Part 1 Chapter 14: The Surreptitious and the Servile

2481 C.E.
CARRIER “ENTEOS”
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
HIGH ORBIT OVER PLANET 2472AU02 “ARENA”

After its unexpected victory against the unexpected enemies, the Umojan fleet had affected repairs and had checked the temple up. While the ships had their major dents covered and their most important features restored, the swarms of researchers went through the ancient structure and memorized every little bit of knowledge that it contained for future use in their attempts to find out more about the alien life. Meanwhile, Paskirov had found time to visit his only superior, Admiral McNorman.
Stepping out from the dropship that flew him to the carrier ship Enteos, the vice-admiral looked at the men awaiting him in the busy docking bay. In the midst of the activity, there was a bubble of empty space and in its centre stood the commander of the ship: Commodore Richardson in his black Umojan uniform decorated with gold linings. He saluted Paskirov as he walked forwards, but relaxed in surprise when he saw the large figure of Zaraldis, accompanied by Williams and two other ghosts follow.
'Protocol demands that your immediate subordinates, too, are present when you welcome the chief commander of the fleet when he comes,' Paskirov coldly began.
'The chief commander of this fleet is in the medical center, sir,' Richardson replied, unwilling to conflict him.
As they walked towards the medical section of the carrier, Paskirov asked with a serious tone.
'How has he been recently, commodore?'
Richardson began. 'His condition has been deteriorating, the doctors say. He refuses to eat or drink or talk. There's nothing wrong with his body, though, they inform me that it is all mental. His brain is somehow damaged, which affects his thinking. Yet, they can't find out how. We do keep him alive, of course, but it is not a pretty picture. It is as if his self has abandoned him.'
'Right. Bad news. I'd send him home to Umoja, but we don't have the ships for that. Plus, it could be bad for the men's morale,' the vice-admiral shared as the two were walking through a well-lit corridor with the rest of the group behind them. Zaraldis was inspecting the interior of the strange Terran ship with curiosity, but his demeanor was still focused.
'Have you come to tell him about the victory and the spoils personally?' Richardson inquired, throwing a suspicious glance back at the Protoss executor, who had to bend over in order to not hit the ceiling.
'I actually wanted to see if our friend Zaraldis could tell us anything about the dreadful condition of the admiral, but yes, that could work, too,' Boris smiled. Looking at Richardson's expression of his normal dislike for the aliens, Boris continued. 'I'm sure that the executor could know something about this, commodore. If the archaeologists didn't know, then perhaps he will.'
'I think nothing good will come out of this, sir,' Richardson shared.
'I know you do. But that's because you don't see the full picture,' Paskirov replied. 'Of course, neither does any of us, but, generally, I see more than you... And the admiral sees the most, by virtue of which he is the admiral.'
Very soon, the group reached McNorman's room. Paskirov took a deep breath and entered, followed by the rest. What he saw inside was not pleasing to the eye.
The admiral lay semi-conscious on the bed, looking upwards. Several thin hoses from the life support systems next to the bed were entering his hands or went under the white blanket. The vice-admiral didn't want to know what they were for.
'Sir, it is I, Boris,' he introduced himself. McNorman did not reply. 'Sir, you may have heard that we beat the fleet of the executor Zaraldis... We captured him and his captains.'
McNorman murmured something and Boris quickly bent over him, drawing his ear close to the admiral's face in an effort to hear anything but the admiral made no more sounds. Boris looked in the empty eyes and then turned to Zaraldis.
'The executor is here, admiral, as a proof for this fleet's prowess and a trophy for Umoja. Which you will have the honor of presenting.'
Nonetheless, the sick man on the bed remained ignorant of what was happening around him. Boris was reluctant to touch him and draw his attention like this, in addition to being wary of the unknown effects this could have on the admiral's condition. So, he just summoned the executor.
'Mike, ask our friend if he can tell us anything about what's going on with the admiral here.'
The ghost then focused and after a few seconds' time replied. 'No, commander, he has no clue.'
'Can't he try to read his thoughts or something? Can't you?' Paskirov said.
'Frankly, sir, the admiral's brain is pretty messed up, from what I can tell. His thoughts don't make sense. Not only disorderly, but also utterly pointless,' the ghost began explaining his observations. 'I can suppose that the Protoss sees approximately the same thing.'
