The SCL Starcraft RPG - Content thread

[Visions of Khas]

He could feel Velichek's nanites course through him, buzzing through his blood stream and at the end of his nerve endings, much like von Neumann probes - exploring, invading, reproducing...

Cogitating.

This did little, however, to curb his mirth. Morik was giddy. Experience would tell anyone that a giddy Morik was detrimental to the health of others.

Morik poured over the information on his PDA extracted from the pirate base near Red Stone. It was full of rubbish -- observations and tests on micro-Lorentzian traversible wormholes; meta-stable plasmoid solenoids that resonated at varying frequencies; new and more powerful spectrometer equipment; advencements in extractive metallurgy; the personal dossier of one metallurgist's midnight rendezvous with an intern... none of it was of use.
[ = incorporate = ]
Well, that's a lie. There was one interesting article he found.

The pirates had at one point been affiliated with the Morian Mining Coalition before its merger with the Kelanis Guild. They had severed ties with the Coalition, but had been forced by the economic and political and abject alien climate to rejoin. There were brief mentions of sorties at Char and, later, Aiur, but it was all a muddled mess. What was evident, however, was that they had come by a stock pile of information regarding psychic warfare, and zerg infestation techniques.

The zerg. That tickled something in the periphery of his mind, just beyond the hinterlands of conscious thought. A pall the color of activated charcoal settled over his mood.
[ = hunger = ]
Morik still wasn't quite sure how he felt about his half-breed nature. Well, that's another lie. He felt a lot of things about it - anger, happiness, passion, paranoia (that was a common one, admittedly) and loneliness. Lonely not for deep, erudite conversation; not lonely for lack of a meaningful intimate relationship... but he had impulses, many of which he could not describe, aside from the fact that various motives and thoughts ran into each other and canceled one another out.

And these damned nanites were really giving him a flat affect and harshing his mellow.
[ = destroy, kil kill kill = ]
Except when they weren't.

The Kimera lurched as it swung through warp space, snagging hold of gravitational geodesics on the run and slingshotting an extra light year toward its destination.

Morik heard they were bound for Moria. They need money, equipment, intelligence... Personnel.

...Personnel... yes, we might all benefit from some added company, wouldn't we?...


[ = food... = ]


... Rat? Is that a rat? FOOD!

The sinewy train tracks that composed Morik's mind experienced yet another collision. Psychic repair crews in the form of molecular workers would have the mess cleaned up by morning.

* * *

Early the next morning, the Kimera decanted from warp space. Moria hung in amidst a blizzard of activity, freighters and craft of all make and model encasing it in a transient shell that glint and glittered in the sun's rays.

Buzan didn't wince away from the light. He had done much thinking the night before, and hadn't slept more than forty minutes before starting his shift. It didn't matter though, he didn't feel the weight of sleep debt. His mind had raced against it self, and in a moment of clarity, having outrun the shadows of the past, he caught his second wind, and made a realization.

Morik, he decided, could stay...

Buzan had finally found a way to make the nightmares go away. Then he'd never have to outrace the shadows again.

[Kimera757]

Ulrezaj, swirling in his caverns, was impatient for Garovitner to return. He consoled himself by considering the knowledge he stood to gain. When he did, fusing with his minion would require tremendous amounts of energy, and Ulrezaj couldn't travel to Ehlna right away either.

So he turned to his highest-ranking minion on Aiur, Felanis.

How did they like their first taste of Sundrop?

"They were overawed. But only for a brief time. Afterward they felt lost and despondent."

What of it?

"That was a problem when the zerg came. Most of my followers were too weak to fight back. Only Alzadar and a few other former templar were any use at all ... in the fighting, that is. Worse, Alzadar could not enter the Khala--"

Have you not paid attention to a SINGLE THING I have taught you, Felanis? The Khala is simply a narrow, twisted version of our natural gifts!

Ulrezaj continued to berate Felanis, venting his varying frustrations. It took the willpower of his other three minds to pull him back from the brink of absorbing Felanis' mind right then and there.

