StarCraft

by Timothy Zahn

  The protoss, as Mukav’s message had hinted, were already there in force: three void rays, two carriers, a swarm of phoenixes, even a massive mothership.

  The zerg had their own force in orbit as well: six more leviathans. So far, though, the leviathans were keeping their distance from the intruders, apparently content to watch and wait. The protoss likewise seemed to be in an observation or possibly siege array, perhaps waiting for the zerg to make the next move.

  And as for the planet itself…

  “Matt?” Valerian murmured as he stood beside the admiral on the Hyperion’s bridge. “Didn’t Ulavu say the protoss incinerated this planet?”

  “Over a decade ago, yes,” Matt murmured back.

  “Completely?”

  “I’ve never known the protoss to go with half measures.”

  Valerian nodded, gazing at the huge bridge display.

  The display that currently showed the planet’s major continent covered with a patchwork of prairies, broad scrubland, and lush green-and-purple forests.

  None of which could possibly exist.

  Valerian took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said briskly. “Get a signal to that mothership. Let’s see if Hierarch Artanis is taking the Dominion’s calls today.

  “Maybe he can tell us what the hell is going on.”

  “The satellites were placed over Gystt eight years ago,” Artanis said, the words coming from the Hyperion’s bridge speakers in the terran-sounding voice that resulted when protoss psionics intersected with comm systems. “It was during the absence of the Queen of Blades, and we wished advance knowledge of where she might next take the Swarm.”

  “And they missed seeing”—Valerian gestured to the planet below them—“all that?”

  “The satellites were small to avoid drawing attention,” Artanis said. “Their scale necessarily imposed limits on their range. It was assumed that a large migration of zerg would include many leviathans, some of which would surely come within detection distance. It was only when the satellites failed that we sent an appraiser to investigate.”

  “And found that an incinerated planet had become a primeval paradise,” Valerian said, frowning. “You said both satellites failed? At the same time?”

  “Indeed,” Artanis confirmed. “In retrospect, we now believe it was sabotage. The zerg were planning to leave Gystt and wished us not to observe their movements.”

  “With all due respect,” Matt put in from across the bridge, “if that was Zagara’s plan, she dropped the ball.”

  Artanis’s luminescent eyes turned toward him. “Explain, Admiral Matthew Horner.”

  Valerian looked sideways at Matt. Normal protoss were intimidating enough, with their piercing eyes and long, utterly unreadable faces. But Artanis was a step up even from that. His glittering crownlike headpiece and ceremonial armor sent small flashes of light across the display with every movement, reminding everyone watching that this was the leader of a race that had been traveling the stars for millennia.

  And not just traveling, but also locating, identifying, and watching over other sentient races. Noble, proud, and powerful, the protoss had been the guardians of this part of the galaxy for a long, long time.

  What path would human civilization have taken, Valerian had often wondered, if the protoss’ travels had led them to Old Earth’s arm of the galaxy? Despite the Dae’Uhl, the protoss’ principle of noninterference, would the humans there have noticed the visitors? If so, would the simple knowledge that humanity wasn’t alone have sparked a golden age among Earth’s peoples?

  Or would it have precipitated their utter destruction?

  Matt was apparently too focused on the task at hand to feel intimidated by Artanis’s glare or presence. “If she was trying to pull off a mass evacuation before you could get a force out here to stop her, why is she still here?” he asked.

  “Can you state with full knowledge that she did not send large forces from Gystt while we were blinded?” Artanis countered.

  Matt’s lips puckered. “No, I guess I can’t,” he conceded. “I just assumed that someone who styles herself an Overqueen would want to lead whatever charge she’d planned. Or at least go wherever they were going so she could watch.”

  “There’s a lot here we’re all assuming, and a lot we don’t know,” Valerian said, coming to his rescue. “But you’re here, Hierarch Artanis, and we’re here, and it’s entirely possible we’re both here by invitation.” He inclined his head. “Invitations of a sort,” he amended. “Ours was certainly more formal than yours.”