Paskirov caught Richardson's skeptical sight and felt discouraged with the development of the events.
'Sir, you are wasting your time,' the commodore said.
This was a mistake.
'Commodore, so far your criticism has been as fruitless as it has been unjustified!' Paskirov raised his voice. Richardson's prejudice and ignorance had been standing in the way for too long now and it was time they were punished. 'In no normal fleet can a man of your position act like this with impunity...'
'Vice-admiral,' Richardson cut him off, accenting on the first word, 'your actions are no less mindless and lacking in reason, and if the admiral here was in consciousness, he would surely disapprove of your absurd ideas about the Protoss enemy...'
The ghosts looked at the two men arguing, but stood perfectly still.
'Commodore,' Boris seized the dialogue from him, 'I can guarantee you that if the admiral was conscious he would gladly approve of my attitude towards the Protoss and would endorse it, seeing the reason behind it. However, you, in your naivety, do not. You only bar the progress that this expeditionary fleet is trying to do in the relations between our race and that of the Protoss. Ever since...' Richardson began saying something, but Paskirov raised his hand to stop him, 'our first encounters with them have you systematically failed to see beyond your hatred. This is why I am considering you unfit for your position.'
Richardson could not believe what he was hearing.
'As of now, you are no longer in charge of the Enteos. You are demoted into the captain of the Wanderer-class ship “Hailstone.” It's current captain, Archer, a man of great merit and loyalty will get a chance to prove himself in command of this ship. Feel free to give in your uniform and leave to your new post as of now,' Paskirov cruelly finished his dreadful strike on the ex-commodore.
Richardson was just standing there, petrified.
'Admiral, can you not hear what is happening here? Can you not see where this Confederate is taking our fleet to?' he bemoaned what he was seeing. But he knew that the admiral was deaf and blind for the fate of his subordinates.
'He can't,' Paskirov remarked coldly. 'I suggest you do not waste much more time. We are leaving tomorrow and Commodore Archer will need time to inspect his new ship.'
Richardson only looked for a moment at the vice-admiral with hatred and disdain, then grabbed his service hat and threw it on the ground in front of Paskirov. Then, he left.
For a while, nobody said anything. Everybody was standing still, except for Zaraldis, who looked aside a couple of times, not caring of the people around him. Only the pings of the hospital apparatuses were heard.
'Don't you think that you are being a little too hard on him, Black One?' Williams interrupted the silence.
'I need to keep things in order, Mike. He was not standing in line. He had to be punished,' Boris remarked.
'I hope you know what you're doing, then,' the ghost said.
'Better than anyone else...' he answered pensively.
A second later, Boris leaned forward and raised the hat lying on the ground. 'Our job here is done. Let's return to the Andronikos.'
***
In the evening, the sun was setting behind the curved horizon of the planet, now nicknamed “Arena 3” by the Umojan astronomers. Boris was done with the paperwork concerning the switch of positions between Archer and Richardson, as well as the change in rank of some other officers. Then, while he was dining, urgent news came – something was wrong with McNorman.
Hearing this, he immediately left the table and hurried for the Enteos. Aboard it, Paskirov and Archer quickly entered the admiral's room in the medical sector. There were medics gathered around his bed, in addition to some new pieces of equipment.
'I am the vice-admiral. What is going on here?' Paskirov said loudly to the medics.
One of them turned to him with a sorrowful look. 'Sir, the admiral is bad. His vital signs... He is struggling to make it.'
'What's wrong?' Archer seemed frightened.
'His body's functions have been scrambled. The brain is not sending signals to his organs as it should. He is breaking up. We are trying to keep him going, but...'
'You can't?' Paskirov quickly asked, then regretted saying it.
'Well, yes. His cardiac muscle is struggling. We do not know what is going to happen now,' the doctor's face was serious beneath the surgical mask.
'I see,' the vice-admiral said quietly. 'Keep me in touch.'
A few minutes later, he was outside the medical sector, thinking what to do next. His work for the day was pretty much done, so he decided to at least finish his dinner.
'Commodore, I'll need to use your accommodation while I'm waiting for updates on the situation.'
'Of course, sir. After me.'
