StarCraft

by Timothy Zahn

  Despite the tension, Valerian had to smile at the admiral’s carefully official tone. The experts still didn’t know whether psi emitters induced a queen or broodmother to send her zerg in that direction, or whether they worked directly on the nearest batch of lower-level zerg. But the results were the same: a mass of nasty aliens converging on the emitter’s location.

  The devices had occasionally been useful during the war. They’d also been used by Valerian’s father to destroy the Confederate capital planet of Tarsonis, which had paved the way for Arcturus’s takeover and his creation of the Terran Dominion. Highly dangerous devices, and not to be taken lightly.

  “Relax—I haven’t gone that crazy,” he assured Matt. “I was thinking of landing one a hundred klicks or so from Point Three and seeing if we can divert the local zerg away from the survey team.”

  “Ah,” Matt said, his face clearing. “Hmm. Well, I doubt there’s anything like that aboard any of our ships. But I’ll bet the techs could cobble something together before the team gets there.”

  “Which is in…?”

  Matt glanced at the bridge chrono. “About five hours.”

  “Call the techs and get them started,” Valerian said. “And get an estimate of when they’ll have something up and running.”

  “Admiral?” the tactical officer called tensely from his seat in his sensor wraparound. “You’ll want to see this, sir.”

  Valerian crossed to the wraparound, Matt right beside him. “Those leviathans, sir,” the tac officer said, pointing to several of the displays. “The ones that’ve been keeping an eye on us and the protoss ships. They’re all heading to the surface.”

  “All to different spots, looks like,” Matt murmured. “The broodmothers, you think?”

  “That would make sense,” Valerian said grimly. “Zagara has probably warned them all by now that negotiations have broken down. They want to be ready to evacuate if necessary.”

  “Taking who knows what with them,” Matt said. “If Zagara wants to sneak out some psyolisks, there’s no way we can intercept and search six leviathans.”

  “Seven, sir,” the tac officer corrected. “Including the one we followed in from Korhal.”

  “I’d forgotten that one,” Matt said, leaning closer. “Is it doing anything?”

  “No, sir. Still just sitting there.”

  “Not surprising,” Valerian said. “The situation’s unstable enough as it is. Hopefully, Zagara’s not going to rock the boat by running to her leviathan and taking off.”

  “She might if she thought it was worth the gamble,” Matt pointed out. “Say, if she had some psyolisks and a captured ghost she could turn Abathur loose on.”

  Valerian’s eyes flicked to one of the other displays. The survey team’s dropship was still cutting atmosphere toward Point Three, with no imminent threats in sight. “We’ll keep a close eye on her,” he said.

  “And speaking of rocking the boat, one more little tidbit.” Matt indicated the display that showed the various hot spots in the protoss ships. “Looks like Artanis is starting to power up his purifier beam.”

  Valerian mouthed a curse. “Getting ready to incinerate Gystt.”

  “Shall I call and ask him to stand down?” Matt asked. “At least until we get the survey team out of there?”

  Valerian looked back at the leviathans moving across the starscape. Matt was right: if one—or more—of the huge creatures was tasked with taking off with a group of psyolisks, there was no way the Dominion and protoss forces could stop all of them.

  And that couldn’t be allowed to happen. Not after such a graphic demonstration of the devastation the new zerg could deliver to both terrans and protoss.

  They had to be defeated.

  “No,” he told Matt. “Just remind him about our people on the ground, and ask that he keep us informed of any planned action.” He hesitated. “And then begin prepping all our own space-to-ground weaponry.”

  Matt’s eyes widened. “Valerian—sir—”

  “That’s an order, Admiral,” Valerian cut in, putting the full weight of his position into his voice.

  Matt stiffened to attention. “Understood, Your Excellency,” he said, matching Valerian’s formal tone.

  Valerian frowned. Matt never called him Your Excellency anymore, not since Valerian had flatly told him—and everyone else—not to. Was the admiral’s use of his father’s favored honorific some kind of not-so-subtle hint? A deliberate reference to Emperor Arcturus’s coldly violent way of doing things?