  “Forcing the mobilization of a protoss war fleet is not a proper invitation,” Artanis said stiffly. “Nor is it a wise strategy.”

  “Agreement on both points,” Valerian said, shivering at the memory of the last time he’d seen a protoss war fleet in action. “But Zagara may not think the same way we do. At any rate, as I say, we’re here. Shall we invite her to join in the conversation and perhaps clear up some of these questions?”

  “Do you expect to learn any truth from a zerg?”

  “Normally, no.” Valerian again gestured toward the incredible greenery on the planet below. “But until a few hours ago I wouldn’t have believed something like that could happen, either. I’m not suggesting we trust whatever she has to say. But let’s at least hear her out.”

  Artanis hunched his shoulders. “As you wish, Emperor Valerian. You of the Terran Dominion received the more formal invitation. It rests upon you to begin communications.”

  “Thank you,” Valerian said. “Admiral, you have a connection prepared?”

  “Yes, sir,” Matt said. “Under the assumption that Zagara’s using the same protocols as Mukav, we’re going to try that frequency and slip-pattern again.”

  “Any reason why Zagara couldn’t be using something else?”

  “Not a one,” Matt conceded readily. “We just thought we’d start there.”

  “Good enough,” Valerian said. “Open a transmission, and let’s give it a try.”

  “Transmission open.”

  “Overqueen Zagara, this is Emperor Valerian Mengsk of the Terran Dominion,” Valerian said. “Also in the speaking circle is Hierarch Artanis, leader of the united protoss. You asked for terran help. Tell me what you wish from us.”

  “Greetings to you, Emperor Valerian and Hierarch Artanis,” a grating voice replied from the bridge speakers. Simultaneously, the bony image of a zerg queen appeared on the comm display.

  But not an ordinary queen. Back when Kerrigan was ruling the Swarm as the Queen of Blades, Zagara had been transformed into a broodmother, which had drastically modified both her appearance and her capabilities.

  And not in the direction of being gentler or less threatening, either. Quite the opposite. The usual queen cranial bone armor had been thickened and spread outward to both sides, creating an umbrella-like helmet that made her virtually unassailable from above. Along the center of the helmet, running from front to back, was a set of horns that would do an Old Earth rhinoceros proud. The upper-knee parts of her legs had been equipped with similar spikes, curving up and back. Her slender forearms seemed to have been made more dexterous, the clawed hands more nimble.

  For a moment the camera lingered on a full-body shot, showing Zagara in all her horrific detail. Then the image zoomed in slowly to focus on the angled face and glittering eyes. Almost, Valerian thought grimly, as if Zagara had wanted to remind her visitors just what it was they were facing before moving on to conversation.

  Not that either he or Artanis was likely to forget. The creature peering out at them held the Swarm at her command, an army that had slaughtered millions of terrans and protoss and laid waste to dozens of planets. All previous zerg leaders had been utterly ruthless creatures, willing to do whatever was necessary to achieve their goal of domination and absorption.

  Had that goal changed? Valerian hoped so. But even in his most optimistic moment he conceded that there was no proof of it. For all he knew, this was nothing but a slightl
y subtler ploy than usual that Zagara was using to draw her enemies into an unfavorable position.

  “I welcome you to Gystt,” Zagara continued. “Thank you, especially, Emperor Valerian, for your unexpectedly but gratifyingly prompt response to my invitation.”

  “My pleasure, Overqueen,” Valerian said. “The situation sounded important, as well as intriguing.”

  “I trust you will find it rewarding as well,” Zagara said. “You have questions, both of you. Speak them, and I will endeavor to answer.”

  “Let’s start with the obvious one,” Valerian said. “Tell us what happened to Gystt.”

  “The zerg happened to Gystt,” Zagara said. “For the zerg have changed, Emperor Valerian. The very soul of the zerg has changed. She who was once Sarah Kerrigan, then the Queen of Blades, then ascended to xel’naga, showed us the way.”