Fifteen minutes later, Paskirov was eating something again, when he got a message that killed the remainder of his appetite and took away all the taste of the food in his mouth. McNorman had died.
Again, he stood up and hurried to the room McNorman was in. As he entered, the remaining medics looked at him. He got to the bed. In it, there was the pale body of the admiral, still and not breathing.
'We called you when it happened. We could not restore the heart's functions, despite for our best efforts. He is dead.'
Boris felt great sorrow. The best – and only decent – superior he had had in his whole life was now dead. Fortune had just taken him away, for some reasons that Boris could not comprehend. Tomorrow would be a day of mourning and rest. He would order a break for everyone and maybe some gifts for the Protoss as a sign that the humans do not regard them outside their worries and living against the universe. After all, their friendship was necessary.
He wondered what would be best to give to the aliens. Then, he realized something strange. He realized that he could give them anything he wanted. From the common soldier's pistol to a computer, or even the sphere, anything was fine. There was nobody he had to comply with now, nobody to object to that. He was the admiral now. He was alone, and the thought of the freedom he now possessed seemed to fend off the grief for the deceased. The only thing he had to be wary of now was the enemy – the malevolent Zerg and the mad Xentus.
'Preserve the body. We will send him away these days,' the new admiral ordered. 'You've done well.'
The medic smiled. 'Thank you, sir.'
Paskirov walked away, towards the docking bay. On the way there, he waited for dinner time to end and sent a message to the command of the Andronikos to tell the whole fleet that McNorman had died and that everybody was taking a day-off tomorrow.
***
Later that evening, he was ignoring the timid congratulations on becoming the new admiral and the small ceremonial gestured that the officers were doing by protocol. He immediately went on to do some more changes regarding the changes in the fleet that resulted. He was the new admiral, so he now needed a vice-admiral. Ferguson would be that man. His qualities made him just the man for the job. Summers was to be the commander of all the ground forces. Arnold – the original vice-admiral – was given the Graf von Moltke as a sign of goodwill, which he accepted. Richardson, however, would stay where he was. He deserved his punishment.
Then, at late night, Boris was done with everything and sat back in his chair. He looked around in his room. The turtle was still there, and the photo of his girl was still there, and he wondered what did McNorman's room contain. He stood up and prepared to pay it a visit. As an admiral, there could be no secrets for him regarding the fleet.
When he turned on the lights in McNorman's cabin, he saw the former admiral's ascetic room. It contained only several basic pieces of furniture and almost no decorations. There was a photo of McNorman's family, some other books and objects of sentimental value, plus his wristwatch lying on the nightstand.
Boris sat on the bed and took the watch. Its sleek and efficient Umojan design grabbed his eye, but he put it down, determined to limit himself to just looking. He began going through all the chests and the drawers, seeing the former admiral's clothes, medicine, and small inventory of useful items. Finally, Boris got to the nightstand. Hastily opening its only drawer, he was not prepared for what he saw inside.
Placed on top of some letters and minor objects was what seemed to be a golden pendant. The next moment, he gasped, realizing it was just half a golden pendant with blue crystals encrusted in its heavy surface. He picked it up against the light and took a closer look. The ends of the half pendant had dents and seemed to had faced a really hard object. Then, he remembered and almost dropped it on the pillow.
This pendant looked the exact same way as the one that he had given the separatists. Its decorations matched the little signs on the surface of the artifact he had personally given Sealeris, and yet, it looked a bit different. It was like a mirror image of the previous thing. It was its other half.
What, in Death's name, is this doing here? he thought.
The other half of the Pendant of Namdur that the fleet had unearthed was here, in McNorman's drawer all the time. How did it come here? Where did anybody find the other half and how could he, the vice-admiral, not hear about it? And why did the admiral not tell anybody? This wasn't making sense. Unless...
Paskirov quickly called Williams. Something did not fit here and the ghost could know what it was.
'You called, Black One,' the ghost said casually when he entered the room. His mild demeanor evaporated when he saw the pendant in Paskirov's hands.
'Mike, when we were looking for the pendant down on Grenafar,' he raised the severed artifact, 'who was it that found this?'
'You know the records, admiral, it was me and four marines.'
'I'll get to the point. Did you find anything else other than that half a pendant we gave the separatists in exchange for the sphere?' Paskirov looked at the major with piercing eyes.
