Lexi had placed away the medkit and was walking back to her quarters where, to her confusion, David and Soto stood blocking the door.
“What’s goin’ on?” asked Lexi.
David was leaning on Lexi’s door with his arms crossed, and pointed to the firebat still clad in armor. “Soto, told me she saw something interesting when she found you.”
Sweat prickled at Lexi’s scalp. “What did she see?” she asked, the picture of calm.
‘The hell am I supposed to say?’
“She told me she saw you protecting a protoss. An actual protoss.”
“Ain’t she brain-panned?” asked Lexi weakly.
David waved a finger at Lexi, “Ok, let me set the record straight. Soto may be withdrawn and has a one-track mind with no sense of self-preservation and a really bad case of pyromania, but she’s not schizophrenic. She doesn’t make up shit, especially a story of a woman who stopped her from frying a protoss in the barbed wire.”
David seemed set on believing Soto. There might be no way out of this.
But then again, was it so bad? Carnivek had been somewhat helpful for now and she didn’t want to sell him out, but what was the worst that could happen now that someone knew about her protoss secret? He might even be helpful…
“Why didn’t she say nothin’ until now?” snapped Lexi, ratting herself out at this point.
David paused, then shrugged. “That was the brain-panning. Where’s the protoss?”
“What’re you plannin’ to do about that?” asked Lexi.
The Tarsonian man spluttered, “W-Well, that depends… on a lot of things. What were you doing with a freaking protoss?”
“It’s complicated,” said Lexi. Then she thought about it, and added, “Well, he showed up outta nowhere and was fixin’ to help me find mah sister.”
David blinked, “Why is he helping you?”
“He’s helpin’ me in return for… ‘tribute. I think he’s after my family’s treasure.”
“Why?”
“Whaddya mean why?”
“Why is he after your treasure? Wait, you have treasure?”
Lexi slapped her face, having spoken too much after being caught like a deer in lights. “Shucks. Look, David. I’m askin’ again. Whatcha gonna do about it?”
Soto’s raspy voice sounded from her suit’s speakers. The taciturn firebat startled Lexi, saying, “I’ll burn him.”
David grabbed Soto’s arm, “Woah! Chill Soto, let’s slow down first.”
He spoke to Lexi, “Look, man. I don’t like the protoss. I was there on Tarsonis when they came guns blazing. You’re saying you have a protoss friend?”
“I hesitate to use the word ‘friend’, but he’s with me,” answered Lexi.
David pondered his next words. “Ok, look. I’m not gonna freak out and tell everyone. Not everyone would believe Soto like I do. Is this protoss going to start shit here?”
“No,” said Lexi.
‘Hopefully not.’
“Where is he?” asked David.
“You wanna meet him?” asked Lexi.
“Uh.” David scratched his head. “Damn, I think I should. If you’re going to be staying here, and he’s around you, I ought to know.”
“Can we please do this tomorrow?” yawned Lexi. “I think he’s not in the mood for chatter, and I’m tuckered out. Since I’m not goin’ anywhere, neither is he.”
David nodded. “Alright. I’ll wait for tomorrow.”
“Don’t tell anyone!” pleaded Lexi.
“I doubt anyone else would believe me.”
-Next Morning-
-New Wuhan, Dominion Forge City-
“By order of General Warfield, work has started.”
Megaphone towers throughout the city projected the voice of the Chief Foreman from the industrial district, signaling the men and women of the city to leave their quarters and march to the factories near the heart of New Wuhan, the city where smokestacks rose with skyscrapers in equal stature.
By the thousands they marched to earn their pay, for it was essential for every man and woman to work in the city of laborers to put rice and bread on the table.
Everyday, they wore goggles and wrapped themselves in thick cloth, covered head-to-toe with gloves and boots. They started in the streets before climbing stairs that took them to elevated grated platforms raised over the streets where hover cars flowed.
A deep horn blared and echoed around the worn, scratched black neo-steel buildings. The voice of the Chief Foreman followed.
“Brace yourselves! The sandstorm is here!”
Thousands of windows slammed shut. Rows of street stores pulled down metal garage doors, and the average city-denizen retreated indoors before a wave of fine sand, taller than the skyscrapers and smokestacks, washed over the city.
The bright, hot sun vanished, as if a thick, dry fog blanketed the world. Lights flashed on for the platform and its railing, guiding the workers to their factories as the sand buffeted their thick jumpsuits and slipped through the grates below their sanded boots.
At ground level, the hover cars continued to drive unabated as they levitated over the sand piling in the streets. Floodlights built atop tall, black street lamps switched on to pierce the sandy veil with the power provided by the city’s fusion cores. In the commercial stores, restaurants, and tea shops, people not subsumed to labor continued their lives protected by glass, concrete, and metal.
After half an hour of raging sand, the ever present voice of the Chief Foreman addressed the city.
“Sandstorm is over. Keep moving, people!”
-Matsudaira Estate Suite-
Metal blinds and dust screens parted to the side, slowly through electronic motors, so General Horace Warfield could once again see New Wuhan. From the skyscraper’s great height on the balcony to gaze down the sand dusted streets. Already the people opened their shops and walked through the sandy streets while large, powerful street sweepers worked to clear the city amidst the ground traffic. The workers continued to march in an endless river on elevated platforms, having weathered the storm.
