arrived. "So good of you to join us," Augustin said sarcastically. Marín looked at him. He had changed, maybe even showered. Oyaleni looked somewhat pissed off like she had been kept waiting. So that's what took so long, Marín thought. "Gen. Jane Oyaleni, Lt. Gen. Vermaak, this is Valerian Mengsk..."

"Mengsk," Oyaleni said, barely acknowledging him.

"I know who he is," Vermaak said curtly.

"Vermaak and Oyaleni will be assisting us in deflecting attention away from the evacuation and defending us on the ground."

"Just tell us who to shoot," Vermaak said.

"Charming," Valerian said with a tight-lipped smile.

"Like I was telling Marín just now, Moebius, the Republic, and the edge side fleet will engage the UED. The core fleet will protect the evac and Tarsonis City while pushing Stukov's forces back away from Horner's position with Vermaak's marines. Oyaleni will deal with the larger threat of UED forces on the ground... Is that clear?"

"Simple enough," Oyaleni said.

"Good. We've wasted enough time. Vermaak, Marín, you're Dismissed. General Oyaleni, may I speak with you further?" Oyaleni, a woman of few words, crossed her broad arms and stood near Augustin, tapping her dark fingers on her sleeves as she eyed Valerian. No Umojan trusts Valerian, Marín thought.

Marín and Vermaak boarded the lift from the bridge to make their way back to the hangar. As soon as the doors closed, Vermaak looked Marín up and down.

"What are you still doing in that dress?" Vermaak said. Marín turned to him, annoyed.

"What are you doing showing up thirty minutes after everyone else?"

"Didn't want to look like a twit in a suit."

"One, Valerian always wears a cape. You wouldn't have been the only 'twit' in the room. Two, are you calling me a twit?"

"You look a bit crazy, yeah."

"I look like I care, Wynand."

"Fine," Vermaak said, sighing. "I knew if I showed up dressed like I was, Augustin would put two and two together about us."

"You don't think that he has? It's been three years and we've known each since the academy. And the they didn't bother giving us separate orders because they knew we'd be together."

"It looks unprofessional."

"I know you want succeed Oyaleni..."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't care if you do, Wynand, but I don't know what about our relationship would keep you from it." Except that she did. She had a reputation, and it was not necessarily a good one. Of the two of them, despite his vulture-riding swagger, she was the more controversial. Marín was considered by some to be too eager and maybe a bit too clever for her own good. People talked about her. Some respected her, others didn't; their feelings were either hot or cold. It was not that way for Vermaak. Most people had no opinion or not much of one. He was good at gliding just under the radar and not upsetting anyone. If it was widely known that they were partners, his reputation might be slightly sullied. But it wouldn't matter that much.

As the two of them boarded the shuttle back to Uhuru, their conversation turned to more pressing matters: the coordination of Horner's evac and how to deal with the infested horde.

"The infested... Don't have much experience with them," Vermaak said gruffly. He rubbed his hands together slowly, lost in thought.

"No, we don't... Occasionally we'd see them, but we'd stay the hell away. Nuke 'n go if we could."

"Can't do that here."

"We can keep them at arm's length though... Siege tanks?" Vermaak considered this with his usual careful slowness.

"Yep. Keep the line from getting too close."

"Banshees too. From what I saw, Stukov has sacrificed air for ground speed."

"May not be a choice. Are there any starports nearby?"

"That's a thought. No one to infest. He could build spires, but the city may be too densely packed to raise them.

"Right."

"You know, your usual cautiousness is going to come in very handy right now." Marín knew she had said something wrong when Vermaak's eyes narrowed at her and his brow knitted together.

"My what?" He absently put his hand on his thigh, on the edge of where she knew his bionic prosthesis began under his fatigues.

"I mean in comparison to me... You know how I am. Pushing back slowly—that's the only way. Losing troops to the infested will just feed Stukov's war machine." Vermaak nodded in agreement, his anger diffused momentarily, but then he turned to her again, suspicious.

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"What? No."

"I can tell... You're going to do something stupid. What is it?"

"It's not stupid..."

"Renata..."

Marín sighed. "Stukov needs to be taken out. If I see a chance, I'm going to take it."

"How do you think you're going to find him? How do you think you're going to kill him?"

"I'll... Figure that out later. Like I said, if I get the chance."

"Don't get yourself hurt... or killed..."

"I haven't yet..."

"Not all of us have been so lucky..." He rapped on his leg, making a hollow, metallic sound. "This could have been much worse."

"I know, I'm sorry..."

"Sorry? It's not your fault. Just... be careful. Don't do something brash."

"I... I won't."

The shuttle landed softly in the Uhuru's hangar and the shuttle's door opened. Vermaak stood, taking her by both hands.

"I hope you mean that."

He leaned down and kissed her.

"See you later, eh?"

"Yeah, I'll send Oyaleni my notes. Be careful."

"I always am. That's double for you."

Vermaak disappeared out of the shuttle and into the hangar bay. She could already hear the doppler effect of his booming voice as he barked orders to his marines while he marched deeper into the hangar. Marín got up and made her way to the bridge and into her office. At her desk, she drafted her orders but stopped, looking again at Stukov's troop movements one more time. There was something odd about them, something she couldn't put her finger on. She keyed up Republic archive battle footage of Stukov from during the UED invasion. It was the first time she'd had the occasion to use it since the treaty. What she saw there did not match what was happening now in the city of Tarsonis. If anything, Stukov had always been very aggressive, arrogant even, and had intricate strategies meant to confuse his enemies. Here, he kept the line and advanced incrementally, attacking only in defense. She had no idea what that meant.

In any case, she had a plan. She would recommend what she and Vermaak discussed to Oyaleni: no ground troops except siege tanks and, she added, firebats. The siege tanks to push back the infested, and the firebats to clear the infestation. They would have to keep from losing their own troops and rely heavily on her for air support. She would assign as many liberators and banshees as she could spare. But, the sheer number of troops Stukov had been able to raise would be hard to churn through. Secretly though, she thought they could rout him—if she could figure out where his command center was. Over eager... Sticking my neck out again, she thought. But we'd all be safer if he was gone.

She drafted the battle plan on a map and sent it with annotations to her captains and Oyaleni. And now all she had left to do was address the fleet again. She stepped back onto the bridge. "Open a channel, Barre."

"Aye, ma'am." A chime let Marín know she was on air.