Williams knew that it would be pointless to keep the secret any longer. 'Y-yes, I did.'
'What was that object?'
'This thing in your hands.'
'So what we have here and what we gave Sealeris are actually the two parts of Namdur's pendant?'
'Yes, they are.'
'Then why the hell did nobody tell me this was kept here?' Boris shouted.
'Sir,' Williams began confessing, 'the previous admiral ordered me to stay quiet regarding this other half. He insisted on keeping it for the Umojans. Only me and the four other marines knew about its existence.'
'Right. Great. We should have given the full thing to those separatists, who knows what it looked like. I wonder who would have desecrated this in the tomb.'
'Actually, we did not find the pendant in this condition.'
'What?'
Williams took a deep breath. 'When we opened the lid of the sarcophagus, the pendant was in one piece. I cut it.'
'You did what?' the admiral found it hard to believe.
'Yes. With my rifle. I presume that if we put the two halves together, the marks of the bullets will be clearly visible.'
Boris was just looking at the steel wall, comprehending the information.
'Alright,' he said after some thinking. 'Keep the secret. None of the Protoss are to know about this, alright? Absolutely none of them. Otherwise they will leave our side. And I don't want neutral Dark Templar on my ships.'
'Yes, sir.'
'And I want to know who the other four marines are. Wait, probably they're in McNorman's reports somewhere. Anyway. And if the Protoss do find out about this, tell them that it was McNorman's orders.'
'Yes, sir.'
'And stop calling me “sir,” Mike,' Paskirov said. 'I'm not that special.'
'As of now, Black One, you are the most special man in this fleet of ours. The most important, at least.'
'Right. Well – I'd rather not be reminded. I wonder what would happen when Zaraldis learns of this pendant...' Boris began, but then almost jumped from the bed. 'That's it!'
Williams was not getting it. 'That's what?'
'I know how to find out if Xentus is really with the Zerg!'
'Oh, the Sei'Tara,' Williams murmured, then decided to show some attention. 'How?'
'Simple. And, if it doesn't work, I will at least ditch this worthless thing somewhere where it can't be reclaimed. Right. Basically, we will find a planet that reeks of Zerg and we will give them this artifact. Then, we will go to the executor's homeworld and call for Xentus. When he comes, we will propose an exchange – Zaraldis for the pendant. The Sei'Tara are currently unarmed and I bet the Zerg are beating them badly. Therefore, Xentus will want to cooperate and will get the pendant and give it to us. And when he does, Zaraldis will be there to see how his master had effortlessly taken the artifact from the Zerg. He, of course, will have seen us giving it to the Zerg and all,' Paskirov explained with a wide smile.
'I see. What about the Dark Templar, are they not going to find out of the existence of this second half of the pendant?' the ghost asked.
'You have a point there... It would be hard to keep it away from them. Maybe if I move all them away from the Andronikos and instead keep Zaraldis here... I could fly with her to a place like Grenafar and back to the fleet without the Dark Templar knowing anything about the pendant. Hmm, plus, I will not have Dark Templar guards when I'm giving the pendant.'
'You will have a science vessel and troops, I suppose?'
'Yes, surely. That would do. That would do just perfectly. Mike, I love it when a plan comes together!'
'I'm sure,' the ghost spoke in his usual impersonal tone.
***
The next day was a day-off for the whole fleet and the men took a one-day vacation from all the peripeties they had been facing in unknown space. In the evening, Paskirov was officially proclaimed admiral in a small ceremony aboard the flagship and a few days later, when the fleet was done on Arena 3, McNorman's coffin was released in space according to the Umojan ceremonial protocol.
During those days, Paskirov was trying to find out from Zaraldis where the Sei'Tara homeworld was really located. At first, he didn't succeed, but after he revealed to the Protoss that he intended to help the tribe in his own, human way, the executor yielded and told the Umojans where the homeworld was located in exchange for Paskirov's promise that the expeditionary fleet would fight the Zerg.
Once that was done, Boris ordered the fleet to wait in orbit around Arena 4.
'I will take the Andronikos to a secret location for a couple of days. Then I will return to you. In the meantime, vice-admiral Ferguson is in command.'
There were no questions from anybody not serving aboard the flagship.