Listen, Ulrezaj insinuated one of his backup minds. Felanis is too valuable to be dismissed this way. When a protoss is cut off from the Khala, it requires a period of ... adjustment ... before they can become strong again.

What of it? raged Ulrezaj, but inwardly this time. When the protoss are cut off from the Khala, they begin to reassert their natural gifts. Or so I thought. Perhaps the protoss of Aiur have become weak since the best of them left so many years ago. These smooth-faced weaklings aren't worthy of... but, alas, I must use them for now. Since you're so full of advice, propose something, of "wise one."

Felanis briefly lifted his arm from over his eyes, surprised to still be intact. Physically at least. He decided staring at his still and ... well, staring, master wasn't a good idea. He hid his face again.

I propose you ... I ... and Felanis, teach these protoss how to wield their natural gifts. Weak though they may be, you will still be able to feed off of them.

Very well. I was right to have made you my first cohort within me... Shakura. We will begin.

Now, "speaking out loud" to Felanis, and taking care to carefully regulate the former Judicator's mental state...

I am disappointed in their weakness. However, it was as much... no, he wouldn't blame himself the Sundrop. It takes time to become acquainted with. And I don't have time to teach them all. Not yet. So I will teach you, and you will teach Alzadar. Together you will secretly show them your abilities. They will realize their Benefactor can make them strong.

"It will be done, my lord. Just one question. These new dark powers, won't they resemble..."

Must I do all the thinking for the five ... two of us?! Teach Alzadar how to outwardly affect the world with his mind, and nothing more. That was something he never learned as a zealot. It is not the way of the "Tal'darim" to conceal knowledge from their brethren.

Ulrezaj conveniently forgot that he wouldn't be teaching the Tal'darim a lot of things, such as the final fate he had in store for them.

"Tal'darim... the Forged. Yes, it sounds nice. We'll be forged anew."

Yes, you will. Ulrezaj watched his little minion leave. They would be forged, into tools, into slaves. Tal'darim was a translation of the xel'naga word meaning "slave robot". Fortunately, the origin of the word had been lost, except to him and the Ascended Being of course. And possibly the preservers knew the secret, too. No matter. He knew all the secrets of the preservers anyway. He'd absorbed enough of them already. Still, it wouldn't hurt to contact his agents on Shakuras. Preservers were few enough, they were not difficult to keep track of. The only problem was waiting for them to leave the world... they tended to be heavily guarded when many protoss were around. Fortunately, his agents could scare off the two they had located...

[Visions of Khas]

The Summons:
Buzan and the Kimeran Pirates

"I am the Marquis of Carabas."

The man wore neo-traditional clothes reminiscent of the style of the late victorian era, a simple yet elagant smoking jacket with large, the warm color of loam rich with red clay, with simple brass buttons. Bric-a-brac covered the faux-mahogany shelves behind him. A cummerbund and the man's relaxed pose obviated the strictness and formality characteristic of the style.

"And I am here to propose to you a handsome deal." He took a long breath from a cigar. "Hopefully, by the end of this message, we shall address each other as comrades-in-arms -- no, as friends."

"Our neighborhood, the sector of Koprulu, is ashambles. Who, now, will protect your interests and enterprises? Certainly not Mengsk. We've seen what he is capable of -- and incapable of doing for you."

"In times of great jeopardy as this, only solidarity and strength will see us survive the day's end. Strength not only of muscle and arm, but of intellect; conviction; the strength to improve and advance the human condition, and the strength to make the hard decisions."

"Learn what we know -- know your enemy; learn to wield the most outre technologies you've ever witnessed. To circumvent each and every one of your enemy's defenses - physical, mental, emotional, technological, ethical, spiritual - and crush them beneath your heel. And to augment yourself and your brothers."

"Do you seek freedom? Solidarity? Brotherhood? Strength?"

"We have it."