  If it was, the admiral was going to love Valerian’s next order. “You will also prep the Yamato cannon,” he continued. “Its target, should it prove necessary, will be Focal Point Three. You’ll prep a small evac force to get the team out of there if required.”

  “If necessary, and if there’s time?” Matt asked pointedly.

  “If there’s time,” Valerian agreed.

  “Understood, Your Excellency.”

  Deliberately, Valerian turned away from the admiral’s gaze. Definitely a reference to Emperor Arcturus.

  On one level, Valerian had to agree. Wholesale slaughter, wanton collateral damage—those had been the hallmarks of his father’s reign. They’d been the very things Valerian had pledged to change about the Dominion.

  And now he was following squarely in his father’s bloodstained footsteps. He could only hope that this was just an aberration, a momentary bump on the high road he had promised to take.

  Because the alternative was that he’d been fooling himself all along. Maybe there was simply no way to make war into something civilized. Maybe warfare was always going to be a matter of us versus them. Maybe survival would always be winner take all, loser be annihilated.

  Valerian had always denounced that philosophy: loudly, publicly, and sincerely. Some people had praised him for his decency. Others had criticized his naïveté.

  Which of those people, he wondered, were right?

  Once, he’d thought he knew. Now he wasn’t nearly so certain.

  Today, perhaps, he would find out.

  Among its other duties, the implant in Tanya’s brain was supposed to help smooth out her emotions. Lowering the peaks, as it were, and raising the valleys.

  It wasn’t doing that job very well today.

  There was also a whole pharmacy of drugs available for her to take, everything from alcohol to hab to secret military cocktails that didn’t even have official names. Those also promised to get her on an even keel and keep her there.

  She had no interest in touching any of them.

  Besides, even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t know which class of drug to take. Her emotions were running a full hill-hugger ride from white-hot fury at being lied to straight down to a black depression at being lied to and back up to fury again.

  The only constant in her mood was the fact that she’d been lied to.

  How could Ulavu do that to her?

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught someone approaching. She tensed—

  But it was only Erin. “Can I talk to you a minute?” the other woman asked, her forehead wrinkled in thought.

  Tanya’s first instinct was to say no. Her heart and soul were aching, and all she wanted was to curl up within herself—alone—until the ache went away.

  But Erin’s expression wasn’t that of a woman who just felt like a casual chat. It was something important. Maybe even important enough to provide some mental distraction. “Sure,” Tanya said, suppressing a sigh. “What’s up?”

  “It’s this report,” Erin said, pulling out her datapad and dropping into the next seat. Sometime in the past couple of hours, she’d taken off her armor, probably with Whist’s help, and looked a lot fresher and more comfortable than Tanya currently felt. “This transcription of Emperor Valerian’s conversation with Overqueen Zagara. Did you read it?”

  “Not yet,” Tanya said. “Is there a problem?”

  “I don’t know,” Erin said, calling up a section of the report and
handing her datapad to Tanya. “Zagara claims that these adostra things—they’re supposedly what we saw in the pods—can’t go rogue and crazy and attack people like the psyolisks did.”

  “People claim all sorts of things are impossible,” Tanya said, skimming the section. “Someone once told me friends don’t lie to each other.”

  Erin blinked. “Ah…my point is that I got to thinking about the psyolisks and what we saw in the pods. You’ve studied zerg anatomy, right?”

  “I’ve looked inside a few,” Tanya said. Actually, she’d seen way more than her fair share of zerg guts during her training. Marines only needed to know where the weakest part of a zerg’s exterior was; she needed to know which of their innards would burn best. “There wasn’t a lot left to see after Dizz finished with the pods, if that’s where you’re going.”

  “I know that,” Erin said. “And Zagara says that the adostra use xel’naga essence rather than zerg varieties, so their ontogeny might be different from the normal spawning-pool version of—”

  “Their what?”