The Umojan Expeditionary Fleet was left in orbit while the Andronikos prepared to go to Grenafar and perform the first moves of the new admiral's plan to unveil the mystery around the strange leader of the Sei'Tara. Aboard the battlecruiser were no Dark Templar, as planned. Paskirov had explained them that he wanted to give Zaraldis some rest and privacy, so they all went away. The only individuals to witness the experiment Paskirov was performing were him, Zaraldis, Williams, Chester, who was told about the second half of the pendant, Carla, about whom the admiral insisted to participate in the negotiations, and the personnel of the Andronikos.
The huge ship approached the familiar planet. It looked the same way as when they had left it, with all the Zerg in one huge red and purple strip where the planet could offer any tolerable conditions. The humans entered the atmosphere and from four kilometers above the ground, a tiny dropship left one of the docking bays. The golden eagle on its hull glistened under the setting sun as it set course to the surface.
In it were the admiral, the faithful interpreter ghost Williams, and the executor. Boris was wearing a scientist's field gear and was keeping the pendant in a box, hidden from Zaraldis, just to keep the suspense. In it there was also a small pressurized container of Zerg pheromones. Prepared under great secrecy, they would attract any passing Zerg, so Boris was prepared to release them on the artifact and in the air around it in order to get the attention of the aliens.
When the shuttle approached the snowy rocks where Boris was planning to throw the pendant, he revealed it to Zaraldis. The Protoss was shocked.
'Behold, executor, half of the pendant of Namdur. You seem to recognize it?'
'He does, and he wonders why it is severed,' Williams slowly interpreted, keeping his own thoughts to himself. 'He thinks that this is why he thought there was another ghost in the dropship.'
'Right. Well, that's how we found it. The point is, pay attention what will happen to it.'
Then, the huge door opened and Boris, secured to the dropship by a rope, walked to the edge and sprayed it with the pheromones. The chilling winds that blew above the snowy fields outside rushed into the cargo compartment. Then, the dropship accelerated towards the rocks not far from a Zerg colony and when it was at the minimum safe distance Boris dropped the artifact. As he was holding it, he just opened his hand and let it fall a hundred meters down amid the snowy rocks. Zaraldis briskly moved in his seat seeing this, then sat back, looking wildly at the admiral.
'He is suprised with what you did,' Williams said, slightly smiling.
Boris, who was emptying the pheromones in the air behind the inbound dropship turned at the Protoss.
'Don't worry, executor. You may see it again sooner than you expect.' Then he added, 'Although I'd rather you couldn't.'
As they were leaving, he spotted Zerg approaching the location of the pendant through his binoculars. They hesitated for a while, then headed back to the colony with great speed. They had gotten the artifact.
The vessel returned to the Andronikos and the Andronikos made a warp jump back to the fleet.
'What is his homeworld called, anyway?' Paskirov asked Williams as they were walking into the docking bay.
'He refuses to say, sir. It is a bad omen if anybody outside the tribe finds out the name,' the ghost replied.
Stupid superstitions, the admiral frowned, only standing in the way. Even the way more reasonable separatists were abiding by this archaic tradition. Regardless, the scientists had already designated it as 2481ST04, after the year it was discovered, the name of the Dark Templar, and its position from the central star.
'All ships prepare for a warp jump to these coordinates,' the admiral ordered the fleet once he assumed his position at the bridge. 'It is time to do some talks, gentlemen, the results of which will prove significant for the outcome of our mission.'
***
2481 C.E.
BATTLECRUISER “ANDRONIKOS”
UMOJAN EXPEDITIONARY FLEET
HIGH ORBIT OVER 2481ST04
A.K.A. SEI'TARA HOMEWORLD

According to the separatists' reports, the Sei'Tara, as remarkably armed as they were for Dark Templar, did not have more than one or two more carriers down on the surface. Some officers would want to attack the Protoss, Paskirov knew, but that was under the old regime. Things have changed now.
According to plans, the expeditionary fleet, along with the Protoss vessels, would stay in high orbit for as long as the negotiations with the Sei'Tara lasted. The alien commanders were taken to the Graf von Moltke as a safety precaution since the Protoss found it offending for humans to set foot on their ships. Furthermore, the humans themselves could keep an eye on their command if the Protoss were their guests. Because “hostages” would sound pernicious to the friendly relations between the races.
