The last and final part. The response thus far has been overwhelming: I'm pleased that you've enjoyed it up to this point.

This is going to be another long part, so make yourselves comfy. Hopefully, though, it will all be worth it. Enjoy the show.

(ZC) Bloodlines
The Zerg Canadian Finale - Part 6
By Ravil

Space was a harsh mistress.

Since the beginning of time, species had looked out upon the great velvet expanse of deep space with both excitement and trepidation. Even those races who feared the unknown, though, were eventually lured by the intrigue provided by the heavens above. Although it was everywhere, space served as an almost universal beacon to sentience, a goal and challenge of the utmost caliber. For in every race there was a primal knowledge that beyond the stars lay untold wonders; wonders that they could someday make their own.

But every race who had ever answered the call of the ages and set foot beyond their home planet had suffered its disasters and setbacks. From Earth’s Challenger shuttle to the Protoss Outbound Flight Project, space had proved to its would-be conquerors that it would not be going quietly into the night. Although it could be braved, those disasters served as a constant reminder that it could never truly be tamed. Still, the great unknown had at one point succeeded in capturing the hearts, minds, and imaginations of every species in the galaxy that had at one point stared up into the sky and wondered what was out there.

It was poetic irony that the very same expanse which had served as the spark of life for so many races would play host to what was to be the beginning of the end.

In the far distance, the twin suns that served as the focal point for the Celtris system shone, scantly brighter than the sea of stars which surrounded them. Light streamed over the hull of the immense Zerg Overlord as it glided, stealthy and elegant even in deepest space, inwards towards the fourth planet of the solar system.

And on-board, the beginning of the end had already commenced.

The interior of an Overlord was hardly the most luxurious thing in the universe, but it was pleasingly efficient to Kerrigan’s mind as the Queen of Blades laid back inside. The thick mucous-lined walls provided ample padding for the creatures housed inside, both through regular space travel and for when the Overlord moved through a warp tunnel. Sometimes the g-forces could become irritating, and it was then that Kerrigan frequently wished that the Zerg had developed something along the lines of the inertial dampners found on Terran spacecraft. Still, it was more of an annoyance than anything else, and right now her mind was far too focused on more important things to be concerned with mere annoyances.

Although Kerrigan herself was covered in the dank mucous to hold her in place, the being nearby her was completely surrounded, entrapped within the goopy mess in case she should come out from under the influence of the powerful psionic sedatives that Kerrigan had fed her mind. Ravil’s daughter, this ‘Cajie’ creature, now lay completely at the mercy of the Queen of Blades, her mutated head crest slumped to one side as she passed the long hours after their departure from Earth in a deep sleep. A deep sleep that—although she didn’t know it—she would never truly awaken from ever again. For within the bowels of the Overlord, the process of corruption—or enlightenment, depending on the viewpoint—had begun.

Kerrigan’s hands were pressed firmly against the young hydralisk’s head, and through it the Queen of Blades was channeling the psionic energy that was hers to command. The mental barriers that had been formed as a result of Cajie being raised away from the collective mind of the glorious Zerg Swarm were hard to bring down indeed, and were taking time. Once they were down, however, the fragile young one’s mind would be hers to sculpt and shape in the image that she had made the Swarm…her Swarm. And although this creature demonstrated incredible traits that would doubtlessly bolster the Zerg to untold heights, soon none of it would matter.

This Cajie was to play a role—a grand role—in her ascension. When that role was completed, when the cycle had been made full again, then the Zerg would no longer matter. The Protoss would no longer matter. Not even the humans of Earth would have any value to their small, pathetic existences.

The only thing that would matter would be Kerrigan.

Slowly and intrinsically, the mental energies flowed into the hatchling Zerg’s undeveloped mind. An adult hydralisk such as Ravil might have had the capacity to fight the intrusion subconsciously. This young one, however, had no such talent, no real mental defenses that would come with age. Already the barriers were breaking down, and once they had, there was nothing that could prevent her from twisting the young hydralisk’s mind and will to her own. Nothing at all.