"We've been cleansed through fire and rise from the soot and coal and dying embers. Soon, the same shall become of all our enemies: reduced to naught but stirring phantoms - to never arise. To our enemies, we are forever wrapped in the cloak of anonymity, caring not for their ire and wrath of steel."

"Seek us out, and we shall find you. You know who you are... as you know who WE are."

"Cloaked in starlight's absence, We follow paths unseen, Never to be watched or heard, Our senses are too keen."

* * *

The transmission, bounced across the back-alleys of holonet relays the sector over, were received by the mercenaries, assassins, bounty hunters, pirates; by fallen warriors, the disenfranchised, hackers and mutants, quixotic wanderers; by a select few officials.

Jenna Taylor's 'net account received its own copy of the transmission, as did one Daemon Gant.

* * *

Vex stood up languidly from the over stuffed chair, tugging at the hem of his jacket. The videographers packed away their equipment as Mattheiu Buzan and Twitch stepped towards Vex, who effected a broad grin. The man dropped his cultured Umojan accent in favor of a sterotypical Mar Saran; "Well, cap'n, how was that? Dem's good'n, mm-hmm?"

Buzan smiled. "Over the top and pretentious." He slapped Vex's shoulder with a hand. "Couldn't have done better myself."

"A little public, don't you think, Boss?" said Twitch.

Buzan turned and began to walk out the door. "Even public addresses have their uses. This is only the first step, Twitch." He puffed on his own cigar and added silently, to himself, "Down the path of reconstruction... and revenge."

[Pandonetho]

Daemon gently eased on the speed, surprised at how agile the mechanic had managed to make his Wyrm. It matched his Wraith in speed, and was far superior in Air to Air combat. Just below him he could see a tiny dot, the munitions depot undoubtedly. Grinning with excitement he nosedived towards the depot, reaching it in only seconds before transforming and slamming into the ground with an impressive landing. He stood just in front of the munitions depot as alarms went ringing loudly throughout the facility.

"Heh, let's see what you K-Sector chumps are made of."

He let loose a wave of rounds puncturing holes all over one side of the building causing superficial damage, but fulfilling the intended result. Two enemy prototype Wyrms walked out of the facility, undoubtedly piloted by rookies. Daemon had already gotten completely used to the complicated control scheme, he quickly launched into his aerial form and flew away baiting the two unfortunate Wyrms behind him.

They ungracefully transformed to follow, excited to draw blood.

"Come on! Is that all you got?!" Gant accelerated. The enemies could not keep up. Immediately, a light started flashing on Daemon's HUD.

It indicated that he had "mail."

"Not now" he grunted, and ignored it. Following this action, another light activated, more urgent. "Shit!" he muttered as 2 missiles locked onto him. He smiled, time to show the rookies how it was really done.

Gant boosted himself as quickly as he could into the air before following a parabolic arc and nosediving once more. He quickly transformed and rotated his Wyrm to face the oncoming missiles as he fell from the sky. Following this action he let mowed down the missiles with a wave of fire and re-transformed into assault mode.

"Time to finish off the small fry"

It could not even be considered a dog fight, Gant flew up behind the two enemy Wyrms who were confused as to his location. He made short work of them, blasting them out of the sky.

"HAHAHAhahaha. That's two for the count."

Shivers crawled ungracefully up Daemon's spine, this modified Wyrm was unrealistic.
He headed back base intent on patting his mechanic on the shoulder for a job outstandingly done.

"Now... what was this mail that I received...?"

[UED Special Ops]

*2 days after arrival at Redstone III Station*

"Two days..." Jenna Taylor thought, looking up at the roof of her rented room. "Two days of waiting and for what? Only three serious offers, and all of them unacceptable." In the two days since she had arrived, the only people to approach her where either slimy Mafia types, looking for a patsy or miners looking to hire some security. The miners had offered next to nothing for the job, and while the Mafia offers were lucrative, it was obvious they were merely looking for someone to take a Gauss round for some petty Don. Sighing once again, she was distracted from her brooding thoughts by her PDA beeping. Sitting up, Jenna flicked it on, seeing that she had a new message. Tapping a few more buttons, the message started up.