“Tell me,” said the wrinkled, dark-skinned, pepper-haired man wearing his uniform, black with gold-trim, impressive epaulets, medals, and aiguillettes. He turned away from the balcony’s railing to face the homeowner. “Why do so many people live in this wasteland?”
Inside, there was no artificial light, casting shadows as the only light allowed inside the living abode was clay-orange daylight as desert dust still hovered outside, repelled by fans.
Half-shrouded in darkness, Konrad Matsudaira, a man of small stature who seemed just as old as Warfield, sat on his knees atop a mat at a chabudai, a short table where he poured boiling water into a teapot. Eyes fixed on his task of calm, he responded to Warfield’s question with an inquiry, “You wonder why we are not living in the mountains, like the capital, Chozu. Why we chose to settle in large numbers in the middle of sandstorm lands.”
“Or why 500 million people live on this ball of dust and rock,” confirmed Warfield. He looked out to the dusty city again. “This city is on flat, rocky land. I can see how that’s good for heavy industry, but there’s way more people here than what should be typical for an industrial city. Mar Sara’s population can’t even compare, but it relies on mining just like Canton. Why haven’t all these people moved to other core worlds?”
Matsudaira’s lips were thin as he inserted the teapot’s lid. “Only a decade ago, after the Guild Wars, were the monks in the mountains allowed to own ships that could warp out of this system, for ‘religious purposes’. Besides them, there is only one way anyone can get on or off Canton.”
“New Busan,” answered Warfield, referring to the distant starport city which all major Cantonian cities were connected to by road and rail. None of the other cities were connected to each other; they all only had a connection to New Busan. This made it hell for Warfield to quickly reinforce the other cities because they had to pass through New Busan first.
If the UED captured New Busan, they would own the planet. Warfield was here at New Wuhan because most of the UED forces seemed to be eyeing up this particular city.
“The Tyran Old Family,” continued Matsudaira.
“The family with the roosters?” interrupted Warfield.
“Yes. Shortly after Tarsonis was settled, settlers from Tarsonis colonized Canton with Tyran patronage, and they assumed control over the colony. They kept us trapped on this planet to work the factories for their profit, and they brought prisoner ships to populate the settlements with convicts. We were slaves for free labor, unable to escape endless toil.”
Warfield could only offer a somber nod in sympathy. “The Confederacy is over. We can rebuild Canton and make it a thriving workshop world—.”
Even having taken off his boots before entering Matsudaira’s home, by the cantonian’s request, Warfield’s heavy footsteps thumped the wood floor as he approached and sat, cross-legged, on the other side of the chabudai table.
“—once we deal with the earthling invaders.”
Even when sitting at the same level, Warfield gazed down at the smaller man. Warfield’s back was to the balcony, so his face was shaded and his great stature cast a shadow over Matsudaira’s smaller, tanned body.
Matsudaira poured tea into two porcelain cups. “To do that, we have to continue producing weapons for you and the Dominion.”
Warfield waited for Matsudaira to finish pouring his own cup before he took his steaming drink. “Surely, we are both on the same page of resisting Earth Imperialism?”
Matsudaira held the steaming teacup to his chin. “General, New Wuhan needs more food. The rations shared by your army does not meet the worker’s calorie needs. A strike is imminent.”
The Dominion general grimaced. “War with the UED has compromised the sector’s economy and supply chains. I can barely requisition enough food from the rest of the Dominion to feed my fighting men here, let alone your people. The fleet is still contesting the UED in this system.”
Matsudaira frowned, sipped his tea, then gently set it on the table. He stared at Warfield’s darkened orbs. “Then we must stop production.”
Warfield’s brow rose, “That’s not possible. We need the tanks, guns, ships, everything neosteel cast from the factories on Canton to replace our losses, starting here. We’re fighting the UED with everything we’ve got.”
“If the workers continue at this intense pace,” countered Matsudaira, “we will soon starve. Reducing the quota may delay catastrophe until your fleet feeds us.”
“If the quotas are not met, no one may get fed at all,” answered Warfield.
Matsudaira’s hand swept across the table, shattering his empty tea cup against the metal wall and prompting both men to stand up.
Matsudaira hissed, “If you cannot look after our most basic needs, then what was the point of throwing our lot with the Sons of Korhal? The Emperor has fled Korhal, the UED is in control of the Dominion capital. How can you protect us from anything, let alone basic malnutrition, when our leader scurried to hide in the dark?”
Warfield continued to glare sternly at Matsudaira’s face, half-cast in Warfield’s shadow. The general glanced at the red-orange outdoors amidst the black skyscrapers, bringing his own face halfway to light.
“I cannot protect your people if my men fight on empty stomachs,” said Warfield. He pointed outside to the light outside. “Every terran is suffering in this war, between your workers on rations and my soldiers risking their very lives on the field. Enduring this war against oppression is inevitable for all of us. Not one of us is exempt from weathering this storm.”
Before either man could speak further, a young black-haired woman wearing a black steel-pressed jingasa, light body armor, and a dusty desert cloak entered the room, carrying a C-10 canister rifle.
She nodded to each of them. “General Warfield. Father.”
