"Adjutant, play the UNN frontline report from August 12."
All dia signals received on Agria were from more than two months earlier. These delayed broadcasts were one of the Revolutionary Army’s few sources for learning about major recent events in the Terran Confederacy—because when even UNN began reporting sothing, it ant the Confederacy could no longer conceal its scandal.
"I must announce so unfortunate news: Colonel Edmund Duke of Alpha Squadron has been confird to have fallen under the control of psychoactive drugs used by the rebel forces led by Augustus ngsk. He has gone insane—reduced to a drug-controlled walking corpse."
"I’m field correspondent Gordon. The Confederacy’s First Fleet has already arrived on Mar Sara. The rebels are in full retreat, utterly routed. The people of Mar Sara, long suffering under the rebels’ atrocities, have warmly welcod our forces—the atmosphere here is one of great excitent!"
The main screen shifted to cara footage. At the anchor’s feet burned a pile of Molotovs and wooden barricades. Along the blurred edge of the shot, a Marine in powered armor could be seen roughly dragging a struggling Mar Sara civilian out of his own house.
"You must submit to inspection—how dare you spread jam on your bread! And there’s a flag in your room that isn’t the Confederacy’s red-and-blue star banner!" Tychus said mockingly, giving the silent footage his own sarcastic narration.
"I can imagine what the people of Mar Sara went through after we left—but that will only make them hate the Confederacy even more." Raynor’s expression was grim. He could hardly picture what might have happened to the towns and taverns they had once stayed in.
"In fact," Augustus said, "according to reports from the troops that remained on Mar Sara, they inflicted considerable losses on the Confederate forces through guerrilla warfare. And the Mar Sara locals who supported us have caused the Confederate Army a great deal of trouble as well."
"Take a look at this."
As Augustus spoke, the main screen began to change, switching to a series of news reports.
"The elevated one-way hover train track in the central city of Tarsonis was destroyed. One hover train derailed and crashed, killing more than 800 people—a mber of the Old Family Dorian also perished in the accident."
"Ander Tygore was found dead in his family’s bathroom. He had previously been regarded as the most promising successor to ’Queen Tygore’ Andrea—"
"Confederate Senator Tylan Dole has been implicated in an unprecedented sexual assault scandal. It is reported that more than a hundred governnt officials are involved—"
"After twelve years, the completely purged Abram Rebellion has resurfaced on Antiga Pri."
"—The Sons of Korhal have claid responsibility."
"Your brother Arcturus did a fine job," Tychus remarked. "Killing off those Old Families—that’s exactly what they deserved."
Augustus remained silent. There were hundreds of news stories concerning the Sons of Korhal. During the ti the Revolutionary Army had vanished, the Sons of Korhal had dominated every major dia headline.
From thousands of light-years away from Tarsonis, Arcturus ngsk was issuing orders to his Sons of Korhal. The organization had gradually beco the target of public condemnation for its bloody, ruthless, and indiscriminate vengeance against the Old Families.
Before Augustus could speak again, the main screen suddenly switched to another report.
"The Confederate outpost on Sadin III has been destroyed by an unidentified ard force. Local residents claid that on that cloudless, moonless night, they saw mysterious lights and warships in the sky—and swore that those lights ca from neither stars nor man-made sources."
"It’s the Tal’darim Protoss. They’re taking revenge," Augustus said.
At that mont, below the Hyperion’s bridge, more than a dozen iron-gray Behemoth-class battlecruisers were simultaneously entering the warp corridor. By the ti that fleet reappeared in the material world, the year would already be 2491.
...
SCT 2491.1.12.
Aboard the Hyperion, traveling through the warp conduit.
At shipboard ti 00:06, Augustus, wearing his standard dark-gray captain’s uniform, was sitting on the alloy bench outside the Hyperion’s dical bay. On his left sat Sarah Kerrigan, pressed close against him. On his right, the burly Tychus Findlay sat glaring with eyes as big as an ox’s, his massive backside taking up nearly a third of the bench. His arms were folded across his chest, unmoving like a mountain.
Compared to the silent composure of Augustus and the others, Jim Raynor and Hank Harnack were pacing back and forth in front of the bronze-colored tal door of the dical bay, their steps nearly synchronized. The sound of their boots striking the deck echoed down the narrow, lengthy corridor of the Hyperion.
"Jimmy, Hank, stop for a bit." Looking at the pacing Raynor, Augustus said, "We’ve got the best shipboard doctors, midwives, caregivers, and dical gear. Elizabeth’s receiving the sa treatnt my mother had when she gave birth to —she’ll safely deliver a lovely child."