---

"Seek us out, and we shall find you. You know who you are... as you know who WE are."

"Cloaked in starlight's absence, We follow paths unseen, Never to be watched or heard, Our senses are too keen."

With those words the recording ended, leaving Jenna intrigued. It was obvious that this potential employer meant serious business and had a flare for the dramatic, based on the dress and manner of the speaker.

"Hmm, anti-Dominion, obviously from a group that isn't allied with any of the major Terran powers, a value for independence and freedom. I like it." she mused. Looking around the small room, then back at her arm-mounted PDA, Jenna came to her decision. Activating the built-in encrypter, she fired off a reply message to the mysterious sender:
---
"Jenna Taylor, independent Mercenary. Received message. Current location Redstone III orbital station. Do not bother looking for references or background, will not find any. Your group and I have much in common and I am interested in a partnership. Willing to travel out of system to meet. Will be able to provide own transport. Waiting for response."
---
Giving the message a final once over, Jenna sent to off towards the hidden reply location built into the original message. With that done, Jenna decided that she might as well go and get a drink, as it seemed that things might just be looking up for once.

[DemolitionSquid]

"Whispers"

The ships com came online again. Com officer Jared Greviv's voice came through.
"Sir, we've just received a full spectrum communication. It appears to be an offer of allegiance to overthrow the new Dominion."
Duran sat up on his bed, a bit suspicious.
"Raynor?"
"No, sir. A man calling himself the Marquis of Carabas."
Well, there's a name Duran hadn't heard in awhile. He chuckled at the obscure reference.
"Patch it through."
"Aye Aye."

Rising from his bed, on which he struggled for control of the husk that contains him, Duran stretched and moved over to his desk. He turned on his holocorder and watched the message in full.
"This could be quite beneficial. If only to keep the Dominion occupied so I can have a bit more freedom."
He stroked his goatee, then activated the ships com.
"You did well in realizing the importance of this message, Mr. Greviv. I want you to keep track of the activities of this "Marquis of Carabas" and his ilk. Do not make contact, however."
"Thank you, sir. Will do."

If he had the supplies, Duran would have gladly considered the offer. But even with the new Protoss ships he would be receiving, his resources were spread thin. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, though. If anyone was as resourceful, tricky, and deceitful as "Puss in Boots," it was certainly himself.

[Visions of Khas]

Screen Name: Visions of Khas

Character Name: Kaloth

Race: Zerg - Cerebrate

Faction: Belphegor Brood (rogue brood)

Equipment: Belphegor brood; a number of specialized breeds, including but not limited to Androlisks (advanced strain of Infested Terran), Behemoths, Unclean Ones, and Advanced Evolution Chambers. Possesses a number of extruding tentacles from a cavernous maw.

Personality: Kaloth is a highly intelligent Cerebrate that has the uncanny ability to predict the thoughts and motives of its protoss and terran enemies. It has a wicked sense of humor, and despises the Zerg Swarm over which Kerrigan holds sway. The thought of other surviving Cerebrates both excites and disgusts Kaloth. It is driven by a profound hunger. Kaloth is also skilled at reanimation and reincarnation.

Background:

Experiences periods of dormancy, during which times Kaloth is camotose and its minions spread thin.

The culmination of the Brood War saw the destruction of Kerrigan's opposition and the end of the Overmind's line of progeny, the Cerebrates. Or so it was believed. Rumors persist of a handful of Cerebrates having eluded destruction. One such case was proven true when the Protoss discovered the reanimated Alexei Stukov and tracked down his benefactor, Kaloth. Before its annihilation, Raynor and Taldarin discovered research and development into Terran, Protoss and Zerg technologies on Braxis; Kaloth itself was never found.

From the tractless depths of space, a rogue brood descends on an unsuspecting world. Driven by mysterious compulsions, Kaloth continues waging a covert shadow war, relying on intrigue and subterfuge as much as brute force.