“Hello, Ammy,” greeted Warfield cordially.
“Daughter. Have you done reconnaissance for the UED siege line eastward?” asked the elder Matsudaira, hiding his irateness with Warfield.
“Yes, Father. I scouted as much as I could in the darkness of dawn. They haven’t moved, not really doing anything,” said Ammy. “They’re just sitting there, and their build up is very gradual. I’m pretty sure we could mass produce more tanks, barricades, and mines compared to the rate they’re congregating East of the city.” She placed her sniper rifle on the kitchen counter. “What could the enemy be planning?”
Warfield rubbed his graying stubble, “The UED leadership has previously launched lightning strikes on our outposts and mining bases. It’s unusual that they would waste time gathering for a siege here, where I’m stationed to match them. I’d expect them to try hitting another location.”
“So they have some sort of design for New Wuhan,” said Matsudaira. “Will your army be ready for the UED’s machinations?”
Warfield hid his displeasure and nodded, “I frankly don’t know what they’re doing at a glance. We have enough guns and fortifications that an assault is suicide, and we’re able to prevent them from completely encircling the city and cutting us off from New Busan’s supply trains. I’ve also constructed token missile turrets to both defend the city from air strikes and scan for ghosts, which we know the UED is using on Canton.”
“If they try anything in this city, I’ll shoot them dead,” declared Ammy with fierce determination, “Just like I shot that Tyran tyrant dead on Tarsonis.”
“What are you referring to?” asked Warfield, somewhat intrigued with his lost homeworld being referenced. “I wasn’t near Tarsonis for a while before… it fell.”
Matsudaira Sr. bowed his head, “I apologize again for your loss, general.” He clamped a hand on Ammy’s shoulder with a smile, “My daughter got a tip from a Sons of Korhal mole and assassinated Christabella Tyran at a starport in Tarsonis city, as part of the greater wave of attacks against the rotten, corrupt Old Families.”
Warfield just nodded, “She killed the ruler of Canton. I see. I don’t approve of the tactics, even if I heavily disapprove of the Old Families.”
“We avenged Canton that day,” said Ammy. “I don’t regret it.”
“It’s in the past,” conceded Warfield. “I trust that we are working together under the Dominion today?”
Ammy crossed her arms, “Against the UED? Of course. I doubt the earthlings would care for us anymore than a terran government. They’d probably care even less if they took over. Why would some old hacks on Earth care about us?”
“The Dominion must uphold its promise to care for the people,” said Matsudaira. “We have yet to see our Emperor’s mandate be delivered for Canton… if the Emperor is even alive.”
General Warfield picked up his military cap, “Nothing comes easy at the start, Mr. Matsudaira. Just remember that so long as Canton is producing the weapons to fight our enemy, it’s worth something to the Dominion.”
“So long as the minerals come in,” said Ammy.
Lexi was still rubbing her eyes as she led David and Soto up the mountain path, past the goats and the inert lantern posts. She groaned wearily, not looking forward to however their meeting with Carnivek would proceed. How do you introduce a terran to a protoss?
“Would he attack us?” asked David.
“He…” she trailed, thinking back to her first encounter when she thought Carnivek was going to kill her in their first meeting… or the time he actually threatened to kill her in the desert. “He hasn’t attacked me.”
“That doesn’t sound comforting.”
“And yet you’re comin’ along,” said Lexi.
David lowered the shotgun resting on his shoulders, “Better to be safe than sorry. I’m actually surprised you asked me to bring a weapon. I thought you’d ask me not to..”
Lexi chuckled, “When it comes to this protoss… I think the talk’ll go more smoothly if you’re packing heat.”
“Does that mean he’s a pushover?” asked David hopefully.
“No. After what I’ve seen I’m sure he can easily kill you and Soto.”
He shook his shotgun, “Then what’s this for?”
“I suspect he responds best to those who speak loudly and carry big sticks,” answered Lexi. She then added, “No matter what, don’t drop your weapon.”
“Has he messed with your mind?” asked David.
Lexi pondered the question while they continued walking. Carnivek had definitely played mind games with his freaky ability to instill supernatural terror in her plastic heart, or the time he intruded on her dreams. Who knows if the psychic alien did something to her, as many terrans speculate and fear?
“Even if I was, so what? There’s no deception here. I’m gonna show you there is a protoss, and you’re gonna meet one. It’s up to all of us to make this go smoothly without anyone getting permanently maimed.”
David exhaled nervously.
Soto silently marched the entire time.
Eventually the tree stopped at the cherry blossom at the end of the path. Lexi did a double-take after seeing the blossoms now stripped from the naked tree, with whatever remained stamped into the dirt around the tree.
“Is he hiding?” asked David.
Lexi cupped her hands and shouted, confident that no other terran should know the name, “Carnivek! Are you here?!”
Her voice echoed over the misty mountains.
“You bring Terrans here,” said Carnivek in her mind. “What happened?”
Lexi circled around, at first thinking she’d heard him with her ears. “Where’re ya at?” she asked aloud, to David’s confusion.
“Speak to me with your mind, terran.”
‘Carnivek?’ thought Lexi.
“I hear you. Now explain.”
“They found out last night. Soto saw us together in the barbed wire.”