  Xel’Naga. Reflexively, Valerian sat up a bit straighter. The reports of what had happened to Kerrigan had been confusing and contradictory, but they’d all agreed that she had once again been transformed, this time into something even more alien than any of the Koprulu sector’s other species.

  And the rumor was indeed that she’d been changed—or raised, or ascended—to some form of xel’naga.

  Valerian had no idea what that meant. The xel’naga had once been the protoss’ patrons, watching over them from afar, protecting them just as the protoss themselves would one day play a watchman role over younger species. Somehow, it seemed, Kerrigan had been accepted into that position, or endowed with the title, or something equally nebulous.

  Kerrigan had been a combination of terran and zerg at the time of her ascension. Had someone somehow replaced those genetics, and possibly her entire cellular structure, with the xel’naga equivalents?

  No one knew. For that matter, no one even knew if the transformation had been an honor, the inevitable next stage in terran or zerg evolution, or a condemnation and punishment.

  Given that Kerrigan had never been seen again, Valerian rather tended toward the latter explanation. “She showed you the way to what?” he asked.

  “To peace,” Zagara said. “Throughout our history, the zerg have always striven to seek perfection in ourselves. But that ideal was always beyond our reach. And so before she departed forever, the Queen of Blades gave us a final gift.”

  Valerian glanced at Artanis’s image, wondering if the hierarch was going to join in on the conversation. Certainly the protoss had had their fair share of dealings with Kerrigan and her later avatars.

  But Artanis made no such sign. “What gift was that?” Valerian asked, turning back to Zagara. “The power to create new life on a barren planet?”

  “The zerg have always had the power to create,” Zagara said. “We have always known how to take living beings and meld and mix and mold them to our desired image.”

  “Then what did Kerrigan give you?” Valerian persisted.

  “That which the zerg have never had.” Zagara spread her claws outward. “Choice.”

  The word seemed to hang in the air. “Choice,” Valerian repeated.

  “The choice of whether to continue the path of destruction in our endless quest for perfection, or to accept what we are and use our skills to nurture life,” Zagara said. “We have made our decision. Here, on Gystt, you see the result.”

  Valerian threw a sideways look at Matt. No—that simply wasn’t possible. Everything in the Swarm’s long and bloody history screamed the impossibility of such a change of goal. The zerg were in the business of annihilating planets, infesting and absorbing every species they could use, and destroying everything they couldn’t. They’d left a trail of destruction and death behind them, not just through the Koprulu sector but all the way back through the light-years and the centuries to their primal world of Zerus.

  Terrans didn’t change like that. Not that quickly. Certainly not that completely. Neither did protoss. How in the world could the zerg?

  And yet…

  He looked at the display, and the cloud-speckled landscape below. And yet, there was the evidence of his eyes. A devastated planet had been renewed. Renewed, re-formed, and filled with new life.

  And he had to admit there was a certain logic to it. The zerg were masters of genetic manipulation. If anyone could resurrect life from the ashes of a protoss incineration, it would be them. “You say we have made this choice. Who exactly is with you on this?”

  “The Swarm is with me.”

  “That is no answer.” Artanis spoke up at last, his voice deep and black-edged with suspicion. “We know the zerg command pyramid. We know queens and broodmothers. We know they have their own levels of sentience and free will. Their own levels of choice. You speak of the Swarm, but the Swarm is no longer a single entity.”

  “I spoke to simplify,” Zagara said. “Perhaps I simplified too much. All the broodmothers of note are mine to command. The others will submit.”

  “That’s very comforting,” Valerian said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. Maybe Zagara simply didn’t see the logical dissonance of broodmothers having choice but at the same time being under her control. “There’s no dissension among you?”

  “I have already said there is none,” Zagara said. “We are the future of the Swarm.” Her mandibles twitched up and down, a facial move Valerian had never seen in a zerg before. An attempt at a smile? “It is odd, is it not?” she added. “Here we see the zerg Swarm in greater harmony than either the terrans or the protoss. Not since the Overmind has there been such unity.”