Character Font / Color: To be determined... >>

Sample Post:

Awakening

Kalloth screamed.

It was the dissonant wail of an orchestra tuning its multifarious instruments. A thronging cacophany. Hundreds upon thousands of nodes of screeching and clashing until they slowly began coming together into a unified whole. From the madness emerged a single voice.

Kalloth was awakening. Again.

In a fit of instinctive paranoia, Kalloth looked about its environs through its thousands of eyes, listening through ears and antennae and pressure-sensitive limbs.

Everything was in order. Kalloth was safe.

Judging from the rotation of the planet above, from the stars in the sky, three days had elapsed. Its brood minions had enough time to wander across several dozen kilometers. These periods of somnalance varied. The source of the deep slumbers eluded Kalloth, and occured irregularly. He dismissed the concern - he was used to it by this point - and resumed from where he left off, before the last sleep.

He needed to feed.

Attuned once more to their master's will, the brood minions went about the task of finding Kalloth's meal, a lone terran. Zerglings and mutalisks scowered the moon; overlords and queens expanded their sense.

The man was found half a kilometer from Kalloth's cove.

The man was brought before him by a pair of hydralisks, long scythes boxing him in. The man raged and screamed; ripples of force cascaded from his mind. Kalloth nullified his psychic attack. A quick slash from one of the minions doubled the man over in pain and bowels. Kalloth lumbered forward, reared back to reveal its cavernous maw, and let loose a storm of tendrils. They sank into his pores, orifices, eyes. It took a few hours for the man's thrashing to stop, his mind and body depleted.

With his hunger temporarily satiated, something within Kalloth's mind opened up. Aside from the hunger, another element that defined Kaloth's life were undeniable instincts driving it foward. With each new awakening, a new instinct, an impulse with all the motive power of a supernova, pushed itself to the forefront.

Kalloth was refreshed. He, and the brood by extension, could now continue their voyage. As one, the Belphegor brood looked up into the sky, where there hung a ruddy world crimpled by silver streaks of clouds.

[Visions of Khas]

Descent

The Belphegor brood descended upon Aiur on pillars of light.

Behemoths crashed down into the planet like great meteorites, burning entry corridors through the atmosphere. Craters formed in the rocky crust; plumes of ash and smoke billowed upward, high into the atmosphere. Like a mass of cockroaches, the brood burrowed into the ground and shunned the light of day. When night fell, they raced across the world.

A lone Behemoth rested in orbit. It observed the world, conveyed its information to Kaloth, then transitioned into warp space. A flicker of pseduomotion, and it was gone.

On the planet, a carpet of black zerg rushed headlong across Aiur's marred surface. The ocassional native zerg or protoss encountered was ignored; the brood had only one goal, a single destination, in its overarching mind. Only once in a great while would a queen descend and capture a native to forcefully inject it with spores or parasites, then release it, like organic tracking collars placed on endangered animals. Kaloth itself raced along with its children within the hollowed confines of the husk of a torrasque. It had been reanimated from the remains of a long dead Cerebrate's personal guardian.

The Belphegor brood tracked a long swath across the barren landscape, a scar that would not end until it terminated at the death bed of the Overmind. They would reach their goal in four days.

* * *

A blip registered on the Dark Templar defense net over Shakuras. It was massive. Mass and speed indicated it to be a Behemoth, one of the zerg super carriers typically used to field ground invasion forces.

A psychic call rippled from Talematross. Cloaked vessels on the moon detached from its surface and made their way silently to the invader. As they closed the distance, it did nothing. For ten minutes it hung, silently. Observing.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared.

Baffled, the praetor of the defenses called for his warriors to track the carrier. Perhaps it fled elsewhere to disgorge its contents in secret.

It was after the mighty carrier Kheldratyr lifted off to scout the system that the protoss realized there were already Zerg on Shakuras. Thousands erupted from the ground, training their sights on the Protoss settlements.