“The one who spews fire? I thought the incident was forgotten.”
“I know, right? She only brought it up yesterday.”
“Why are you just standing there?” asked David.
Carnivek asked next, “Are they your allies?”
“I think they can help us,” answered Lexi.
“Help? Did you tell them about the tribute?!”
“... I might have.”
David suddenly tensed up and lowered his shotgun. “Shit! Did you feel that?”
Lexi felt it too, that same suffocating fear… only this time it didn’t feel as suffocating. “Yeah.”
“You feel it too, Soto?”
“No,” rasped Soto.
“What the fuck…” hissed David. “It’s getting closer!”
Carnivek’s ‘pressure’ allowed Lexi to perfectly anticipate him crawling from the edge of the cliff by his talons, one black-armored and the other bandaged in white, then pulling over the edge onto his feet.
In broad daylight he still was truly imposing, standing tall despite his injured arm, and carrying his dagger-axe just as tall as he was. With one swipe, he could hack David who shuddered with his shotgun aimed at Carnivek.
“Fuck! Holy shit!” screamed David, who’s shouting prompted Soto to raise her flame-gauntlets and lower her black-tinted visor.
Lexi flinched when Carnivek started pointing his dagger-axe close to her face. “What made you think telling other terrans about the tribute bore any semblance of intelligence?! They will covet it! Who else did you tell?!”
Lexi stared stunned at Carnivek in fear… for several seconds before she mustered her courage, clenched her teeth, and pushed away his dagger-axe with indignation. “Don’t go pointin’ that in mah face, Carnivek! We wanna talk, so we’re gonna talk!”
Carnivek seemed taken aback at her defiance. Lexi could feel the pressure waning.
“No one else knows,” said Lexi. “Only these two know, and they wanna help us.”
The protoss growled, “We do not require their assistance. Now that we are both well, we must go before they tell the others!”
“They’re ain’t gonna rat us out,” reassured Lexi, “We need their help. Talk to David!”
Carnivek looked to the shaking David and Soto, then back at Lexi. “Fine. We shall talk.”
He planted his dagger-axe into the dirt and held his arms behind his back, showing he was unarmed, though Lexi knew his talons could easily shred David to bits.
It wasn’t David Carnivek was wary of, though. He shot a leery glare at Soto.
Though keeping his arms behind his back, Carnivek spread out his cybernetic legs, which audibly clicked and whirred, ready to spring to action. “Does the fire-spitter want to finish the job?”
“S-Soto,” said David. “Disengage.”
The firebat tilted their visor to David before relaxing and removing the black-tint visor.
“Carnivek,” said Lexi. “Cut that out.”
“No,” said Carnivek, continuing to exert pressure as he stomped toward David, who slowly raised his shotgun as the protoss’ face loomed closer.
Soto diligently did not react. It was as if she no longer registered Carnivek’s presence.
Carnivek was now looking down at David. “Drop it,” he commanded.
David’s hands loosened for a split second, but he doubled-back. “No. I won’t,” he breathed, sweat running down his scalp as his eyes flickered to a watchful Lexi.
Carnivek hummed.
Lexi suddenly felt the pressure stop. She let loose the breath she’d been holding.
David was still shaking, though he too must have noticed the psychic veil had lifted. “W-What was that?” he gasped, noticeably starting to calm.
Seeing David’s reaction suddenly filled Lexi with confidence. This time she was the one in the know. She wasn’t the one shaking in her boots this time!
“You kept your nerve,” said Carnivek, who pointed to Lexi. “Unlike this whelp.”
Lexi, who enjoyed only a few seconds of relief, scowled indignantly. “You was threatenin’ to kill me. I’m waitin’ for an apology.”
“No. I do not apologize to insecure weaklings.”
“Oh yeah?”
She walked up to Carnivek and rapped her knuckles on an invisible psi-shield that then flickered bright red and rang like glass.
“Ow!” hissed Lexi shaking her hand, not expecting such resistance that it stung. “Look who’s talkin’. You had a shield up this entire time.”
Carnivek glared at her, before allowing his barrier to be sucked back into the red crystals in his armor. He then looked expectantly at David.
David finally allowed himself to point the shotgun away. “Holy shit. I’m standing in front of a protoss.”
Carnivek scoffed and bared his one armored hand. “Am I not a fine specimen, primitive?”
“Why did you invade terran space?” immediately shot David.
Carnivek blinked in confusion. “What-?” Then he scowled, “Ah, this again. Listen aptly. All those shiny weaklings with their golden ships so bright it hurts my eye? I am not of their paltry tribe. I am Tal’darim. I am forged in carnage and war! Yes. Do not ask me again about the affairs of the heretics.”
Lexi took charge and said, “Look, there’s no need to ask more about Carnivek. That’s his name by the way.”
“So…,” trailed David. “You’re not here for any nefarious alien purposes?”
Carnivek rolled his eyes. “I am now bored of your fellow Terrans. I will not talk to them. Tell me why we require their assistance.”
Lexi sighed, “I was hopin’ to get a ship straight to Tyrador, but I got a message from the Abbot sayin’ they really can’t spare any more ships.”
It was a major disappointment for Lexi to wake up earlier in the morning only to receive a note that Tyrador was not interested in trading food for minerals with cantonian monks.