"Good evening... Or morning depending on where you've come from in the sector... I wish I had better news to tell everyone, but with the zerg and UED fleet attacking Tarsonis now, when it is most vulnerable after years of war, there is no hope that we will 'win' this battle. What we must focus on is protecting the citizens of the Terran Republic in their evacuation from Tarsonis. Aside from that mission is another important one—to help the Terran Republic in its rescue of its current leader, Adm. Matthew Horner. In doing so, we will go up against the zerg and the infested under the command of Vice Adm. Alexei Stukov, an infested human and UED military leader. This will necessarily be a mission that we will have to undertake very carefully. Your orders are being sent now. Keep abreast of them and keep your eyes open. We need to do as much damage as we can to the UED fleet while we are here, but stay focused and don't take any unnecessary risks. See you all on the flip side. Good luck."

This was the part that always filled Marín with guilt: giving orders that meant someone was not coming back. Protocol stated that she should not leave the Uhuru and lead from afar, but she found that unconscionable.

"Put me through to Dani, Barre." Barre patched her though.

"Hey Dani, is my wraith ready?

"Ready and waiting, boss lady."

"Be there in five."

When Mitchell reached the hangar, the deck shook beneath her feet. Banshees, liberators, and medivac shuttles were all waiting to launch, their engines on, roaring with noise and shimmering with heat. A warning klaxon sounded as the hangar launch port shield snapped on and the hangar's immense door began to open. Her wraith was waiting for her on the only wraith launch rack still in use on the Uhuru. Unlike the other vessels, the wraith, unable to stand on its own, had to be catapulted out of the hangar on a jet-powered rack. Marín pulled herself into the cockpit, lowered the cockpit canopy and put on her helmet and breathing apparatus. The canopy sealed shut, dampening the noise of the hangar, but she could still feel the vibrations of the ships on deck through the seat. The hangar bay door was fully open now, and aircraft were launching in groups out into the void of space. She engaged the rack; it lurched the craft forward, putting her in line with everyone else. A few minutes later, it was finally her turn.

"Hit me, chief."

"Aw, yeah."

She felt the jet on the back of the launch rack ignite. The rack sped forward, throwing her wraith out of the hangar. Suddenly, all was quiet as the vacuum enveloped her. Below, she could see the bluish glow of Tarsonis and in the distance the UED fleet. She engaged her cloak, and above her a squadron of banshees did the same. Behind them, the Uhuru, four squadrons of banshees, a squadron of liberators, and what battlecruisers could be spared to attack Stukov, began turning planetside.

"Squadron leader Gavran, this is Marín. I'm here as an extra pair of eyes. Support our firebats and siege tanks. Keep the infested at bay and push them back so our battlecruisers and medivac units can assist with evac."

"Roger, Admiral. Good to know we've got you over our shoulder."

The squadron moved past her and down. She went in the same direction but skimmed the upper atmosphere, keeping the battlefield below her. She wanted to get a peek behind enemy lines. The ground moved swiftly by as the city thinned to suburbs and then to an industrial area.

She called Vermaak to assess his progress.

"Wynand, how's it look?"

"We're pushing back. Progress is slow but looks like we can get a bird in for Horner in about thirty minutes."

"You hear that, Gavran?"

"Yep, we'll be waiting to escort."

She flew quickly over a large train depot and trainyard full of empty train cars. Something caught her eye. She turned around quickly—and immediately she wished she hadn't. A massive horde of infested sat waiting, stuffed in train cars and obscured by a train depot. They were just kilometers from the city. What is he waiting for?

Marín hailed Valerian.

"Valerian, this is Marín. We have a window in thirty minutes to get Horner out, but I've got eyes on a phalanx of infested hiding in a train depot outside the city. Radio Vermaak." She didn't want Vermaak to know she was out in her wraith, "I think a massive push is imminent."

"Can we stop it?"

"No, but I don't know why he hasn't attacked yet... He's just... waiting. Does he know Horner's there?"

"I don't know. Possibly."

"Even so, I think he would have flattened the place by now. I'm going fly in and investigate."

"Wait, you're in play?"

"Nice chat, Valerian. I'll see you at the debrief later." She cut the comm, not wanting what would inevitably have been a lecture.

In the distance, Marín spotted a spire. Mutalisks stood by it, obviously on stand-by. An overlord lumbered into view; she gave it a wide berth. Everything was ready, but everything was waiting. What is he doing? It was then she saw it: a battlecruiser—or what was left of one—lurking in low orbit, flying just low enough to confuse the fleet's scanners. The charge on her wraith's cloaking device was low, but she thought she could make it in for a closer look. She burned towards the battlecruiser. Studying it, she could plainly see it was one of the old model UED battlecruisers, dark and brutal in its design. He's in there, she thought, watching.

Marín's cloak began to break up. She flew higher into space and away from the infested battlecruiser and the UED fleet to seek shelter behind the Umojan line. Around her, a battle between the UED fleet and Augustin's forces raged. Marín was in no position to join in the fray. She cut her engines and drifted, taking cover in the debris of the fight and letting her cloak recharge. As she observed the skirmish, the UED fleet appeared so large that it almost blotted out the light of the Tarsonis system's star. Her ship turned, listing in space. Below her, she saw Stukov's battlecruiser begin to move away from the city and behind his line. As her cloak finished recharging, she fired up her engines and reengaged it, steering her ship back down and towards him. She opened her comm and turned the band to a universal frequency.

"To anyone on this frequency, this is Adm. Marín of the Umojan fleet. I've found Stukov. I'm radioing rendezvous coordinates now. Anyone with air-to-air that can break off from the main battle—Republic, Moebius, or Umojan—please converge on those coordinates. We're going to end at least part of this conflict." There was a clamber of replies on the open channel. From what she could tell, around eight liberators—five Umojan, three from the Republic—that would be joining her. The Moebius fleet remained slient. Figures. They must only kowtow to Valerian. She changed her comm frequency to that of the Republic fleet.

"Is Horner out?"

"Transport just lifted off. He should be back on the Hyperion in five," the Bucephalus's comm officer said.

"Good to hear."

Below her as she passed the edge of the city, she saw the earth heave beneath her. To her horror, two massive utralisks—larger than any she had seen before and armored—burst from the ground.

"What the fuck?" she inadvertently yelled into the comm.

"Ma'am?" The comm officer replied, shaken.

"Ultralisks inbound on the city. Our line..." she cut the comm and whipped her wraith around and flew towards the train depot. The infested were streaming out of it. A flock of mutalisks screamed by her, almost ramming her. She changed back to the universal comm frequency.