The Hyperion was currently in the warp corridor from Agria to Umoja. Raynor’s girlfriend, Lidya Elizabeth, whom he’d t on Mar Sara, had been pregnant for over ten months and had now entered labor.
"You’re right." Raynor stopped and looked toward Augustus, as if grasping at a lifeline.
"But I really am nervous. This’ll be the first child ever born on a warship—and we’re inside a warp corridor. Who knows if being born under these conditions might have so effect."
"Don’t worry. Natural births during colonial fleet voyages aren’t exactly rare cases." Augustus replied helplessly to Raynor, "But you two—if you keep pacing like that, you’re gonna make dizzy."
Harnack, however, paid no attention to Augustus’s words. He continued pacing before the dical bay door, muttering invocations of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Holy Son under the protection of the Spirit, every so often tossing out the na of so obscure deity.
"Hank, I thought you were an atheist," Tychus called out to the muttering Harnack.
"Only temporarily," Harnack answered. "When you need them, you’re a temporary believer. You wouldn’t understand, Tychus."
Harnack seed even more anxious than Raynor—not only because he truly regarded Raynor as a brother bound by blood, but also because he couldn’t bear to see any mber of the Heaven’s Devils hurt again.
He had no family, so he saw his brothers-in-arms—those who lived and died beside him—as more precious than his own life. Since the death of Kurt Josephine, the stubborn and flippant young man who’d always bickered with him, he had grown far more mature.
"Idiot! What else do you have in that head besides fighting, money, and won?" Tychus exploded in anger.
"The idiot you’re talking about is you!" Harnack rolled up his sleeves, ready for a fight.
"Both of you, shut up."
All of a sudden, the woman sitting to Augustus’s left, Kerrigan, stood up. Her brows furrowed sharply, and her jade-green eyes glead like gemstones under the cabin’s overhead lights, shining with a crystalline brilliance.
In that instant, the red-haired Ghost operative who had always followed at Augustus’s side revealed the majesty of a queen. Her powerful psionic energy made those around her instinctively feel awe.
Although Kerrigan was rely a seventeen-year-old girl, both the seasoned revolutionary Tychus and the unruly rogue Harnack were stunned into silence.
Almost at the sa mont, the lights in the Hyperion’s corridor began to flicker erratically. Even through the thick tal walls of the dical bay, a tender cry echoed directly into everyone’s minds.
That cry was far from the kind of terrifying psionic shriek that high-ranking Tal’darim Protoss could unleash—one capable of exploding a human soldier’s head—but it was enough to make those who heard it tremble inwardly.
Imdiately afterward, the lights went out completely, plunging the corridor into darkness. Raynor, Tychus, and the others quickly ignited their personal laser lighters, bringing a faint glow to the darkened passageway.
"Damn it, a psionic?" Tychus was no fool. He reacted instantly, pinpointing the crux of the problem. In truth, Tychus was far more intelligent and capable than most of the n under Augustus—he simply never used his brains for the right causes.
"Damn it, Jimmy—how could you have a psionic kid?"
"Quick! Open the door!" Augustus imdiately moved toward the sealed dical bay door, but he quickly discovered that the power circuit had been damaged and could not be opened. Under the dim light, he activated the manual unlock.
The heavy hatch had been originally designed as a fully sealed bulkhead capable of isolating each section of the battleship—it was extrely weighty. Even with the manual lock disengaged, it normally required at least two soldiers in powered armor or exoskeleton suits to push it open.
"Hrragh—!"
Yet at that mont, Tychus alone slowly forced the massive hatch open. The muscles across his back and arms tensed, their sculpted lines rivaling those of ancient Greek statues, as if cast from molten steel.
This rotten, swaggering man was, at critical monts, always remarkably dependable.
Then, with the combined effort of Augustus, Raynor, Tychus, and the others, the heavy hatch was gradually pried open. The people waiting outside rushed in frantically, searching the dimly lit bay for Elizabeth, her child, and the attending doctors.
Just then, several of the dical bay’s lights suddenly flickered back to life. When Augustus saw the doctor holding the newborn in his arms—and Elizabeth’s face—everyone finally let out a genuine sigh of relief.
Aside from the rosy-faced infant, everyone else’s complexion was deathly pale. The doctors and the mother were standing at the very center of the psionic wave, relying solely on their willpower and ntal discipline to avoid panic or ntal collapse.
Even so, their emotions had been severely affected—one young female doctor had even collapsed weakly onto the floor.
If not for Augustus’s foresight in having the wounded patients from the nearby wards transferred to another dical bay aboard the Hyperion before Elizabeth’s delivery, the birth of Raynor’s child might have brought about an even greater catastrophe.
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