When everybody was set, the Andronikos and the science vessel Aldrin left the fleet and headed to the green and blue surface of the Sei'Tara homeworld. On the bridge, Zaraldis was revealing the excitement of seeing his home planet again. Boris was looking at the strange dark blue surface covered in jungles. Perfect for Dark Templar, he thought. Somewhere down there was Xentus himself, waiting to see the bold Umojans who had stolen his commander and his armies from him. He would, soon enough.
The two-ship task unit flew into the atmosphere of the nameless planet, heading to the designated coordinates where the Sei'Tara main city, Savassilar was located. Flying over dense jungles and wide pale blue plains in the planet's temperate zone, the Andronikos and the Aldrin found the settlement in a plateau on a vast mountain range. Around the plateau there were some smaller terraces overlooking the jungles in the valley in the south.
'There's your city, Zaraldis,' the admiral pointed at the lights in the setting twilight. 'There we shall all find truth.'
The battlecruiser stopped three kilometers from it, sent a message to the rest of the fleet to maintain a low geostationary orbit over a coordinate fifty kilometers away, then released a single dropship with one of Williams' ghosts in it to summon the Protoss' leader.
'Tell them that he is to come to where our battlecruiser is located. If he wants his army back,' Paskirov told the ghost to say.
When the soldier returned, he reported a confirmation and the admiral, Williams, Zaraldis, and several guards flew into the night. Down on the flat stone terrace where the meeting was to take place the Sei'Tara delegation had already arrived. The dropship touched the hard ground and, walking out of its cargo compartment, Paskirov took a deep breath and looked out. The science vessel was hovering in the air in the distance behind them, scanning the scene for anything visible and invisible and sending the marines updates. The ground was one spacious smooth white rock and a hundred meters away in the distance there were the Protoss.
There were six of them, tall and formidable despite for their bent stance. Their purple eyes were glowing in the night while they approached the Terrans. Paskirov, standing in front of Williams, Zaraldis, and the guards felt the walking towards the approaching robed aliens intimidating, but remembered who had the hostages and relaxed. The first Protoss of their group caught the eye. His robes were not as disorderly and black as those of the rest of the group, but pale white and covered in bright blue runes. Is that Xentus? he thought.
As he drew closer, Zaraldis kneeled down and faced the ground. Paskirov could see the bright eyes, the golden diadem and bracelets, as well as the strange lack of grace in his movements. The admiral boldly stood up against the alien when it drew closer, keeping dignity and taking a chance to vex him.
After the leading alien stopped several meters from the admiral, Williams coldly interpreted. 'He is Xentus, chieftain of the Sei'Tara tribe, and he wants to know who we are.'
So, this was the Protoss whose blind pursuit of power risked so much. Their kin is impressive. 'I am Admiral Paskirov of Umoja and that in the distance is the flagship of the Umojan Expeditionary Fleet I am in charge of. I am here to demand ransom for the executor I captured in battle.'
Boris saw that Xentus was actually younger than Zaraldis when the chieftain heard the bold statement that his commander was captured in an engagement. Williams stood silent while thinking all that was said and replied.
'Xentus...' the ghost smiled,' is pissed and wants to know what do we want in exchange.'
'In exchange, Xentus, I want the pendant of Namdur. Why I want it is my business. How you will get it is yours. I want it here three days from now. Or your executor is taken with us on Umoja. Along with the rest of your fleet,' Paskirov boldly presented the Terran demands.
There was a wave of disturbance among the Protoss when they heard this. Something unheard of must had just happened in their history for the first time, he suspected with self-satisfaction. They had met their civilized superiors.
'Don't you think anything to him, or I will personally pull the trigger,' Williams telepathically reminded Zaraldis, who had stood up, but still dared not look at his chieftain in the face.
'We find your conditions acceptable, Umojan human. You will have what you desire,' the ghost heard Xentus' sharp thoughts echo through his head. 'Then, you will give us back all our ships and warriors that you have captured.'
'He agrees and wants to receive all his force in exchange for the pendant, admiral,' Williams told Paskirov.
'Right. I am happy to hear that. It is agreed,' Boris said, wondering how the hell would Xentus get to Grenafar's colonies and back with the pendant.