“So how do we get off this planet?!”
David spoke up, “I talked with Lexi. You gotta-”
“Did I permit you to speak?” threatened Carnivek. “No.”
David was cowed into silence.
Lexi sighed. “We actually need them folks to take us all the way to New Busan and acquire a starship there.”
“Can we not do it ourselves?” asked Carnivek.
“No. As a monk, David’s got credentials that can get us on the trains.”
“So we must truly be shackled to them?”
“Yes, Carnivek,” confirmed an exasperated Lexi.
“No…,” Carnivek groaned, then jabbed a sharp finger at David. “State your name,” he snapped.
“David.” He pointed. “And she’s Soto.”
“And what is wrong with her?” asked Carnivek. “Was she born dumb?”
“What?” frowned David. “No!”
“Then why did I almost mistake the fire-spitter for a robot? I had to check twice to ensure her psionic signature was tied to an actual living being. Her mind is nothing but fog.”
“She was neurally resocialized,” answered Lexi.
“What does that entail?’ asked Carnivek.
Lexi explained, “My knowledge in neuroscience taught me about the process. They basically strapped her to a machine, suppressed her old memories, and overlapped them with new ones. That’s how she became a firebat, and a perfectly compliant soldier.”
Carnivek narrowed his eyes as Soto. “Interesting. Tampering of one’s memories. How barbaric. Yes.”
Lexi and David both raised their brows at Carnivek’s statement.
“Barbaric? You think it’s barbaric?” David asked the Tal’darim.
“Not only is it barbaric, it is base. You cannot sharpen your skills through mechanical substitution.”
He circled Soto, who didn’t move, then kicked her in the back.
She stumbled forward before righting herself, as if nothing happened.
“How droll,” said Carnivek. “Will we get transportation to our destination, primitives?”
“I can get us a truck,” answered David. “It’ll have enough guns and armor to keep us safe from any bandits… or military scouts.”
“Is it a ship?” asked Carnivek.
Lexi answered, “No, it’s a land vehicle.”
Carnivek rolled his eyes. “Pathetic. We must leave at once. Yes.”
“Give us a few minutes to pack up,” said Lexi.
Carnivek growled, before sitting at the ledge. “Do not dawdle. Go.”
“Come, Soto,” said David.
“Dr. Lexi Nguyen,” said Carnivek. “We must talk.”
David stopped with concern, but Lexi waved him off. “I’ll be alright.”
He frowned, but left with Soto.
Carnivek watched them leave the slope until they left his detection, before bearing down on Lexi. “He knows about the tribute?”
“Yes,” said Lexi.
“And how did you solicit his assistance? Did you promise him a share of the wealth? Yes?”
“Yes, he wants to bring it here to provide relief for all the refugees.”
Carnivek stood taller to look down at the temple-fort below them. “Yes. So much suffering and death. Such pitiful existence for these creatures, miserable in their squalor.” He faced Lexi, eyes glowing grim. “I will not hand over a single piece of the tribute to those who allowed themselves to fall so low. They had their chance in life. It is not your duty to shelter them. Yes… There is always more to take their place.”
Lexi felt herself glaring at Carnivek’s words, but said nothing.
She had contemplated the possibility that she could get rid of Carnivek after finding Desiree to keep the treasure for herself, but it seemed impossible to scheme against him when he had eyes on her back and ears in her head.
David would help them, then Carnivek might very well kill him for all his efforts.
The protoss can take everything. They’ve already taken everything else that could matter. She’ll give the tribute, all of it to Carnivek, so long as he fulfills his end of the deal.
-New Wuhan, Warfield’s Command Center-
“Any word about the Emperor?” asked Warfield, now standing in the central command room.
His aide, Benjamin, shook his curly brown hair. “We lost contact with Norad III… at Aiur.”
Warfield furrowed his brows and shook his head, “Aiur? What the hell is the Emperor doing on Aiur?”
“We don’t know. That was Norad III’s last known location after the UED occupied Korhal, and they confirmed the Emperor escaped, but we don’t know what happened to them afterward. We have no Dominion eyes on Aiur.”
Warfield pinched the bridge of his nose. “Everything’s a mess. We have no capital, the Emperor is on the run, and I’m stuck here defending this forge-world.”
“General,” broached Benjamin nervously, “we’ve got some clashes with the civilians and soldiers attempting to distribute rations.”
Warfield glared, “How did we handle them this time?”
“Damaged power armor and injured civilians. No casualties reported.”
The General sighed and leaned against a control panel with eyes closed. Command center staff watched the General with concern.
Benjamin stood up, “Want to try the noodles we got in the mess hall? We hired some chefs to make them for the soldiers.”
Of course Benjamin would notice Warfield hadn’t eaten yet. “A good idea, Benjamin.”
The two descended two floors into the command center's cafeteria where the rich smell of broth and noodles enticed the hungry general to get in line.
Three cantonian chefs were standing behind their tables with pots, vegetables, and noodles.
“I’m honored to serve your men. Try the chow mein! Delicious stir-fried sauces and vegetables!”
“Chashu ramen broth is very fulfilling, even with ration ingredients!”
“Pho noodles are good for your body and soul! Great for men of war!”