Kerrigan could feel the little one’s purity…not just the inherent purity of essence of all Zerg…but a purity of being. This Cajie truly was the balance that she had been searching for: the creature that was in near-perfect harmony with the universe around her. With age and experience she would have been able to bend and twist reality at a whim, and Kerrigan would never have been able to bend her to her will, much less even capture her like this. But now, she was still young and weak, her mind not fully developed to even comprehend that which she could do. And the Queen of Blades was fully prepared to exploit that weakness. Soon Cajie would be nothing more than an extension of her own will.

She allowed a smile to cross her face as she slowly corroded the young hydralisk’s mind, even as the Overlord continued to draw nearer to their destination of Celtris IV. With luck, the task would be completed by the time they arrived there. After that, things would be set in motion quickly.

Very quickly indeed.

**********

Night was beginning to fall upon the Canadian prairies, a night which under normal circumstances would have brought with it a cloak of impenetrable darkness to shroud the land in. Every star in the northern sky would have been visible, and perhaps even the dancing Aurora Borealis would have come out to frolic in the inky blackness.

This night, however, there were few concerned with the innate beauty of the Canadian constellations or of the Northern Lights. The hilly landscape was speckled with hundreds—if not thousands—of splotches of light in the place that a massive battle had raged only a few short hours ago. The tides of destruction had washed out: the American army was scattered, and reconnaissance reports indicated that all but a few stragglers had crossed back into the United States by this time. That meant that the easy part was over…now all that there was left to do was pick up the shattered pieces.

The medical facilities on board the Canuck II and the Vimy Ridge, while extensive and high-tech, could not even begin to accommodate the massive numbers of wounded that now lay out in the fields of carnage that had been left in the wake of the fighting. With night having crept up upon the triumphant Canadians, a clear count on the numbers of casualties was impossible. It was a superhuman task enough to try and locate all of the wounded; there was little doubt that the number of dead would increase dramatically during the night. The only thing that was known for sure was that by the time the sun rose again, the place was going to be a tomb.

That knowledge did little to waylay the dedicated medical teams which now swarmed through the former battlefield like insects scurrying in darkness to locate that special crumb of food. Emergency vehicles were pouring in from Calgary and some of the smaller nearby towns, going in circle routes to try and evacuate as many wounded out of the area as possible, moving them to hospitals where they could receive the proper medical attention. Many of the wounds that had been inflicted—on both American and Canadian soldiers alike—needed immediate regard. That was why a number of Mobile Army Surgical Hospitals, or M*A*S*H*s, had been deployed, where the more serious wounds could be treated with the utmost haste. The effort was an enormous one, and given that most of the more deadly afflictions were having to be dealt with in the field, many personnel from the two Canadian starships—which had landed on the crest of a nearby hill—had been re-assigned there.

Doctor Anne Turner, Chief Medical Officer on board the CMS Canuck II, wiped the sweat off of her brow and let out a long sigh of frustrated exhaustion as the pair of attendants carted another patient out the front entrance of the tent. The soldier had been badly scorched by what was either an explosion or a flame-thrower—she couldn’t really tell which—but it looked like he was going to make it. At least the helpers weren’t taking him out the back flap of the tent…that was where all the bodies of those who didn’t make it were taken. She hadn’t stolen a glance back there yet, nor did she particularly want to.

Peeling off her rubber surgical gloves and discarding them in favor of a fresher pair, Anne gave her stiff neck a rub in the light of the portable lantern, which was being fed power from the Canuck II’s reactor. There were few sensations on the planet that were quite as unsatisfying as attempting to rub one’s own neck, but it was an impulse to do so anyway, especially when a foreign pair of hands were nowhere to be found. She had lost count of the number of patients that had been in and out of the Dominion 7^th M*A*S*H* station, through one side of the tent or another. She would have given a lot of money for a break, or even for a pot of coffee that didn’t taste like burnt tree bark, especially after that rather harrowing ride on the Canuck II during the battle, and the scads of on-board wounded that she had had to treat.

"Some things just aren’t in the cards, though," she murmured to herself, giving the back of her neck one last pinch before the sounds of shouting from outside rose to the surface again. Turning, she was just in time to see the front flaps of the tent fly open as a new pair of field doctors, their white uniforms stained with blood smears from a dozen different sources, came charging in, carrying on the stretcher behind them yet another body. Not one like the others, though.