The two delegations left the field after the quick talks and the task unit returned to the fleet. Three days.
***
The next day, Paskirov had summoned his vice-admiral to the Andronikos and called a meeting of the ships' officers.
'Getlemen, you will need to know this in case something happens while I am down there,' he began and told them his plans for everything that had and that was about to happen.
'That definitely is a bold suggestion, admiral,' Ferguson commented.
'Yes, are you sure that Xentus is capable of obtaining the pendant in the first place?' Bracknell spoke from the table.
'We have put the Protoss in a situation where he will show his true colors. If he is not with the Zerg, he will come empty-handed. And we will not give back his ships. We will keep them and, hopefully, manage to make at least the Sei'Tara army hear what they are really fighting for. If he is... Then his own executor will see this. The head of his army will realize that his master was always with the Zerg and will join us voluntarily, because he will see what Xentus stands for. Either way, we win.'
'What if Xentus uses some sort of trick to get the pendant from the Zerg without fighting them?' Ferguson asked.
'That,' Boris began, 'is a good question. We cannot know. But even if he does, there should be no way for Zaraldis to know. Which will mean that Zaraldis will still believe that his master has sided with the Zerg. Which will make him turn away from a madman and towards us anyway.'
He looked around at the men. 'Also, I think I will teach Xentus some tolerance. I will have Carla interpret for me instead of the major when I'm getting my pendant back down there.'
Williams was about so say something when Boris quickly interrupted him. 'Now, now, major, there's no need to worry. The science vessel is there and the guards are there and even this ship will be close to us, so it is all under control down there.'
'I did not mean to talk about the safety of the sergeant, admiral,' Williams clarified, 'I wanted to question whether this would not create unnecessary tensions between us, Terrans, and the Protoss. Due to the conservative nature of their beliefs.'
'A good remark, major, but I think your reservations are groundless. I will use her to negotiate with Xentus, not Zaraldis. Xentus is the one most likely to not listen to our hard reason, so to his stubbornness, we will respond with stubbornness of our own. And, besides, dogmas are bad for them, right?'
The people in the room nodded.
'Right. All that's left to do, then, is to wait.'
***
When the time was up, the Andronikos left the fleet and headed for the neutral ground. The sun had not yet set and the dropship, accompanied by the science vessel Aldrin were at their positions. The Terran delegation – Paskirov, Carla, Bracknell and Chester, who had insisted on coming, as well as Zaraldis and the guards – were on their side of the center, waiting for the coming Protoss.
'Look carefully, executor,' Paskirov said, smiling. 'You may be surprised by what you will see.'
Xentus was coming, but this time there were different Protoss around him. About ten unarmed, well-dressed aliens, with clean, ornate dark blue robes and golden jewelry. Xentus himself was wearing completely black clothing, which made it hard to see the outline of his body against the cloak except for his uncovered eyes.
When the other delegation was a few meters away, Carla shrugged and frowned in anger.
'What is it?' Boris inquired.
'He laughed at me being a female and asks how stupid must we be to insult them by having me for interpreter,' she was vexed.
'Bah, ignore him,' he placated her. 'He will go down soon. Xentus, greetings! We have our part of the deal. Your warlord is here and your force is ready to go home. Have you fulfilled yours?'
Xentus put his grey hand into unknown pockets in his strange robes and took out the golden Pendant of Namdur. The exact same half that Boris had thrown to the Zerg on Grenafar. The Protoss raised in the air in front of Paskirov and waited, fixing his bright purple eyes on the admiral.
Paskirov's pupils dilated. Three days. There and back, alive. So it was true... Xentus really was, all this time, working with, he could not imagine it, working with the Zerg. The very chieftain of the Sei'Tara... Well, the implications could wait.
'You see, Zaraldis,' he turned to the executor who was still kneeling on the ground, humbled in front of his superior, 'your chieftain has the pendant. Your chieftain took the pendant from the colonies down there. How else, now, do you think this can happen unless he has sided with them?'
Carla interpreted and looked at Paskirov in fear. 'He's not replying.'
That wasn't going according to plan. Behind him, the men were growing nervous.
'Zaraldis, look!' he reached for the shoulder of the executor, but the Protoss began standing up.
'His master is calling him...' she said what she was hearing.