Warfield scanned the three cantonian noodles unfamiliar to his tastes. “Which one is good, Benjamin?”
Benjamin shrugged, “I don’t really have a preference, I think all three are good.”
“Hm.”
Warfield took a bowl and scooped a bundle of chow mein noodles.
The chow mein chef smirked at the other two noodle chefs, “The general approves of my cooking—.”
Warfield approached the ramen chef to his confusion, before scooping ramen broth and noodles into his bowl, adding to the chow mein.
“What are you doing?!” shrieked the chow mein chef.
The ramen chef pursed his lips, sweating through his bandana but silent.
Warfield ignored their reactions as he walked up to the pho chef and scooped the broth and white noodles
The pho chef screamed, “NO! How could you mix my perfect beef broth with his pork slop?!
“Why would you soil stir-fry in soup?!” cried the chow mein chef. “It’s ruined! Ruined!”
The ramen chef continued to stand stoically, though tears ran down his face.
Warfield walked past a flabbergasted Benjamin and sat at the table before slurping the triple noodle combo.
-Chozu Mountain Capital, Tyran Residence Aurelius’ HQ-
Aurelius Hai sat at the end of the dining table, the centerpiece and host of lunch with Chozu’s bureaucratic elite. Wearing her prim and wrinkle-free green uniform, the UED general scooped a spoonful of exotic soup with her clean, white-gloved hand. “How fascinating that you have shark-fin soup all the way out here in space,” observed Aurelius. “This is a very expensive dish from my home. How surprising.”
She cast her amber eyes from the soup, “Where did you get the shark fins?”
Alois sat at the middle of the dark wooden dining table, long enough for twelve seats on either side, to Aurelius’ right. The mansion’s maids and butler stood dutifully around the table which was fully occupied by men wearing three piece suits and women with gowns and hats.
The dining hall was moody, owing to the misty outdoor light filtering in high windows to reflect off white walls. There was enough ambient light to not warrant the need for artificial lighting.
The maids offered to turn on the lights, but Aurelius declined. Her guards stood stiff as statues behind the maids, half-shrouded in darkness.
He put on a smile and answered, “We’ve got a biodome in the Unha undercity down below Chozu to grow sharks in large pools. They take a long time to mature so there’s only enough to feed a few dozen people.” He continued to talk, an action that evidently he was comfortable with, “We almost lost our entire shark stock once not long ago.”
Aurelius raised a shaped and neat brunette brow, uncertain if Alois was going to waste time with nonsense, but it could be worthwhile to entertain him and build rapport. “How did that happen, Mr. Tyran?”
“During the Guild Wars, the common folks caused a ruckus and nearly broke into the biodome lookin’ to eat all the sharks. Fortunately, law enforcement stopped them from eatin’ the sharks and wreckin’ the rest of Unha. There was no way they’d get into Chozu, the mountains were too well guarded.”
“Someone remind me, when did the Guild Wars take place?” asked Aurelius, already knowing the answer.
“85 to 89, Miss Hai,” answered a male bureaucrat.
“Thank you. So a decade ago, the people were willing to break the law… to eat some sharks?”
She watched the bureaucrats squirm nervously. Something was taboo.
Alois was tight lipped while a female bureaucrat conceded, “Yes, there was a famine unfortunately caused by the Guild Wars. Pirates and Kel-Morians prevented us from shipping in more food.”
Aurelius brought out her gold-trimmed, dragon-carved wooden swagger stick and bounced it slowly on the edge of the table as she looked upon them.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“How odd that this planet lacks enough hydroponics to feed 500 million people. Which came first, the famine, or the strikes that happened around the same time according to my research?”
She could see the Cantonian maids, though standing at attention with hands held in front of them, shooting glances at her.
Alois looked to Aurelius, though his head hung low. “Them strikes have been an element of Canton for decades. This planet was a penal colony where the Confederates brought criminals and convicts. Sometimes those lawbreakers get rowdy and we’ve gotta discipline them, even when the planet has food.”
Aurelius processed the words that came out of Alois’ mouth.
For now, it’d be best to not lose her guests, who were now surely sweating from Aurelius’ tacit accusation.
So she changed her focus. “General Falkenhausen, why don’t you ask the chef for some shark fin soup?”
General von Falkenhausen glanced over at Aurelius' soup and wrinkled his nose. “Nein. I will pass.”
“You’re missing out,” said Aurelius. She held a glass of wine in her gloved hand and faced her guests. “When the UED defeats the Dominion rabble, the colonial administration will depend on the work of intelligent people such as yourselves to ensure a functioning, united terran body that can fight and destroy the aliens. The UED recognizes your skills, and so I will ensure you can keep your jobs under my supervision as colonial governor, safe from commoners and greater government oversight alike. Canton is a populated core world that can produce the weapons and the ships we need to ensure humanity’s everlasting existence.”
The bureaucrats nodded and expressed their assent, whether or not they actually supported the UED. It didn’t matter to her.
So long as these people were surrounded by Aurelius’ marines, they would obey her until they lost all ties to the old Dominion regime, and depend on her to sweep everything under the rug.