  “Their ontogeny,” Erin repeated. “Their life cycle from fertilization to full adult. Zerg normally don’t go through a metamorphosis stage, while the adostra almost have to if—”

  “You’re losing me,” Tanya said, fighting back a surge of anger. She really wasn’t in the mood for a technical discussion. “Why does it need a metamorphosis?”

  “Because what we saw in the pods didn’t look like the final psyolisks,” Erin said. “But that’s my point. The psyolisks do look like zerg, or at least some sort of midway point between zerglings and hydralisks. What are the odds that would happen with an unknown creature melded with non-zerg genetics?”

  Tanya shook her head. “Sorry, but this is way over my head. I don’t know anything about onto-whatever. All I know is that the pod things and the psyolisks both had that red-dot pattern down their backs. As far as I know, no other zerg strain has anything even close to that. And remember that six of the pods were empty, like your metamorphosis had finished and those were the ones that had gotten out.”

  “We ran into a lot more than just six psyolisks,” Erin pointed out. “And I didn’t see any trace of nutrient fluids in the empty pods.”

  “Because Dizz torched the place,” Tanya reminded her patiently. “Look, I don’t know what Zagara is claiming, and I don’t care. The psyolisks are killing machines, and they need to be exterminated. Period.” She gestured at Erin’s untouched jumpsuit. “You’re just lucky you had Ulavu at your back in there.”

  “I don’t know what Ulavu had to do with it,” Erin said, sounding puzzled. “It was Whist and Dizz who kept them off us.” She made a face. “Off me, anyway. Ulavu didn’t make it through nearly as well.”

  Tanya frowned, craning her neck to look around the cabin. Ulavu was nowhere to be seen. “Where’d he go?” she asked.

  “Medical bay,” Erin said, nodding to the sectioned-off compartment in the dropship’s stern. “Probably changing his dressings. Well, thanks anyway.” She stood up.

  “Wait a minute,” Tanya said, still trying to process all this. “You say Ulavu got hurt in the battle, but you didn’t?”

  “That’s right,” Erin said. “Like I said, Whist and Dizz were really good at shooting them when they got too close.”

  “Too close to you. Not too close to Ulavu.”

  Erin wrinkled her nose. “Yes. I already said that.”

  “Yeah,” Tanya said. “Thanks.”

  For another moment Erin just stood there, probably wondering if Tanya was going unstable. Then, with a silent farewell nod, she walked away.

  Leaving Tanya with a seriously confusing puzzle.

  She turned it over in her mind for a few minutes. But it was quickly clear that she wasn’t going to solve it without more information.

  And there was, unfortunately, only one place to get what she needed.

  She resisted a few minutes more. But in the end, she sighed, unstrapped, and headed back to the medical bay.

  Ulavu was there, just as Erin had said. He had removed his tunic and was carefully placing a bandage across his lower torso. More bandages were visible elsewhere across his upper body. Lying at his feet were five discarded bandages, each coated with dark-purple protoss blood. He’d been torn up, all right.

  Tanya hadn’t even noticed.

  The protoss looked up as she entered, and for a moment they locked eyes. You have shunned me since the battles at Focal Point One, he said at last. Your mind has also been closed to me, as it is even now. Please tell me how I have failed you.

  Bluntness, Tanya had always felt, deserved to be answered in kind. Sure, she said. But we should start with proper introductions. Am I addressing a Templar or a Nerazim?

  She had the sense of a mental sigh. How many know?

  Tanya frowned. I assumed everyone except me.

  No. Only Sergeant Foster Cray knows, for only he was aware when we first met the psyolisks. He ducked his head in an almost embarrassed-looking sort of half bow. And now you also know.

  Yes, Tanya said, determined not to let her anger get sidetracked by remorse. He’d betrayed her trust, and she was furious at him, and she was going to damn well stay that way. You haven’t answered my question.

  I am Nerazim. With the loss of the Khala wrought by the war, the Nerazim ability to access Void energies makes us more versatile than most Templar.

  Why do you need to be more versatile?

  Is that what you wish to know, Tanya Caulfield? he asked. Or do you wish to know why you were lied to?