"Infested, ultralisks, and air units are mobilizing. All ground troops be on alert! This is the real attack, everyone. Vermaak?"

"We're moving out," Vermaak said hurriedly, forgetting to turn off his comm. In the background, she could hear him screaming orders to his marines in his husky voice.

"Evac isn't finished. What should we do?" Capt. Gavran cut in.

"You've done what you can! Get the hell out of there!"

Marín sped up, gunning towards the rendezvous. Now that she had seen how powerful Stukov could potentially be, it was even more imperative that they put him down. Something still nagged at her. It seemed to her that he had waited until Horner was out and until the bulk of the civilians had been evacuated. His movements made no sense, she reasoned, unless he was consciously trying to avoid civilian casualties and was allowing Horner to escape. There may have still been some underlying loyalty left, or there may have been unforeseen variables in play. Despite that, taking him out was still a benefit. To Marín, letting him live was not an option.

The squad of liberators joined her.

"Aw yeah, let's kick that zerg motherfucker right in the cu-." a Republic captain began.

"Uhhh, you realize that Admiral Marín is on this frequency..." one of the Umojan captains said, speaking over him.

"Uh, nope. No, I did not. Sorry ma'am."

"I've heard worse. Let's get to it." The liberators surged forward, swooping in to follow the infested battlecruiser, but Stukov saw them, and the battlecruiser began rising in the atmosphere to leave orbit. Running back to the fleet, Marín thought. One of the liberators came within firing range, but before it could get a bead on him, a tendril snaked out of the battlecruiser and lanced through both of the liberator's engines. The tendril flicked the liberator into space where it cartwheeled away from Tarsonis's gravity well. "Sit tight, Captain. I'm ordering you a medivac. Use your thrusters to stabilize your pitch..." Marín called in a medivac, and the remaining liberators, led by Marín, continued their pursuit of Stukov. "Get in close around him but stay out of range of those... tentacles. Head him off. We can't let him jump to FTL." Suddenly, the battlecruiser fell several thousand feet and flew right under them, burning some of the infestation off of its hull in the process. He rose again and veered away from the UED fleet. "Follow him!" Marín and the liberators gave chase. The liberators, quicker in atmospheric conditions, easily outpaced Stukov, who had still managed put the planet between him and the UED fleet. They stopped in front of him, turning to face him. Marín followed behind the battlecruiser, still cloaked but cutting off his escape.

The battlecruiser came to a stop. For a breathless moment, the liberators stared him down. Slowly, the battlecruiser came about to face Marín's cloaked ship. She thought for a moment Stukov would make another run into the atmosphere, but his battlecruiser stayed stationery save the long zerg tentacles waving beneath it. What is he doing? Does he...

"Time to give him what's coming to him... Permission to fire, Admiral?"

"Negative, Capt. Baker."

"What?" one of the Republic liberator captains broke in again, "The dude just pulled his pants down and showed us his ass. Let's lube him up and fuck 'em then put him to bed."

"Vasiliy, goddamn it," one of the other Republic liberator pilots said quietly into the comm. Ignoring them, Marín dropped her cloak and nudged her thruster forward towards Stukov's battlecruiser. A din of shocked exclamations erupted over the comm, telling her not to get any closer.

"He's been able to see me the whole time. Calm down." She changed her comm's band and broadcast a ship-to-ship automated call, introducing herself, her rank, and her command. Moments went by, and she received a message on the same frequency—but text only. The message read, "Urgent meeting requested. Meet in 3 hrs at the coordinates encrypted in this message. Come alone and unarmed." Stukov's ship began moving again, turning towards the liberators. Distortion, caused by the battlecruiser's FTL drive, made the space around it seem to bulge and bend.

"He's firing up his FTL..." Capt. Baker said over the comm.

"Get out of the way. Let him go."

"What?" Vasiliy said incredulously.

"You heard me." The liberators reluctantly moved away from the battlecruiser, and it jumped away to FTL.

Augustin called Marín. "Adm. Marín. I was given word that you had cornered Stukov. Have you been able to neutralize him?"

"No, sir... But I've made contact."

"Contact?"

"I'll explain later. We're done here."

"Then for heaven's sake, get back to the Uhuru. We're overwhelmed as it is and we need to fall back."

"Yes, sir."

Just what have I gotten myself into...

#alexei stukov #stukov #starcraft #starcraft 2 #starcraft ii #brood war #matt horner #valerian mengsk #valerian #fanfiction #fanfic #no omen no country's cause

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blizzweirdo · 6 years ago

Text

No Omen, No Country’s Cause Ch. 7

Hey everyone, this chapter is a somewhat short transitional chapter. It is the first chapter to have multiple points of view, and is really more like three chapters in one--the first from Stukov’s POV, the second from Dauphin and the UED, the third from Marín in the Umojan Navy, and then back to Stukov. Sorry it’s a little late; I decided to add two of the parts kind of on the fly, so hopefully it’s not disjointed. As usual, this chapter will appear on Fanfiction.net, Archive of Our Own, and Wattpad.

Stukov looked out on the UED fleet from the observation deck of the Aleksander. If he could ignore the infestation around him and the enormity of the Destroyer Fleet, he could almost believe it was 2500 again and he was looking out at his own fleet, just arrived from the Sol sector. In the silence, he imagined Gerard standing behind him somewhere in the shadows. In the distance, he saw the Kuznetsov move to the center of the fleet away from its position behind the front lines. Now that the fight for Tarsonis was over, it could fully rejoin the fleet. He was glad to see it unharmed; with his son onboard, he could reasonably believe he was safe, but he had no idea how he was being treated. He wouldn’t know unless he could see him and speak to him, but even then they would be smart enough to hurt him in ways that did not show, saving any permanent injury to him for when his father got out of line. The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he knew they would not be foolish enough to let him die.

The Aleksander’s adjutant chimed discordantly, alerting Stukov it was about to speak.

“Admiral Stukov,” it said, its voice slow with the declining health of the ship’s systems and muffled by infestation, “Admiral Reeves of the Kuznetsov wishes to speak with you.” Stukov hesitated. He felt a moment of paranoia. Had Reeves perceived that he had been holding back? Had someone seen and reported his interactions with the Umojan and Republic vessels and reported it as suspicious? Most likely he just wanted to debrief him, but the memory of Reeves holding a gun to his son’s head haunted him.

Stukov climed the few steps to the upper level of the observation deck to its comm console.

“Patch him through, Adjutant.”

