Lilian crashed face first into the bathroom door as it opened.

“Ouch.”

The Hellion officer looked down at the small child curiously.

He had heard some kid gleefully shrieking ‘Ultralisk!’ while on the toilet, which certainly raised some eyebrows. Now that he had met the source of that high-pitched voice, George could see that it was a small girl — barely a toddler — who looked like a carbon copy of Marisa except decades younger.

The resemblance was stark, and obviously they were biologically related.

“Ugly terran. You’re not an ultralisk.” Lilian stuck out her tongue, and then ran off to hide behind the ranch owner’s legs. “Hope you go boom with baneling!”

The color drained out of Marisa’s face.

“I’m so sorry.” She said in a panic, apologizing profusely. “She didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay. I understand. Kids… they’re a handful… I get it.”

George smiled understandingly at Marisa.

The ranch owner’s child was a bit bizarre, but this wasn’t his first time encountering a young infant with odd interests. George didn’t have a clear memory of this, but apparently his parents had said that he was obsessed with freight trains and Thomas the Tank Engine as a young child. In preschool, there were many other children who gravitated to anything from barbie dolls to siege tanks.

The R-rated bloodlust was a little unsettling, but it wasn’t completely shocking to him. As recently as a few months ago, George had seen some kindergarteners playing ‘Zerg and Terrans’ in the school playground, which was apparently a new variant of ‘Cops and Robbers’ fused with the ubiquitous childhood game of ‘tag’. Most children liked to roleplay as the heroic terrans, but it wasn’t a bad thing if some kids preferred to play the robbers rather than the cops.

At the very least, Marisa’s daughter seemed carefree and energetic.

In a few years, she would probably outgrow that rowdy childhood immaturity. However, the teenage years could be difficult in their own way, and it was often hard for parents to find time for themselves with their troublemaking children capturing all of their attention.

It wasn’t – for instance – easy to go dating when you had a toddler.

The atmosphere slowly turned awkward.

Honestly, George hadn’t imagined that there was a child in the equation. Marisa looked like she was in her early twenties, but perhaps he had misjudged her age. Either that – or perhaps it was normal for women to get pregnant in their teens out in the boonies. In the middle ages, girls were often married by the time they were fourteen, and George understood that the local culture could be a bit conservative and backwards in the rural countryside.

Regardless, the Dominion officer had an added level of respect for the ranch owner.

If he put two and two together… It was obvious now that Marisa was a married woman. It was an unexpected development, but not anything shockingly unusual. In fact, it was easy to infer the story.

George imagined that Marisa must have married her high school sweetheart, but war in the Koprulu sector tore the newlyweds apart. Under the reign of Emperor Arcturus Mengsk, nearly all able-bodied men were conscripted into the Dominion Armed Forces (DAF). Dodging the draft was a state crime (unless you had a special exemption), and many men subsequently left families and loved ones behind. It was entirely possible that the child had never even met her father; deep space campaigns often lasted for years, and telecommunications through warp space were infamously erratic. Video conferencing with family was a luxury unavailable to most Dominion marines.

…Moreover, considering the battlefield mortality rate…

The hellion officer stole a quick glance at the attractive 22-year-old woman.

George cleared his throat.

“Um, the father… is he…?”

He ventured cautiously, unsure if he was stepping on a spider mine.

Frankly, a civilian’s family affairs were none of his business, but for scientific reasons, George wanted to know if Marisa was single. He considered himself to be an honorable and righteous man, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to pursue a hopeless subject any further if her husband was still alive.

Marisa’s response, though, was flat and emotionless.

“Dead.” She replied, and did not elaborate any further.

“Oh.”

George immediately felt relief, but then found himself at a loss for words.

“...Sorry,” he added afterwards, realizing belatedly that it was probably a horrible experience to lose your spouse from war.

Marisa shrugged.

“I’m not bothered by it anymore,” she said, sticking to the cover story that she had prepared long ago. 

In fact, Marisa made up the narrative the day that her daughter hatched from Nafiori’s egg. It was an easy story to work with, and more importantly, believable. Thanks to the Great Wars, there were millions of single-parent households throughout the terran colonies. In fact, in this generation, it was more an anomaly to have a father present during a child’s formative years. Practically everyone went to war – but only a fraction came back alive.