The body of a young woman.

"God Almighty," Anne breathed as she slipped her face mask back on as the field men placed her onto the portable examination table as gently as possible. Staring down at the girl, Anne could see that her chest was moving up and down slightly, but that she was covered in lacerations and strange burns. Her flesh was mottled and red, and in some places a foaming white pus-like substance was present. Every few seconds her body would give a weak shuddering convulsion. And she was so young… "What on Earth is going on here? She can’t be more than twenty…where did you guys find her?"

One of the men shook his head. "She was out there on the field with all of the others, ma’am. We just picked her up and brought her back here like we’re s’posed to."

Anne shook her head in disbelief. Had this girl managed to wander onto the battlefield just in time to catch a shell fragment or one of the ship’s energy blasts? Her breathing was faint, and when she tried to check for a pulse, she couldn’t at all seem to find one. What? "Okay, it looks like she’s all over the place. You," she beckoned at one of the field doctors, "hook her up to the machine. We’ve got to try to stabilize her."

As the Canuck II’s CMO bent down to examine the wounds more closely, however, her eyes narrowed. These weren’t burns like the others that she had seen passing through here. They were something entirely different; as though her flesh had actually been eaten away by something, leaving hideous wounds. But as she brushed away some of the foaming pus-like substance from the girl’s arm, she couldn’t keep herself from gasping in shock.

The flesh underneath was completely un-scarred, looking the same as it would have on a newborn babe. It was as though it had been left untouched…or had completely healed.

Suddenly Doctor Anne Turner, graduate of the Medical School of Toronto, expert doctor, surgeon, and pediatrician, had no idea what she was staring at.

**********

It had been, Kanyil reflected as he stalked through the mounds of rubble and debris that were strewn across the battlefield, a thoroughly unpleasant day.

This was coming from a dark elf who had grown up in a bleak, nightmarish world where pain was dished out more frequently than meals, and torture was a form of high entertainment. He had gone through weeks that would have left lesser beings traumatized and comatose for life without so much as breaking a grimace. And yet this particular day, which had taken place on an unimportant fringe planet on an unimportant plane, had still managed to irritate the drow.

"Why do I bother with this?" he asked under his breath, far too quietly for anybody to ever hear. Being as nimble and stealthy as any of the others of his race of subterranean elves, he was at complete ease in the disassociating darkness, and moved almost like a distant shadow. "I follow that woman halfway across the continent to make sure she doesn’t get herself into trouble. Then, the moment I lose her, she goes and does just that." He shook his small head grievously. "And the worst part is that I’m feeling bad enough to go and try to bail her out…again. Lolth make a drider of me if I’ve actually started to grow a conscience…"

Making his way up through the human picket lines was almost laughably easy for the drow. The Canadians had set up half-hearted fortifications around the lacerated battlefield, just in case the Americans decided that they hadn’t been beaten badly enough for one day and came back with reinforcements. It hadn’t happened yet, though, so most of the picket lines were composed of a single soldier who had fallen asleep a while ago. Not that it matters, Kanyil thought wryly. I could get through them in this darkness even if there were a hundred crack troops at every turn. Getting caught wasn’t much of a concern. Getting there in time, though, was.

He had seen Aura being taken away by some medics or soldiers or whatever they were just before sundown. The sun had still been peeping over the mountains at that point, so the dark elf hadn’t been too keen on showing his face quite yet, especially given how sensitive drow eyes were to sunlight. So he had remained concealed, and upon coming out at night had discovered that he had lost Aura yet again. This seems to be turning into a hobby for me. The first place that he had thought to check had been, of course, the various mobile hospitals that the Canucks had scattered around the place to deal with their wounded. But when he peered inside each one that he came across to check for Aura, his eyes were immediately attracted to the plethora of sharpened instruments and mind-bogglingly complicated pieces of technological equipment that were strewn about the room. With a little imagination, each mobile hospital looked surprisingly similar to a drow torture chamber back in Menzoberranzan, his Underdark home city. While that brought back a slightly warm feeling of nostalgia for Kanyil, the thought of Aura being subjected to one of them—plus his mental calculations of exactly how long she would be able to survive one for—was rather distressing.