As the comm clicked on, he was immediately met with sounds of celebration: cheering, clapping, and the popping of champagne corks. Reeves appeared on the screen standing in the hangar bay. Behind him, a huge party was taking place. His self-satisfied smile made him want to wrap his fist around his neck and squeeze until his head popped off. He swallowed his anger.

“Admiral Reeves, how good of you to call,” he said flatly.

“Stukov... I have to say congratulations are in order. You managed to totally annihilate the Republic and Umojan forces without causing significant civilian casualties. That will make our occupation of Tarsonis easier... and make for some great PR reels for the sector and back home.”

“Propaganda was not my motive, Admiral... but I’m glad to serve the UED again...” He said cautiously.

“Good. Then once we have commandeered Tarsonis’s supply chain and industry, we will need to push on—and quickly. When will you meet with... this Tal’Darim... Alarak? Is that his name?”

“Yes, Alarak. I will meet with him in seventy-two hours.”

“That’s a bit far out, don’t you think?”

“It is what he could manage.”

“Very well. When you speak to him, let me know. Good day.”

“Wait.”

“I want to see my son.”

“Why?”

“I want to see that he hasn’t been harmed.”

“You can see him,” Reeves said, his genteel demeanor dropping, “when you’ve convinced Alarak to join the fleet. So don’t fuck it up, Stukov.” Reeves abruptly closed the comm channel. Stukov pounded his fist on the comm console, seething in frustration. Reeves would use his son to torment him at every opportunity. But he didn’t have time to worry about that now. He had to assume his son was alive and well. With his meeting with an Umojan or Republic fleet representative mere hours away, he was on a tight schedule. If his allies in the Koprulu sector did not assist him or if Alarak refused his offer, his son would be in grave danger. But I will take him back... and if I get the chance, I’ll kill Reeves the same way he threatened to kill Gregory.

But there was no time to indulge his violent fantasy. He had a meeting to attend.

* * *

“You did what?” Vermaak shouted. Marín flinched, unused to his anger in front of their superiors. Marín had just finished reporting on her pursuit of Stukov to Horner, Valerian, Augustin, Oyaleni, and Vermaak on the Vrede. She told them about his message and why she had ultimately let him go instead of neutralizing him. But she knew that most of it didn’t matter to Vermaak—he didn’t care that she went after Stukov or why she did, why she let him go, or what he said to her. What mattered to him was that she had put herself in harm's way when she had expressly told him she would not. Augustin sensed that something was wrong and put himself between them.

“I don’t believe Admiral Marín needs to repeat herself, Vermaak. Did Stukov give any indication as to why he wanted to meet, Marín?”

“No, but during the battle he seemed to be avoiding attacking evacuees and the building where Horner had been trapped... It may be that he wants to give us intel...”

“Or pull one of our leaders into a trap. He probably thinks Horner or Valerian will come to meet him,” Oyaleni said.

“You shouldn‘t have been there, and you should have shot him down,” Vermaak said angrily.

Marín expected as much from Oyaleni. Being suspicious and considering all the ways a situation could go awry was her job as a general and the leader of the marines in both fleets. But Vermaak’s reaction was uncalled for.

Valerian raised his hand in a gesture of calm and began to speak. “I... have to say that I agree with Oyaleni and Vermaak. We fought alongside him once, but... more recent events may have turned him against us.”

“Such as?” Augustin said. Valerian did not elaborate, color rising in his cheeks. Horner spoke for him.

“It got buried in the report the Umojans released a few years ago, but Valerian’s partially responsible for his imprisonment and the uh... experiments that were... not consensually performed on him by Moebius...”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Marín said, speaking out of turn and rubbing both hands down her tired face. “You tortured this guy? Great. That’s just... Yeah, I think that does add something of a complication to our interaction with him.”

“But if he’s reaching out, there has to be something else going on,” Horner walked to the war table in the middle of the bridge. “Do you have recordings of the battle?”

“Yes,” Augustin said, joining him. With a few taps he brought them up. A holographic image of Tarsonis appeared above the table with red markers denoting the UED and Stukov and green, yellow, and the teal of the Umojan navy denoting their fleet and troop movements. Horner manipulated the image with a wave of his hand, zooming in on Tarsonis City and the Umojan line against Stukov. Valerian stood behind him as Horner watched Stukov’s units crawl through the streets of Tarsonis City. Augustin watched as well from the other side. Valerian pointed at the map, saying something only Horner could hear.

“His movements are... slow,” Augustin said.

“That’s... uncharacteristic,” Horner said. “He’s normally quick to strike and with the infested he tends to try to overwhelm his foes quickly in an initial push to hide a more complicated late-battle strategy. Here, he was controlled at first and waited to engage us. I think that Marín is right. He was holding back; he must have known I was in there.”

“But how would he have?” Vermaak said.

“Well, he is human. The last time I spoke to him he was pretty up on current events. I was slated to be on a widely broadcast debate. The time and place of broadcast had been announced way ahead of time.” Marín imagined the human man she had seen in pictures, sitting in an office like hers. His feet were up on the desk and he popped open a beer as he watched the news projected above the desk. A zergling snoozed idly on the floor below him. She tried not to laugh and realized how tired she had to be to think that was funny. It had been a long day, and now the dress she kept forgetting she was wearing was beginning to rub her in places it had not before.

“You’d think the UED would have caught on to that as well,” Augustin said.

“Not necessarily. The timing of their arrival may have kept them from hearing about it.”

“Right, so let me get this straight,” Oyaleni said, clearly getting annoyed. “what we have here is a dangerous, UED, zerg man who was Kerrigan’s ally for a time and your ally for all of five seconds and who might still be friendly to Horner but is definitely going to be right pissed about Valerian and who doesn’t give a shit about Umoja but he just asked us to send someone—unarmed—to a horrid backwater planet that can only be traversed in a CMC or vehicle because of its turbulent atmosphere and plasma storms and we’re still debating sending someone?”

“If he can do for us what he did to Tarsonis, yeah we are,” Marín said. Oyaleni rolled her eyes at her.

“Well, I’m not crazy enough for that,”

“I’ll do it,” Horner said, “He knows me.”

“Absolutely not,” Augustin said quickly, “You’re the leader of the Republic in exile. If Stukov turned on you, it would be a checkmate.”

“And you’re the leader of the Umojan fleet, and it’s highly probable that he would kill me on sight. Marín in the right choice here; he spoke to her, and she should go,” Valerian said.

“And I’m willing to go...”