'But... Zaraldis, look at that!' Boris almost shouted at the executor who was walking away. His guards dared not open fire.
Boris saw the extended hand with the half of the pendant in front of him and involuntarily took it.
'Chester, call the dropship and tell them to tell the fleet to keep their eyes open for strange activity on the carriers. Something is going wrong...' he could not finish his orders because Carla interrupted him.
'Foolish humans. Who are you to stand in the way of the plans of the Sei'Tara. Wow,' she could not help exclaiming. 'Your blasphemous defiance and slanderous demands have been tolerated by our kinsmen for long enough. Now, your arrogant intrusion into our land will come to an end!'
Boris checked behind him to see if the guards and the science vessel were okay, then preserved his haughy attitude. 'Right. Listen up, Protoss, I do not care how you see the world or anything, as long as you can see it accurately enough for us both to communicate. Your blind zeal will only lead you to disaster, because you do not see the reason behind others' warnings, and that shouldn't be – and, in fact, isn't much of – my problem, but...'
Boris was just observing the calm, emotionless expression on Xentus' face while talking, when loud electric cracks and the sound of thunder from behind grabbed his attention at the same time when the chieftain quickly raised his hands to his grey temples. The admiral instinctively turned around, only to see the Aldrin devoured by bright hissing lightnings that materialized around it and jumped onto its hull. The science vessel exploded with a loud bang, illuminating the nearby area with the flames. Paskirov, along with all the humans, instinctively ducked, then grabbed the pendant and looked around, trying to overcome the shock and figure out what to do.
'He's saying!' Carla began. 'He's saying that you could never defy Zaraldis' loyalty or manipulate the Sei'Tara like you tried to do. He played your game on purpose so that he could show you the futility of your attempts to tell Zaraldis what to do. Now, witness your paltry machinations crumble against the might of Xentus, oh, dear!'
'That's definitely not good, Carla. Everybody prepare to get back to the dropship! The negotiations...' Boris began, but stopped short, looking at another object that Xentus had taken out of his robes. It was a golden band of some sort, with a couple of crystals in it... It was the first half of Namdur's pendant.
'Oh... my... god...' Chester was walking back, fearing what he saw.
'Go! To the fleet! Tell the Andronikos to get over here!' somebody shouted, expressing the general opinion.
Xentus mockingly threw the first half of Namdur's pendant at Paskirov, but the admiral did not bother taking it. He was running with the others back to the dropship.
Then, all of a sudden, something invisible pierced the visor of the marine next to him and blood covered the inside of the shattered glass bowl. In front of him, another marine opened fire at something moving in between the Terrans and their transport, but the invisible hand of a cloaked Dark Templar stuck a psi blade in his chest and he fell dead on the ground. All around them, the empty forms of cloaked Protoss were appearing, surrounding the Terran delegation.
'I hear him,' Carla was frightened. 'There is nowhere to go... He invites us to surrender.' Then, she jumped aside to avoid tripping over Bracknell's bleeding corpse.
Boris quickly examined the situation. There were encircled by Dark Templar. The Andronikos was still in the distance, but was preparing to leave for the other ships. Probably Ferguson had seen what had happened to the Aldrin and had decided to get to the fleet and use the captured enemy carriers to make a trade with the tribe or something. Out of the dropship, two shadows moved into the open. The situation had gotten out of control.
'I think we should surrender,' Paskirov said slowly, looking at the last guard getting stabbed and falling on the ground.
'Yea, surrender,' Chester quickly uttered.
The humans raised their hands in the air and the Dark Templar around them became visible. The circle of hostile glowing Protoss eyes was broken by Xentus stepping in.
'He says now we are going to be taken to Savassilar,' Carla said. 'Where we will be executed.'
'Tell Zaraldis to listen to reason!' the admiral urged her, hoping it would help.
'I can't, he is not responding!' she looked at Zaraldis, who was walking away.
'I guess you didn't anticipate the possibility of the executor being stupid, Boris,' Chester caustically remarked.
'But... He is a Protoss! What kind of an alien that is so intelligent cannot understand such simple logic!' Paskirov exclaimed while turning in the direction of Savassilar. He sighed and looked at the ground. 'I hope that the folks on the ships come up with something to get us out of here.'