“To defeat the Dominion, we will need as much minerals as can be gathered on Canton. I understand that this world is covered in mineral fields created by man-made meteor impacts, yet you all expressed hesitation to harvest the minerals just sitting in the desert. Alois, why is that so?”
Alois scratched an ear. “We done attempted to harvest the minerals ourselves, but every sequester attempt agitates the cantonians like stickin’ your hand in a hive of angry bees.”
“Fascinating,” hummed Aurelius. She snapped her fingers, catching everyone’s attention, and pointed. “What is your name?”
A maid flinched stiffly, glancing around wondering if she missed something as the bureaucrats and Alois eyeballed the girl as if they'd never seen her before. “Me?” she spoke softly.
“Yes, what is your name?”
The maid bowed. “Tsubaki.”
“Tsubaki, can you elaborate on what Mr. Tyran said?” requested Aurelius with a smile.
“Um. I have relatives in cities like New Wuhan. We depend on the ice asteroids to get minerals for the factories, so they can get rice or credits. If they can’t produce anything, they don’t get anything in return.”
“So the average Cantonian must export industrial goods to put food on the table.”
Tsubaki nodded, “Yes.”
“And the Dominion knows this?”
Tsubaki stuttered, “Th-The Dominion allows the mineral miners to bring the minerals to the cities. They get what they want from the factories in the end.”
Aurelius turned away from Tsubaki, leaving her and the maids to whisper amongst themselves so Aurelius could silence the whispering of the bureaucrats with her gaze.
She smiled at them, but truly it was for herself as she schemed, caressing the gold on her stick.
General von Falkenhausen approached Aurelius and leaned close to whisper, “Mein General, Admiral DuGalle wants to speak to you.”
Aurelius whispered back, “Project: Black Flag?”
“Ja.”
Aurelius’ smile widened. She faced the guests, beaming. “I must apologize, ladies and gentlemen. I have important matters to attend to. The maids will escort you out, please take a goodie bag as a token of goodwill from the UED.”
It wasn’t until Alois meekly asked the butler to carry out Aurelius’ command did the maids act out their trained routine of seeing the guests out with cordial smiles.
Aurelius remained seated as she watched the bureaucrats leave, until it was just her, von Falkenhausen, and Alois.
“You are excused, Mr. Tyran,” said Aurelius, not even looking at him as she wore her peaked cap. “You and your staff will be escorted outdoors.”
“Ah,” he bowed his head anxiously before pacing away with a guard behind him. “Alrighty then.”
With Alois gone, the guards closed every window and shut every door, cutting off all gray light from the room.
Heatless, artificial flames flickered from silver candelabras providing medieval luminance and casting orange shadows across Aurelius’ face. Her face remained dark until Falkenhausen placed his thick laptop on the table, pressed a few buttons, and projected onto the dining table a green life-sized, holographic projection of Admiral DuGalle.
The gaunt frenchman gazed down at the seated Aurelius and von Falkenhausen standing, both reflecting green light, and moved his arms behind his back. “General Hai. General von Falkenhausen.”
Aurelius and von Falkenhausen saluted. “Admiral DuGalle,” addressed Aurelius. “We both would like to express our deepest condolences for Stukov’s noble sacrifice, we know he was your dear friend.”
Aurelius barely noticed DuGalle raising his arms higher behind his back, and the subtle way his boots shifted.
‘Did something happen?’
“He performed his duty honorably. While we are preparing his funeral procession, we must move on from his death and use what he died for. The Overmind is now under our control. The zerg threat is no more.”
“Mein god,” breathed von Falkenhausen.
“Is it not time to openly declare our greatest triumph over the dreadful zerg swarm?” asked Aurelius. “The propaganda value would be immense.”
“Not yet, General Hai. We must test our control over the zerg broods.” DuGalle looked down at Aurelius sternly, standing tall atop the dining table with his arms still held back. “You know why you were selected for this expedition.”
“With a promotion and an infusion of credits, not a word will come from my lips, Admiral,” promised a smirking Aurelius, her eyes twinkling green.
“I will send you one of our top zerg scientists. Host him well, let him work, and the feral zerg on Canton will fall under UED control. Use the Swarm to destroy the Dominion. After we observe the performance of our zerg on the field, then we will make the sector wide announcement of our domination of the Overmind.”
“Of course, Admiral.”
“See to it,” said DuGalle, before he vanished off the table and the room was dim orange again.
Von Falkenhausen paced around Aurelius who was still seated at the dining table ponderously rubbing a thumb over her stick’s gold trim. He enthused, “This is most fascinating, mein General. Imagine how much tactical and strategic foresight we can glean from the zerg under human control, I must prepare my notes.”
“Indeed, Alex,” said Aurelius, who finally stood up and grabbed the gray sleeved forearm of the excited general. “You must plan well, then we will live like kings.”
She raised a finger, “Recall my brother to New Wuhan.”
“Should he not meet with the scientist as well?” asked Falkenhausen.
“Tell no one about the scientist,” ordered Aurelius. “Not yet.”
Alois sat on the smooth dark rocks by the artificial blue river running through Chozu, with his staff idling closeby and the UED guards watching from a respectable distance.
A boy walked by one of the maids, who then shuffled with the others and slipped to Alois a piece of paper.
The guards didn’t react. Good.