“No, it should be me, but I'm taking a sidearm,” Vermaak said darkly.

“And that’s why you’re not going, Wynand,” Augustin said, “We’ve wasted a lot of time arguing about this... Marín, can you still make the rendezvous?”

“If I leave now.”

“Then go... Find out what he wants, and get back here. Wear a transponder and for heaven’s sake, be careful this time.”

And there’s still no time to get out of this damn dress.

* * *

The after-victory party on the Kuznetsov had been one hell of a celebration. After half a bottle of champagne, Dauphin had lost her cap and KD in the hangar bay. The carousing around her seemed to be happening in slow motion—and someone was pouring more champagne in her glass. There was shouting and loud music; she was thankful that the first of her senses to go when she was drunk was her hearing. Dauphin saw Reeves at the far end of the hangar speaking into the comm unit. The screen was mostly dark, but she recognized the unmistakable glow of Adm. Stukov’s amber-colored eyes. Thinking back to her encounter with him gave her chills. She had seen what he could do to the fleet, and she had seen from the air what he could do on the ground. He frightened her, but how he had treated her and what she had seen on his ship made her pity him—and his son.

Reeves abruptly ended his call and moved away from the console towards her. She turned around so that he wouldn’t see her face. He walked past without noticing her. Only a few hours earlier, she had stood nearly in the same spot watching him put a gun to a man’s head and threaten his life. She would never see Reeves in the same way again. Dauphin thought about Gregory. He was most likely still in the brig alone, not privy to any of the celebrating around him. He also probably had no idea that his father was a large part of their victory. She suddenly didn’t feel much like celebrating.

Walking down the hallway to her quarters, she had to dodge people who were much drunker than she was. Once inside, she realized she was not alone. KD was hanging half on and half off her upper bunk, her arm dangling limply off. Below her was a half-empty bottle of vodka whose contents and splashed all over the floor. She recognized the bottle from Stukov’s stash from the Aleksander. They had to bribe a flight deck technician to get it back after they had abandoned it in the hangar bay. KD had wanted to leave it, but she felt like she owed it to Greg to keep it for him—especially since everything had gone so awry. Still inebriated, she thought it would be nice if she took some of it to show Greg in the brig. Quietly, she reached under her bunk and dragged the duffel out from under it. The bottles inside clinked softly. KD sat up suddenly in her bunk, her hair askew and her face flushed. A couple of strands of her hair were stuck to her lips.

“Hey! What are you doing with that?”

“I was going to go see Greg.”

“No, don’t take the booze.”

“I’m not taking that. I’m just going to show him his dad’s stuff.”

“Oh.” KD slithered off the top bunk, stumbling in her bare feet as she touched the ground. Tucking in her shirt, she grabbed Dauphin’s champagne and downed it quickly. She smoothed back her hair. “Let’s go then.”

“Uh, I don’t recall inviting you.”

“Whatever. You need me to distract the guard,” KD emptied the duffel bag of liquor except one bottle of vodka. She put two shot glasses in it.

“Why are you bringing that?”

“You’ll see.”

Outside in the hallway, people were still partying, but it had calmed down a little. They made their way to the brig without being noticed. When they reached the brig, KD gave Dauphin the duffel and took out the bottle and two glasses.

“Wait here ten seconds, then walk right into the cell block.”

“Uh, okay?”

The automatic door opened for KD as she walked near it. She hoisted the bottle and the glasses over her head and pranced barefoot inside. A guard was sitting alone at his desk. He looked very bored.

“Hee-e-e-ey, buddy! It’s me! KD! Remember me from basic training? No? Well, I thought I’d bring you a drink!”

The guard stood wide-eyed, surprised by her entrance. The door closed behind her, obscuring Dauphin’s view.

“Um, thanks?”

Dauphin counted out ten seconds and then went inside. KD had sat down next to the guard, forcing him to turn towards her and away from the cell block door. Dauphin walked quickly past them and into the cell block.

The cell block was large and had multiple hallways. The carrier was like a small city and bad things did happen and people needed to be incarcerated. But today, there were only two people other than Greg in the cell block that she could see, and both appeared to be people who had partied a little too hard and were sleeping it off. Greg was on his own at the very end of the cell block. She wasn’t surprised; Reeves had most likely hidden the fact he was here because he didn’t want the fleet to know what was going on. Everyone who knew had to agree to not discuss Stukov with anyone at home and to not talk about him on the ship either. There would be too many questions for the fleet to answer if word got home.

When she found Greg, he was sitting in his cell, his arms folded and his head down, leaning forward on his knees. In the harsh light of his white cell in his white ghost uniform and pale skin, he almost blended into the wall.

“Greg,” she said quietly. Greg looked up at her slowly. His eyes were red and his eyelids swollen.

“Dauphin... What...?”

“I thought... You might want some company... The battle for Tarsonis is over... Everyone’s celebrating.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah... I, uh... That stuff you asked for... I brought it...”

“What stuff?”

“Your dad’s stuff. Thought you might want to see it.” Greg looked away, saddened. Dauphin began pulling some of it the items out. “Look, there’s this neat sword thing, and his dress uniform...” Greg got up and walked to the far end of the cell away from her. “And that ID you gave me... He put a note on it for you... I wish you could read it...”

“Take it away.”

“There’s a photograph...”

“Take it away!”

“What’s wrong?”

Greg ran his hands through his short-cropped hair, still turned away from her. “I want nothing to do with that... monster.”

“You mean your dad or Reeves?”

“That... thing is not my father. My father did not write me a note, he did not let you have that stuff that has been... contaminated by that thing’s infestation... And my father didn’t try to save me. My father is dead. He died on Char. Whatever that creature is, it is not my father. It is the corpse of my father animated by something... foul.” His voice began to crack and the lights in the brig began to flicker in a manner that unsettled Dauphin, “If it were my father, he would rather have slit his throat than be a traitor!” At the end of another hallway, Dauphin heard the shattering of glass. The overall light in the cell block darkened. “Get out, and take that damn bag with you!” Oh shit, he’s telekinetic... and powerful enough to get around his psi dampeners. Dauphin grabbed the bag and ran as glass rained down on her from the ceiling. Dauphin realized both Stukov and Reeves had made a mistake. He may look all of 12, but this kid can take care of himself. And she was even a little frightened of him. Dauphin ran back into the guard’s room, but the room was pitch black. Without waiting for KD, she burst through the door and into the light of the hallway.