Open to attack, the Protoss girded themselves for battle.

[Kimera757]

Garovitner was still taking too long. The last time Ulrezaj contacted him, he had taken a detour to Braxis, in order to consult with an operative there, Alzarath.

But whatever for?

Garovitner seemed unruffled, and the look in his eyes... whatever he learned, it must have been profound to change him so. The Garovitner Ulrezaj knew had always seemed wild when speaking to him. No doubt that was why he was such a proficient assassin.

"Alzarath's spying on the terrans uncovered an unusual ...manifesto."

What of it? Every terran group has a manifesto. Even Alan Schezar had one.

"I did not think 'for the greater glory of my bank account' was a manifesto."

Humor was unlike Garovitner as well.

"This is the manifesto: 'Cloaked in starlight's absence, We follow paths unseen, Never to be watched or heard, Our senses are too keen.' If I recall correctly, a shadow agent I knew used to be a member. But we never heard of them since that admiral returned...

Ulrezaj was intrigued. He knew of no Dark Templar who would willingly work with terrans, other than himself. And he knew of none who would work for terrans, unless their name was James Raynor. Much as he didn't like dealing with the hairless apes, they were useful. And the returned Admiral could not be explained. And from what little he knew of the Shadow Pirate, he had worked with a terran group with access to high technology. Perhaps they could build him something like an EMP Disrupter. With the proper incentive, of course. And by "incentive", it would just be an illusion of free will.

Return before you fade away. You are more important than you know... I will instruct Alzarath to seek them out.

"I will return soon, my lord. As soon as I've taken care of a few more things." The communicator flickered out.

Disobeying instructions wasn't like him. But before he reprimand him, the communicator flared to life again. Ulrezaj found himself looking face-to-face with Taarim, his contact within the Shakuras temple, and one of the few in the Shakuras branch of the Tal'darim who knew of the Benefactor's true nature.

"Lord" began Taarim, who knew better than to use Ulrezaj's name. "The zerg have suddenly appeared on Shakuras."

Taarim could afford to be calm. Ensconced in the Shakuras temple, the safest spot on Shakuras when the zerg came calling... Ulrezaj would have to do something about that. Fast.

But wait ... the Queen began her move already? This was ... unexpected. And foolish. Even with Zeratul being away from Shakuras, the temple could still be activated. There were still, of course, powerful Nerazim on the twilit world, many loyal to him.

As if he could read Ulrezaj's face ... or even thoughts ... at such long range, Taarim responded "It is an unusual brood, my lord. It appears directed, much more than those you told me about on Aiur, but yet it appears to be an independent brood."

That was exactly what Alzarath had been investigating on recently refrozen Braxis. Ulrezaj felt a thrill. It was as if fate itself had placed such opportunities in his path, as it did before any great protoss. Of course he would take advantage.

Here are your instructions. They come in two parts. The first must be accomplished, so listen carefully.

FIRST, slay Nahaan.

Nahaan was the leader of the Ara Tribe. While he had not been a member of the Conclave, he had spent much time with them. What the Conclave knew, he might know, which made him much more dangerous than his arrogant hateful nature would suggest.

Summon a warband of ten of your fanatics. Include a disruptor with them if possible - a weapons test - but none of the rest are to be Nerazim.

Due to the panic in the Khala, Nahaan and his khalen'ri will not be at their best. They'll be looking for zerg threats. They will trust any "smooth-faced Khalai" who approach them.

You are familiar with the ten-band assassination tactic. Have the disruptor send illusions with the primary four. Have them distract the khalen'ri at an appropriate time. Then the Tal'darim may strike.

The plan is perfect. Do not fail.

"I hear and obey, my lord. We shall not fail you."

I should hope not, for your sake. You have been too slow in identifying the last preservers. I understand there may be two still left on Shakuras... Ulrezaj growled out. He let the threat hang in the air a moment as Naarim quialed. Ulrezaj had forced him out of his comfort zone with but a few words. Send as many Nerazim as you can spare to capture these zerg. Store them under the temple. Study them. I may have need of zerg minions soon. I have plenty on Aiur, but variety may be essential.