Lilian tilted her head in utter confusion. 

She seriously didn’t understand what her mother was saying. The conversation made zero sense, and they were talking about something completely weird and nonsensical. Adults were bewildering.

She tugged on Marisa’s arm.

“But Lilian never had a daddy,” Lilian protested softly. “Mommy loved mommy very much, so Lilian hatched from mommy’s egg. No daddy. Mommy don’t need a daddy.”

“...Lilian, alright. It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

Marisa sighed helplessly and patted Lilian on the forehead. 

The young hybrid hugged her human mother.

Meanwhile, George gave a wry smile.

He didn’t know whether this was sad or adorable. 

Lilian obviously had a huge misunderstanding about adult biology. There was only a certain age when young children said absurd yet precious things like this, and it was extremely cute to see. However, it was also tragic to realize that this little girl had never met her father. Lilian's husband had probably died so far away from home that their daughter didn't even realize that he existed.

As an active duty soldier, it hit him rather hard.

If he ever had kids, would they ever experience anything similar?

Would he ever have a child that he would never see?

Perhaps he was projecting too much, but George suddenly felt a powerful urge to ensure that this widowed ranch owner and her daughter could live on happily. He understood that the Koprulu Sector was a harsh place for single mothers, and the challenges could be deadly without a man in their lives protecting them or providing economically for them. Figuratively speaking, Marisa was handicapped — constantly threatened by hostile creatures on the Korhal Wastes — unable to use her keyboard when everyone else competed with their arms and legs. The fringes of civilized terran space could be sexist to a degree, and Marisa no longer had a capable man in her life to protect her from any chauvinistic assholes eager to take advantage of a lovely yet defenseless single woman and her adorable daughter.

George could be that man! He could fill in that empty gap and support them!

Of course, it’d be a bit creepy if he proclaimed his feelings at Marisa directly, so George mentally committed himself to the longer route around. Thanks to his old man’s teachings, George believed in demonstrating feelings through actions rather than words. If he cared about Marisa, George wanted to show her that he cared – because well, anything else might backfire and be taken the wrong way.

He wasn’t *ahem* trying to hook up with the 22-year-old rancher for *other* purposes.

George was an honest and well-meaning man. 

As long as the mother-daughter pair were living a good life, he could be satisfied.

“Hey, um…” George ventured exploratively. “I know this is a bit sudden, but…”

He took a deep breath.

“...If there’s anything that you need help with… let me know, alright…?”

In the back of his mind, perhaps George knew that he was drifting into unprofessional territory. The 26-year-old officer sounded insecure and hesitant, as if he was driving a ship into uncharted waters. This conversation wasn't appropriate for work (and in fact it was possibly illegal to use military equipment for personal purposes), and he made sure to shut off his comms so that it didn't accidentally broadcast to the rest of his squad. The microphone had built-in AI that was supposed to detect and transmit any military-related communication, but sometimes it broadcasted civilian noise and unrelated chatter.

He reached behind his belt and unplugged the power supply to his communicator.

"It must be hard running a farm out here and stuff, especially with a kid, so if you need an extra hand or two, I wouldn’t mind swinging by. Actually, a friend of mine drives a SCV… so uhh… we could run a haul out here… maybe build something together? I saw a couple mineral patches driving up here, and we could save on costs if you'd let us help with the mining.”

Marisa was staring out the kitchen window.

There was no response from her.

“...anyways, just thought I could help. Tuesdays and Wednesdays I’m off duty, so let me know. My name’s George Findlay. You can reach me at the Augustgrad D-Sec Barracks, Column 8. It's probably easier if I leave my number with you, though.”

George fumbled around for a pen in his pocket.

However, his audience was completely preoccupied with something else.

Lilian tugged on Marisa’s arm and pointed out the window.

“Mommy, it’s on fire.”

Outside, the alfafa field was burning, and a column of black smoke rose into the sky. The fire was spreading everywhere, and in less than twenty seconds, the conflagration had reached the soghorn and legumes. There wasn't much rainfall in the desert Wastes, and much of the shrubbery was brittle and dry.

Marisa was frozen in place, with her gaze transfixed outside the window.

"Mommy? Mommy?" Lilian pulled on Marisa's arm again.