* * *

Admiral Marín locked the visor on the helmet of her CMC as she got ready to disembark the shuttle. She had flown herself down not wanting to put anyone else at risk. She opened the hatch and the punishing winds on the planet's surface almost knocked her off her feet. She unsteadily walked in her CMC down the gangway, getting used to the suit's blocky movements. It had been years since she had been in one; everyone had to learn to use one as a cadet, but she was more comfortable flying into battle than walking. After a few steps, she was back into the groove of it, even though the loose top layer of the planet’s soil made her steps slip and the grit singing past her helmet made visibility poor. She turned on her lights, but that only illuminated the air around her like she was in a dense fog. She turned them off completely and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. On her helmet's HUD, a topographical map guided her through the clouded darkness towards the coordinates the infested Terran, Stukov, had given her. Two clicks south, she thought, quickening her pace.

As she neared the coordinates, her radar began to show false positives of life forms above her, behind her, and in front of her. It looked like atmospheric interference, but given what she had learned about Stukov, she was on her guard. But without her weapon, there would be little she could do but run if she encountered a threat here.

Finally, she reached her destination. Sensor ghosts still blipped in and out of existence, but one, fairly close, stayed strong. It was moving slowly towards her, but if it was Stukov he had not tried to communicate. The first she saw of the creature was a burning, orange glow diffusing through the air around it. Was it a hydralisk, she wondered. Had Stukov lured her here just to assassinate her? She turned heel and got ready to run.

The figure stopped, and a low, growling voice somehow cut through the din of the howling wind, "So, I see that you found the courage to meet me." She had never heard his voice before, and was puzzled by his odd way of speaking. "And you are alone, as I instructed. Are you unarmed?"

"Yes," she said, raising her hands, and speaking loudly into her comm. "I gave my word. I would not jeopardize our meeting for my own feelings of safety."

"Good," the voice purred. As the figure moved closer, she realized the glow was psionic, emanating from a pair of baleful-looking eyes—and they were human. The figure of a man—half-zerg, and half-human—appeared from the fog. At his side was a bloated, infested arm as wide as she was. It could easily have palmed her helmet. Dressed all in black, he wore the uniform of their enemy, the UED. Somehow he could walk on the planet’s surface without an atmo suit or CMC. Her hands were shaking in her mechanical gloves and a cold fear gripped her chest.

"Do not be afraid," he said, his lips not moving. Of course he's a teep, she thought, glad that she had not taken Vermaak's recommendation and left with a sidearm. He would have known immediately. "Meeting is the easy part." He moved closer, now only an arms breadth away from her, and stopped. "I am Admiral Alexei Stukov, former second in command of the UED expeditionary fleet."

"Admiral Renata Marín, Umojan Protectorate Navy, commander of the core fleet and second to Fleet Admiral Thierry Augustin..."

"Pleasure to meet you. And now comes the hard part."

Confused, Marín began to respond, but Stukov pulled a metal object from his jacket and took a step towards her. Out of reflex, she reached for her gun—that wasn't there. Stukov activated the device and electricity arced out of it, striking her suit. It was an EMP device. Her HUD exploded in warnings and went silent. The motor in her suit powered down, and her joints froze. The momentum of her movement caused her to fall flat on her back. As she got her bearings, all she could see was the sky. Stukov's face loomed above her, smirking smugly. What happens now? She thought, Did he just bring me here to infest me after all? Stukov chuckled darkly. His hand manually closed her helmet's blast shield, plunging her into darkness.

"Don't worry. It will all be over soon."

#stukov #alexei stukov #starcraft #starcraft 2 #starcraft2 #starcraft ii #valerian mengsk #valerian #matt horner #fanfiction #no omen no country's cause

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blizzweirdo · 6 years ago

Text

No Omen, No Country’s Cause Ch. 9

You’ll LOVE this POV, guys. LOL.

AH HA HA HAH HA HA HA!

And you’ll have to wait for... stuff (no spoilers).

DON’T PUNCH ME.

Also, sorry this is late.

Troy Reeves walked purposefully across the deck of the hangar bay, carefully composing himself. The crew must not see any shred of weakness or a lack of decorum. He straightened his jacket and set his cap. Talking with Stukov disturbed him. He was the last person he had expected to see here, or again, and one of the people he would want to least want to see ever. It had made him perversely happy to see his old rival disfigured and tainted by the race he had closely studied, but disturbing to learn that he now wielded their power. Stopping in the hallway, he pressed the button to call for a lift. Groups of soldiers, captains, and crew walked past him, their loud talking amplified by alcohol. Reeves tipped his hat to them and gave them a grit-teethed smiled. As he got in, a young ensign followed blithely behind him. Once he realized who he had boarded the elevator with, he clearly had tried to turn heel to walk out, but stopped, realizing it was too late. Reeves smiled at him. At least he registers my authority.

“I won’t bite, ensign. What floor do you need?”

“S-seven, sir.”

“Seven? Crew quarters?”

“Yes, sir. Not one for parties, sir.”

“Good boy. Neither am I.”

The ensign stepped off the elevator and Reeves continued to the bridge. When he got there, it was empty; they had celebrated briefly earlier, and he had given them the night off. He walked into his office. All was silent.

Silence. He enjoyed it. Too much of his job was either loud with the sounds of war or with the sounds of mass humanity. Reeves took his meals in his office or in his quarters. With the end of their first battle and after dealing with Stukov, he needed the solitude—and he also needed to compose a message to Henri, his husband. He didn’t want to seem upset, especially when he had good news. He was alive, one, and they had taken Tarsonis. Of course, if Henri registered he was upset, he couldn’t tell him about Stukov—he couldn’t tell anyone. If Stukov’s true fate was widely known, he couldn’t imagine the fear that it would engender that someone as distinguished (it wasn’t the word he wanted to use, but he couldn’t think of another) as Stukov had been overtaken by the zerg. It would demonstrate just how dangerous the zerg were.

He had to stop thinking about it. Reeves sat at his desk and turned on his console, positioning himself in front of the screen so that he was in range of the video feed. But then he saw he already had a message from Henri. There was no way for them to speak in real time. They would be passing each other endlessly for the entirety of the conflict. It would be an ongoing call and response conversation. Henri had gotten the first word in. Reeves opened the message. In the study of their home in Charleston, Henri sat, his arms draped over his cello on a leather chaise lounge. He was wearing the silk shirt Reeves had gifted him for his birthday last year.

“Troy, honey, hello! I hope this gets to you before you get into Tarsonis. If not, well, you know me… Always fashionably late. Sometimes even missing the party!”