The children are not on Tyrador anymore. They’ve been moved.
Why were the children moved? Was it… Arturro Calabas’ contingency plan? He remembered Constantino Terra telling him about it. What was the planet again?...
He turned the paper around and scribbled with a pen he carried in his pocket.
They’re on Shi, in system called “The Baker’s Dozen”. Please retrieve, bring to Canton, Chozu.
He slipped his message to the maid.
-5 miles from the Sunder Feral Brood, near the equator-
Aurelius always sought to maintain the picture of dignity and magnificence over her subordinates, though even she couldn’t help but wilt as she stood on a UED outpost, with a tent, overlooking the feral zerg they dubbed the ‘Sunder Brood’.
While Aurelius stood mostly upright as sweat treacherously stained her green uniform, von Falkenhausen didn’t even bother with appearances as he sat slumped beside her, fanning himself with his cap.
“Explain the process to me, Mr. Bridger.”
Sterling Bridger, a scientist crazy enough to drink a cup of hot tea in this sweltering heat, answered, “It’s really quite simple.” He pointed to the zerg hive cluster with its large structures towering in the horizon. “The Overmind would normally delegate cerebrates to control its Swarm across the vastness of space. Without a cerebrate here, we’ll need another way to project the Overmind’s control.”
Aurelius saw an SCV glide forward with back-thrusters, carrying a spinning object in its arms.
“Is that a psi-emitter?” asked Aurelius.
“Correct.”
“Won’t the zerg mindlessly cluster toward it?”
“If it projected the neural imprint of a ghost, yes. Curiously, feral zerg are bloody attracted to terran psychics. But if we masked the overmind’s unique signature over the mind of a terran psychic, projected from a brain implant.” He tapped his temple. “We can control the zerg.”
“You are psychic?” asked Aurelius.
“I specialize in telepathy,” answered Bridger. “Not every psychic becomes a ghost in the UED.”
“Right,” said Aurelius. “I knew that.”
Once the psi-emitter had spun in place for several seconds, Bridger’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh. Yes! Bloody chuffed!”
Aurelius raised a brow at the scientist who seemed to be tweaking out, “What happened?”
Bridger shakily breathed as he reached out his hand toward the hive cluster. “I have them. I can hear them in my head.”
Aurelius stared in disbelief, then saw a group of zerglings and hydralisks leave their creep to approach the UED.
Bunkers were already on high alert. Ships activated their engines.
“Are you in control?” asked Aurelius, maintaining her calm exterior.
“Bloody hell, yes!” smiled Bridger, who continued to stare lovingly at the zerglings and hydralisks rapidly approaching the UED.
“Order them to stop.”
“Right.”
After a few seconds of concentration by Bridger, the zerg halted in the desert. Without orders, the zerg just stood there, maintaining their formation while occasionally scratching themselves with claws and scythe.
Von Falkenhausen stood beside them now to gawk at the scene. “You did it, Herr Bridger!”
Aurelius wanted to be absolutely sure. “Bring two zerglings and a hydralisk to us. I want to see how well you can control them.”
The three descended the watchtower as the marines warily parted for a hydralisk, with a zergling on each side, slithering toward them.
“Halt,” said Aurelius.
Aurelius’ knew her command was directly useless. It was Bridger who gave the mental order for the zerg to stop.”
“Can you control their limbs and such?”
“I’m afraid not,” confessed Bridger. “When I was studying the Overmind on Char, we could only glean a few simple commands.”
“I see.” Aurelius crossed her arms. “Mr. Bridger, go pet the big one.”
Falkenhausen side-glanced her while Mr. Bridger gave her a questioning look. The scientist’s hesitancy didn’t last long, for he soon walked towards the zerg.
The hydralisks and zerglings acknowledged him with hisses and snarls. Did they not recognize him? However the mad scientist was able to place his hand on the hydralisk’s head, very much alive and in one piece.
Mad chuckles resonated from Bridger, who turned back and beckoned, “Come, General! You must touch this magnificent creature.”
Aurelius wasn’t keen on having her life stupidly thrown away if the creature ever decided to break free from Bridger’s control. In one move, her life and career would be cut short. There was no need to touch the creature
She took a step forward.
Great fortune and power awaits if the plan concocted by her and Falkenhausen succeeds. However, it was a huge gamble, requiring many variables to go right.
She stopped at arm’s length from the hydralisk, which addressed her warily with its skull-like face and twin mandibles.
She reached out her white gloved hand.
The zerg are the most important variable. She needed them to pull off her magnum opus.
The hydralisk’s forehead was solid and firm as she first slid her fingers up, then scratched down. Rigid, yet smooth like obsidian. Organic armor infused with minerals and designed to stop modern bullets.
Aurelius released the breath she just now realized she was holding, and sucked in more stale desert air.
So that she too could laugh. She cackled, for here she was, a human in control over this alien beast, and now she can realize the fruition of her grand scheme.
She spun to point at von Falkenhausen, her great green military cape flowing with her movements. “General Falkenhausen. Prepare our forces to execute the plan. Tomorrow, we take New Wuhan and destroy the Dominion!”
General von Falkenhausen didn’t exuberate like Aurelius, but he dutifully nodded without hesitation, “Ja, mein General.”