  “Yes, we appreciate the irony,” Valerian said. First an almost-smile, and now an almost-sense-of-humor? In some ways, that was more shocking even than the explosion of life on the planet below.

  Or maybe she was just being sarcastic and condescending. That he could completely believe coming from a zerg. “I trust you won’t take offense if I say that we can’t simply accept your word for all this.”

  “That was of course anticipated,” Zagara said. “The many betrayals and reversals of the zerg are well known. Name your tests.”

  Valerian frowned. “Our tests?”

  “She refers to the tests by which we will ascertain the truth,” Artanis said.

  “Ah,” Valerian said. “Well, let’s begin with something simple. We’d like a closer look at the new world you’ve built.”

  “I assumed that would be your response,” Zagara said. “We have devised a structure specifically for this meeting among us. I will send the coordinates. You, Emperor Valerian, and you, Hierarch Artanis, will join me for clear and open conversations by which we will seek the future of the Koprulu sector.”

  “An intriguing suggestion,” Valerian said cautiously. Matt, he saw, had moved over to the sensor station and was holding a quiet conversation with the officer there. “But there’s no need for us to come to the surface. Can’t we simply continue our conversation in this manner?”

  “Is it not terran and protoss custom to meet face-to-face with potential allies?”

  “Potential allies and potential enemies both,” Valerian said. “The latter type of meeting is called war.”

  “War is what I sincerely hope to avoid,” Zagara assured him. “That is why I wish to speak with you in person. Only in person can Hierarch Artanis confirm that I am indeed speaking truth.”

  “I have had experience with zerg truth,” Artanis said. “I have no interest in studying the subject closer.”

  “A moment, Hierarch,” Valerian said, frowning as a thought struck him. “I know you and other protoss had some communication with Kerrigan during the Amon crisis. Did you have enough of a psionic connection with her that you might be able to tell whether or not Zagara is speaking truth?”

  “From this distance? There is no possibility.”

  “How about from closer?” Valerian persisted. “From inside this conference structure she mentioned, for example?”

  Artanis’s eyes seemed to glitter a little brighter. “You wish me to step into her trap?”

 
“Isn’t this worth taking a chance on?” Valerian asked. “A peaceful zerg Swarm would be a ground-shaking event.”

  “So likewise would be zerg treachery and a renewed war,” Artanis countered.

  “Agreed,” Valerian said. “But if it’s not treachery, Hierarch Artanis, then it may indeed be hope. Not just for a cease-fire, but for genuine, cooperative peace. I think it’s worth investigating closer. Don’t you?”

  For a moment Artanis seemed to study him. “The risk is great,” he said. “Not only for us, but for our peoples. If we were to be eliminated, who then would lead the protoss and the Dominion?”

  “I don’t think the danger is that great,” Valerian said. “Luring us down just so she can make our respective peoples leaderless seems way too subtle for the Swarm. Especially since she could hardly take us both without being killed in return, making the whole thing into a three-way decapitation. Regardless, I’m prepared to take the risk. I’ll go alone if I must, but I believe it would send a stronger message if you or another high-ranking protoss were to accompany me.”

  He gestured to Matt. “Admiral, I presume you’re checking out Zagara’s conference structure?”

  “Yes, sir, we are,” Matt said. He sounded even less enthusiastic than Artanis. “It’s unique among zerg constructions, I’ll give it that. It looks to be built along the general lines of a hatchery, except that it’s nonliving and the central cone is open to the sky. As far as we can tell, the interior seems to have been thoroughly sterilized of everything zerg.”

  “What’s the exterior like? As tough as a normal hatchery?”

  “At least that tough. Probably tougher.”

  “So that if something tried to break in, I’d have plenty of time to get in my dropship and get back up here?”

  “Unless they had a few flights of mutalisks in hiding, ready to zoom in and swat you out of the sky,” Matt pointed out darkly. “With all that foliage, you could hide a hundred of them within potential striking range.”

  “For what reason would I do such a thing?” Zagara asked. “I sit beneath protoss and terran battle fleets. If I betray you, I, too, will perish.”