  Why I was lied to? Tanya shook her head. No—you don’t get to phrase it that way. The question is why you lied to me. And yes, I want to know.

  I had orders, Ulavu said, and again Tanya sensed a mental sigh. I had a mission. I was honor-bound to accomplish it. You surely understand honor and duty.

  Don’t change the subject, Tanya growled. What kind of mission was it? I assumed you protoss already knew about the ghost program.

  Hierarch Artanis needed no information, Ulavu agreed. What he wished was for me to find and identify a Dominion ghost of a specific psionic power.

  Tanya clenched her teeth. So she hadn’t been a friend to him, or even an unknowing information source. All she’d been was some sort of high-stakes door prize. Let me guess. Something that had rarely been seen before, maybe? Like pyrokinesis?

  Ulavu inclined his head to the side. No.

  For a second Tanya thought she’d misunderstood. No?

  No, he said reluctantly. I was sent to locate and befriend a telekinetic.

  Tanya felt as if the floor had just been pulled out from under her. She hadn’t even been a door prize? What are you talking about? There are two teeks in the program right now. What was wrong with them?

  He was silent so long that she started to wonder if she’d lost contact. I did not wish them as friends, he said at last. They are not…good souls.

  And now he was going to presume to judge all of humanity? This just got better and better. They are perfectly acceptable souls, she shot back.

  Are they?

  She scowled. No, damn it all, they really weren’t. Glistrup was manic depressive and a compulsive liar, while Mai was just an all-around mean person. No one liked them.

  Still, they were competent enough teeks, if somewhat low-power. So what did you want with them?

  The protoss have developed a new weapon, Ulavu said evasively. Of only minor tactical use, but of interest to a number of us. It was hoped a terran telekinetic would be useful in its deployment, as the human version of that ability carries unique characteristics not found in protoss. We wished to explore what could be achieved through a partnership with such a terran. I can say no more.

  Okay, Tanya said, frowning. But the history of warfare isn’t exactly choking with nice, upstanding people. You wanted a teek, and you had Glistrup and Mai to choose from. Why didn’t you pick one of them?

  Because I knew neither would be satisfied sharing my
attention and my friendship with another.

  So what? You only needed one of them, right?

  Yes. He hesitated. But I then would not have been able to befriend you.

  Tanya glared at him. Oh no, she insisted. You aren’t going to put this on me. I had nothing to do with messing up your plans or your mission.

  I make no such allegation, he protested. It was my choice. My decision. My failure.

  Tanya gazed at him, bits and pieces of the puzzle that was Ulavu finally coming together. His abandonment by the protoss, his rumored estrangement from Hierarch Artanis himself, his continuing but seemingly dead-end position at the ghost program—

  That night in Dante’s Circle, she said. You said you were doing research. You were looking for a teek, weren’t you?

  I had recently uncovered rumors that one of those who perished on Chau Sara had the gift, Ulavu said. It is thought by some that such powers may follow bloodlines. I had hoped I might locate a family member in that place.

  Instead, you nearly got your head taken off. Tanya winced as the true situation in Dante’s belatedly clicked. Rather, they nearly got their heads taken off.

  I would not have harmed them, Ulavu assured her. I was on Korhal IV as a guest. I would never abuse that responsibility.

  Yeah. Tanya took a deep breath. This conversation isn’t over, Ulavu. We will get back to it. But right now we have more immediate worries. Tell me about the main battle in Point One, the one in the upstairs chamber. What happened to you and Erin?

  We were attacked, as were you, Sergeant Foster Cray, and Lieutenant Dennis Halkman. He indicated the bandages across his torso. As you see, he added ruefully, my abilities were not up to Nerazim standards.

  The psyolisks?

  Yes. I found myself distracted and was often unable to focus. If not for your ability to quickly kill the enemy, we would all have perished.

  Enough reason right there to make friends with me, I guess. Tanya frowned to herself. Had she just made a joke about it?

  There were more reasons than that, Ulavu said firmly.

  Yes, I know. Apparently, he hadn’t caught the humor. Not the first time that had happened. The problem is—