George’s eyes suddenly widened, and then he cursed. If the farm was burning, it could only mean one thing. He fumbled for the coms device on his belt. Clumsily, he switched on the device and rushed for the door.

“Charlie, come in! Status?” He spoke into the communicator. “Was it Zerg contact? Do you read me?”

He grabbed his gauss rifle in a hurry.

The response over radio was interspersed with static.

「Negative. No zerg. False alarm. Stand down. Situation yellow. Scanner misread scantid bio-signatures as zerg.」

「Jimmy, you gotta see this! There’s hundreds of them! Scantids everywhere!」

「Oooh baby, roasted scantids for dinner! Cookin’ it up here.」

“Scantids?” George responded, almost flabbergasted.

George glanced again at Marisa, who was still staring out of the window expressionlessly.

Scantids were native critters on Korhal IV. They were giant scropion-like creatures, but they were very rarely aggressive. Typically, you could even shoot them for target practice and they wouldn't fight back. Scantids were docile, and there was absolutely no reason to use violent force against a bunch of harmless animals.

“Who the hell took a torch to a bunch of a scantids?!” He was suddenly furious.

「George, dude. Those critters fuckin’ attacked us. It was weird as hell!」

「Never seen anything like it!」

“You set a civilian ranch on fire because a bunch of bugs spooked you?”

「Calm your tits, Georgina. It’s just a bit of col-lat-er-al damage. Nothing our good old friends at the Fire Department can’t fix. Just get your new gurl-friend to call 911 and send one of those big ol’ red trucks over.」

“Where the hell do you think we are, Richardson? 90 minutes from Harpsville? A wildfire like that is going to burn everything to crisp by the time the fire department gets here!”

George shot a deeply apologetic look at Marisa. Truthfully, he was extremely ashamed. After everything that he had said about protecting Marisa and her family, his own squad went and set the woman's farm on fire. He didn't know what else to say. There was no way to defend himself. 

"I'm sorry," he told her. "I have to go. If the fire reaches the house, please evacuate."

The hellion officer ran out the door, leaving the 22-year-old ranch owner standing helplessly by the kitchen window.

Lilian was still tugging at Marisa's arm.

The terran was having a long mental conversation with the primal zerg mother.

"Nafiori... why?" Marisa whispered underneath her breath.

 The only reason why these turn of events occurred was because Nafiori intended for it to happen. Scantids did not attack soldiers for no reason, and Marisa had a strong suspicion that Nafiori had somehow manipulated the critters. Moreover, Nafiori had the capacity and drones to put out the fire if she wanted to, but she was letting the inferno burn.

The zerg mother didn’t have to do this.

If Nafiori sat quietly and stayed hidden underground, it was highly unlikely that the hellion officers would find anything connecting them to the zerg. In fact, that was the plan that they agreed on in advance, and Marisa thought that everything was going smoothly. If they kept the charade going for a few more minutes, it was likely that the scouting party would have left on their own accord.

«Brood safe. Everything good. Alternate nest cluster prepared.» Nafiori told Marisa calmly.

But the whole ranch is on fire, and attacking the officers accomplished nothing.

She hadn't even injured any of the hellion officers.

Marisa simply didn't understand it, but Nafiori reassured her that the situation was under control.

Although the zerg mother did not say it explicitly, Nafiori was the queen.

She was the one pulling the strings and directing the symphony, and her command was the ultimate law. At the end of the day, Marisa was just a pawn in a puppet show, and she could never defy Nafiori's will. As a terran, Marisa wanted to think that that they were partners — parents jointly united in a common goal of raising a child together — but this way of thinking is unmistakably human.

It was a fantasy that didn't exist, or an illusion that she could indulge in, but it would never be true.

The Zerg had no concept of marriage or love.

The Zerg bore trillions of offspring and sent them to their deaths, all for the sake of greater evolution.

Nafiori was an ancient creature millions of years old, and she was heartless by terran standards.

However, she was intelligent and cunning beyond human comprehension. If she could be so arrogant to say so, Nafiori considered herself to be the wisest among all her cousins and all the primal zerg of Zerus. Dehaka was stronger than her and Silvan hatched more eggs, but none of them came close when it came to a battle of minds and intellect.

Everything was going exactly according to plan.