Reeves snorted with laughter. He had missed the “party.”

“I don’t know what to say. I miss you? I’m definitely afraid for you, and I pray for you, even though I know it won’t do any good. Since I’m at a loss for words and I’m pretty sure we’re being monitored by whatever censors are on this channel, I thought I’d play you something… Here goes…”

Henri began to play, his long arms languidly crossing his cello. Reeves had always been captivated by the sensuous way he moved. As the tune began, he recognized it. It was one that he had played before but not often. It was faster than much of the music that he played and darker. He searched for the name of it, but only came up with the composter—Stravinsky. A Russian. Reeves anger suddenly returned.

Reeves’s XO, Commander Gorman, appeared at his door. Reeves turned off the recording. Gorman took a step back, reading the anger on his commander’s face. Reeves demurred.

“Come in, what is it?”

“There’s been an… incident… in the brig. We’ve had to restrain one of the prisoners.”

“Which one?”

“A ghost? Did you know about this?”

Reeves stood up so quickly his chair fell over backwards. Gorman jumped at the sound.

“Was he harmed?”

“No, but he took out all the electronic equipment on the cell block and even some above and below. Some sort of telekinesis.”

“Was it an escape attempt?”

“If it was, it wasn’t a good one. He could’ve walked out, but he’s still down there. We put an external psi dampener on him but…” Gorman handed Reeves a datapad. “There are some irregularities in his file… I thought you might want to take a look. Why was he being held? I didn’t see…” Reeves interrupted him.

“Gorman, don’t stick your nose into this. From this point forward, I alone deal with this ghost. Any inquiries go straight to me. I want no one to speak of him. There’s no ghost in our brig, and there never was. Is that clear?”

Gorman went white. Reeves knew he understood. He generally allowed him more freedom than others of his staff—he had known him the longest of any of the crew—but because of this Gorman also knew how quickly Reeves could turn on someone. And when he turned, the relationship was soured forever.

“O-of course, Admiral.”

“Dismissed.”

Gorman left quickly. Reeves read through Gregory Stukov’s file at his desk. He was young—22 biologically but 27 chronologically—and had entered the UED’s ghost program late either because he had been shielded by someone or because he was a late bloomer. His psi index was midrange and he had no reason to have been brain panned—no covert missions or erratic behavior. This appeared to be his first major mission.

On brain-panning, Reeves aligned more with the Terran Dominion’s view of the practice than with his own government. Degenerates with psionic powers, he felt, needed to be tightly controlled. Brain-panning, he believed, made them docile. They knew no better than to follow orders and could do nothing for themselves if the practice was used judiciously. It had been standard operating procedure until around the time when Reeves had just begun maturing into his military career. Reeves’s first choice of posting had been a ghost “academy” in Montreal. He had already begun living there, and it was where he had met Henri. But the door to that opportunity had suddenly slammed shut. The same year a paper had been put before the UPL Council written by a group of anonymous military officers. It was titled “The Treatment of ‘Degenerate’ Psionic Assets in Training and Combat: An Analysis of Statistics and Subsequent Recommendations.” In it was a scathing deconstruction of many of the academy’s training methods and processes, the most notable of which their usage of “brain-panning” or memory erasure. Common wisdom was that eliminating an agent’s past made them more loyal. This paper, with statistics, case studies, and even some experiments, seemed to prove that it didn’t. One rhetorical question always stuck out to him, and it was the one that was his career’s undoing: “How can soldiers be loyal to a country they don’t remember?” Of all the arguments—that soldiers who were brain-panned could not relate to their commanders, that not being able to remember their families made them unable to form familial bonds among their comrades, and that making them unable to care for themselves in any practical sense put them at a disadvantage in survival situations—the question was the one that shut down the academies temporarily until they could be reformed. Reeves had sided against the paper and the revisions it would make. But the paper’s ideas had just enough patriotic spin on them. The regime changed and was out. And he was out with it.

Years later, a few months before the Expeditionary Fleet was about to leave, a memo was forwarded to him by a friend who had survived the change in leadership. It was from Vice Admiral Stukov. His friend had written a note with it saying, “Notice anything?” In his memo, Stukov had sent along Admiral DuGalle’s call for the number of ghosts that they needed to accompany them to the Koprulu sector. With it, he had sent his own qualifiers since they would be directly under his command. He “under no circumstances” wanted any ghost that had been brain-panned for any reason—and he explained why. In his explanation, there were several sentences that were worded in almost exactly the same way as the paper that had made its way to the UPL Council years ago. Either Stukov kept a copy around or he had written at least part of it. Reeves looked up the paper and read it again. Sure enough, in the passages where the language was the most heated and blunt, there he recognized Stukov’s voice. He had sidetracked Reeves’s career from afar—and it hadn’t been the first time.

But now, as he read Gregory’s file, he wondered how Stukov had been so prescient. How had he known his son—who wouldn’t have shown signs before Stukov left—would be a degenerate? Unless his father was. Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake, Reeves thought. The bad egg. The spoiled apple. DuGalle’s pet a psionic. Gorman had been right about there being something fishy about the file. His psi index was rated at 5.5—too low for telekinesis and for the damage done to the brig. There were ghosts that were exceptions, but not many. His other scores were above average but not exceptional—as if he had been purposefully lowballing his tests or someone had changed his scores keep attention away from him. He would make some discrete inquiries to see who might be the culprit, but some of the information he was hoping the boy himself would divulge. A high psi index, holding back his powers, being too connected, or behaving erratically—all of these circumstances could potentially warrant brain-panning if presented the right way.

A brain-panned son would be just what Stukov deserved. Gregory needed it, he thought, all ghosts needed it. But if Gregory had any loyalty to his father—and if he had been trying to escape—it would be necessary regardless of how he felt about Stukov. He couldn’t lose him, and the look on Stukov’s face when he realized his son no longer knew who he was would balance the ledger that Reeves had been tallying of his misdeeds.

Reeves looked up the name of the chief ghost wrangler and trainer on board. He had seen several messages about a “missing ghost” from him but he had been ignoring them. He found his name—Special Ops Chief Shin. Shin picked up immediately when Reeves called. A weathered man appeared on the screen with close-cropped silver hair and one eye that was all white. In another place, he would have a prosthetic, but in the UED, such things weren’t allowed.

“Shin!” He said curtly as a greeting. Reeves didn’t like that.

“Chief Shin, this is Admiral Reeves…” He said, waiting for his authority over him to sink in. It never did.