The subhead of the Guardians of the Xel'Naga Temple of Shakuras scurried to obey, as if Void-borne demons were right on his heels. Which of course, Ulrezaj observed to himself, wasn't true. The demon was still on Aiur. For now.

[Visions of Khas]

Of Meetings and Apples

The Kimerans

The shuttle entered the Red Stone system, entering from a vector diametrically opposed to the moon base raided by the Kimerans. It swept across the system and docked at the Red Stone orbital. After docking, a single man, a man dressed in grey, stepped down from the shuttle. Looking around, he appraised the hangar. A plethora of craft of all makes and models rested here. He transmitted a simple, narrow-beam message to the shuttle's onboard computer. It complied by systematically scanning and cataloging the various craft and their specs.

An hour later, the Man in Grey was in the dormitory section of the station. It was late at night, or the equivalent by local reckoning. There wasn't any day or night, especially on Red Stone, which didn't even have a sky in the traditional sense.

Or land, for that matter. Again, in the traditional sense.

Satisifed that the coast was clear, he began fiddling with the security lock at one of the doors. After two minutes' worth of work, it responded with a satisfying *snick* and yielded to him. He slowly and gingerly pushed it open...

"One false move and I'm redecorating," she said.

... to have a pistol pushed against the side of his head. Standing perfectly still, he swiveled his wide eyes to appraise Jenna Taylor, the assassin.

"Is that quite right, Miss Taylor? Red is such a lovely color." Said a dark figure directly behind Jenna, speaking with a cultured Umojan accent. He held a knife a bear centimeter from her throat. "The gun, please."

Taylor slowly put the gun away, and the Marquis of Carabas responded by moving through the assassin. A holographic projection! Jenna realized.

"It is good to make your acquintance, Miss Taylor. I am -- "

"The 'Marquise'," responded Taylor.

"Quite right again!" He moved through the cabin as though it were his own. The Man in Grey stood at the door, treating the whole dialog with unrestrained indifference.

"We've reviewed your profile, Miss Taylor --" continued the Marquis.

"I don't have one."

"And by that very virtue we find you highly attractive." He gave her a sly smile, teeth white and gleaming against dark skin. "That is to say, we are attracted to the prospect of a business arrangement. With you."

The Marquis sat down on a couch and produced an apple. "We could use a skilled hunter. We have certain... 'characters' in mind, whom we'd like to keep tabs on. Or eliminated. Killed. Drive six feet under, jettisoned, poisoned, eighty-sixed, fucked up, flayed -- really, the choice is up to you." He began to munch on the apple. It was very green. In his other hand he produced a data card and inserted it into the computer on the desk. (The holo-projector was probably coupled to a transmitter, which uploaded the information directly.) A profile came up, one Taylor recognized instantly.

"This is our -- your -- target."

Taylor studied the picture. The man was changed, but there was no mistaking the face...

It was Alexei Stukov, long thought dead Vice Admiral of the annihilated United Earth Directorate Expeditionary Force.

The specter of the Marquis spoke around another bite from his very green apple. "Interested, my dear?"

* * *

Several light years distant, Daemon Grant continued to pilot his craft through a dizzying spiral and loop, destroying another enemy craft. As he leveled out, the proximity alarms began to blare. Confused, he pulled the figher into a steep climb relative his previous heading. The alarms subsided for only a few seconds, then came back at full force. He looked both left and right, and saw nothing but...

From the darkness emerged a Wraith on either side, both a warm grey, rising from the dark as though from great wells of ink. There was a small grey, green and gold insignia emblazoned on both. The Wraith to Grant's right slalomed and broke formation, clearly disengaging itself, leaving Grant alone with the Wraith to his left. It accelerated, went out a kilometer, and made a sharp U-turn.

A new alarm erupted in the cockpit. The tone of a target lock...