“Yes? What do you need?”

“I have a recalcitrant ghost that needs to be re-educated.”

“You mean brain-panned? A drastic measure. I would need to evaluate them.”

“That will not be necessary.”

“Yes, it will. Is this about my missing ghost?”

“That is not your concern.”

“Like hell it isn’t. Where is he?”

“If you don’t have that machine ready in an hour, you’ll be in the same hole I put him in.”

“What? This is out—”

Reeves cut him off. He knew what he had to do, but he wanted to speak with the boy first.

The lights had been restored in the brig by the time Reeves entered. A tech was still working on the guard’s surveillance terminal, her head in an access port under the desk. The guard looked on, standing nearby, bored and helpless. An ensign was still sweeping up the glass in the hallway of the cell block. The guard quickly stood at attention when Reeves entered. The tech hit her head on the desk, but also stood at attention. Reeves barely acknowledged them.

“I want both of you to still be here when I come back out. Talk to no one, let no one leave, and send anyone who comes in away. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

Reeves skulked into the cell block, gripping the datapad Gorman had given him in his hand. He stopped at Gregory’s cell and looked in at him. When Gregory saw him, he quickly stood, his large green eyes meeting his fleetingly and then darting away. There was a thick, white metal collar around his neck—the external dampener they had fitted him with. Most ghosts had a failsafe surgically implanted in their brains, but they were calibrated to the psi index in their files. If he had one, it would be incorrectly fitted if his file was wrong. As he looked at him, Reeves saw little of his father in him. Maybe the eye shape and the body type, but the rest was his mother, whom Reeves had met infrequently but vividly remembered. That made it easier to talk to him. If he’d looked like Stukov, he thought, it would have been a lot harder not to kill him there in the hangar. But it would be harder to brain-pan him, and, if it came to it, kill him later, When his father inevitably pisses me off.

He briefly thought about how hilarious it would be if it turned out Gregory wasn’t actually his son, and his wife had already been halfway out the door that long before their divorce. But he knew that wasn’t possible. The mandatory DNA screening most children went through to predict psionic ability would also have established paternity. Gregory had avoided testing—officer’s family privilege—until he most likely began to show signs of what the UED saw as an affliction. That was the first of many oddities of his file, which he would discuss with him.

Reeves held up the datapad for Gregory to see. “I have your dossier right here, Gregory…” Gregory’s eyes followed it nervously. “There are a few items I think you’d better explain.”

“Okay…” Gregory murmured.

“First, your file says not a thing about you being a teek. That’s a little odd, don’t you think?” He said, his voice raising with the question.”

“I… guess?”

“You guess? Any idea why that pertinent information was kept out of your file?”

Gregory was silent for a moment.

“Clerical error?” He finally said. Reeves’s eyes narrowed. He saw more of his father in him now. That was exactly the kind of flippant remark his father would make.

“Are you trying to be funny, son?”

“No, sir,” he said quickly. Reeves watched his face. He was obviously afraid of him. The remark had been guileless if a bit stupid.

“It also says your psi index is five and a half—and we both know that can’t possibly be right.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t play coy with me. We both know a human must have at least a PI of at least eight to be telekinetic. Tell me what your real number is.”

Gregory was silent again, looking away.

“Boy, if you don’t tell me, I’ll have it beaten out of you.”

“Eight point two,” he said wearily, “What does it matter?”

“Because one of my most powerful ghosts is exhibiting ‘erratic behavior,’ and may need some more permanent restraint than that psi dampener.” Gregory took a step back, the back of his leg hitting the bench behind him, causing him to lose his footing and fall against the wall.

“No, that’s not necessary…”

“You tried to escape.”

“I didn’t!”

“That’s enough!” A voice said from down the hallway. Dressed in a greying, threadbare ghost’s uniform covered by a long, black duster, Shin marched towards Reeves. Gregory stood up when he saw him. Shin ignored Reeves.

“Finally, I found you. I thought you’d gone AWOL. But that wasn’t right.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been in here since we got here…”

“Don’t apologize. What have I told you about that?”

“I’m sor… I mean…”

“How did you get in here?” Reeves said, blustering.

“I’m a ghost? How else? You’re not hard to find. All I did was ask the computer where you were. You really should have your whereabouts clearance-locked.” Reeves fumed. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” he said, turning back to Gregory.

“No, but he put a gun to my head.”

Shin turned quickly to Reeves, “You what?”

From down the hallway, another prisoner had woken, hearing the three of them talking. He began banging on the wall.

“Hello? Who’s there? I am a Terran Republic citizen, damn it. I demand due process and a lawyer.” It was Marcos Marinakis. Reeves had almost forgotten about him, but he needed him later.

“Shut up!” he yelled at him. Reeves’s rage was about to get the best of him. He turned back to Gregory.

“I sense your anger, Reeves,” Shin said calmly, “But this boy is not his father.” Reeves became irater at the imposition of Shin on his thoughts. He had accessed what amounted to classified data. Shin had not been privy to any briefings on Stukov and his appearance in the Koprulu sector.

“That thing is not my father!”

“What?” Reeves said, taken aback.

“It is a zerg-infested zombie and an abomination.” Reeves never considered that Gregory would not see Stukov as his father anymore. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Stukov may not be Stukov but instead a reanimated version of him. But the way Stukov had spoken to him, the stunt he had pulled—he had been more vicious than usual, but it wasn’t out of character. He had been his same, sardonic self. It had to have been the real Stukov; he felt it. His body may have been tainted by the zerg, but his mind was still there. Gregory had not been able to speak to him. He had only seen what he had done and had to believe that he had not betrayed and abandoned them all those years ago. Reeves realized that brain-panning would be a kindness to Gregory and to his father. He would not use it on him—not yet anyway. Down the hallway, Marinakis began making noise again.

“You can’t do this! I am a presidential candidate!

“You’re right, Shin. He’s not his father. His father is dead. We should be more respectful of that. Of course that thing we’re allied with is an abomination… But we must play along, right?”

Gregory nodded slowly, suspicious.

“There’s no reason to punish him, Reeves,” Shin said quietly.

“No, there isn’t. But he’ll have to stay here for his own safety…”

“Fine. As long as we don’t have need for the operation room…” Shin began. Marinakis bellowed in the background.

“Hold that thought, Shin. I think I still have use for your machine…”

#alexei stukov #stukov #starcraft #starcraft2 #starcraft 2 #fanfiction #fanfic #no omen no country's cause

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