I really wish that these damnable humans would just grow up and stop clinging to their little technological toys, Kanyil grumbled inwardly. A few good Clerics would be able to have this place cleaned up in no time, but instead these human witch doctors are still clinging to what they think of as modern medicine. Gods help them.

So his search continued, albeit with a little more haste. If Aura was badly hurt out here while he was supposedly watching out for her, Laeryn wasn’t going to be very pleased. And much as Kanyil hated to admit it, he didn’t particularly fancy the thought of having a powerful elven mage angry with him.

After about an hour of searching through the battlefield in vain, bathed in darkness and taking for granted all of the pitiful humans who scurried about trying to save other pitiful humans, he came upon one of the last unchecked M*A*S*H* structures. This one was uncomfortably close to the giant ‘starship’ thing that the Canadians had parked on the hills; it may have been composed of 75,000 untrustworthy moving parts built by the lowest bidder, but there was always the chance that all of that technology might be able to detect him, even through the darkness or his magic. If he was going to get himself and Aura out of there, it would be best to avoid entanglements with the locals.

Unfortunately, it didn’t look like that was going to be possible. As he peeked inside this particular mobile hospital, he immediately brightened slightly upon seeing Aura’s limp body stretched out upon one of the cots. The realization that she was being hovered over by three humans—two big men and a woman in a white coat who already had a sharpened implement in her hand and was preparing to do some probe work—wasn’t quite so pleasant.

Kanyil’s years of training and overtly violent nature kicked in before he even quite realize it. Practically flying through the air, his black cloak fluttering behind him, the drow caught the closest human male across the face with an outstretched fist, the sheer momentum knocking the larger man away. He crashed into a table full of equipment and medical implements, then slumped to the floor, thoroughly dazed. The other beefy man had only just looked up at this point, but the only thing that he managed to see in time was Kanyil’s boot coming up to catch him in the face. He hit the floor unconscious at almost the exact same moment as the scalpel that the female ‘doctor’ had dropped in surprise. She now stared at the dark elf, utterly dumbfounded by what had just happened.

"Step away from her," Kanyil said calmly, no trace of fatigue in his voice despite having just dropped two men of twice his build. When the woman didn’t do anything noticeable except continue to gape, his patience began to wear thin. "Do you really want the same thing to happen to you? I don’t have any silly cultural conceptions against hurting women."

For a moment she continued to just stand there. Then, a few steps at a time, the doctor began to back away from the stretcher upon which Aura rested. Taking a good look at his friend’s sister, the drow immediately made a face; she had looked much better in her days. But judging from the various spots of healed flesh, she wasn’t wounded beyond recovery…which was good. Kanyil was a lot of things, but a doctor he certainly wasn’t, and he really didn’t want to have to apply emergency medical procedures to someone with a biological make-up as complicated as Aura’s. All the same, he would want to make sure to get her to a safe medical facility—or better yet, back to Laeryn—as soon as…

"All right, freeze!"

The drow’s head shot up to see the female human backed against a table covered with miscellaneous pieces of equipment. No longer was she cowering in disbelief, though; in her unwavering hands, pointed directly at him, was a large handgun, and set upon her face was a look of aggressive protectiveness. Kanyil stifled a sigh. He never would have credited the humans as being smart enough to stow weapons in their medical facilities.

Unfortunately for him, he had been wrong.

**********

Ravil sat upon the crest of the hill, gazing down upon the sea of darkness which sat like still waters over the serene Canadian landscape…the landscape which he knew so well, and had traversed for so long. Many times when his minions had thought that he was out shooting golf balls at midnight, Ravil had simply come out here to watch the utter calm. It was a long shot from his home planet of Char—the planet where he would certainly never slither to again—where constant volcanic activity kept the surface well-lit and usually smoldering hot. The tranquility of this fringe world often reminded the hunter killer of that, just by the stark contrast. On many nights he would come up here to get away from the incessant grunting of the Canuckalisks and the even more incessant whining of his Chancellor. He would always come up alone.

And now he was truly alone.

His mate—his semi-beloved Sofielisk—was dead. His daughter, the bright shining future of the Zerg and his personal key to returning to the Swarm in glory, had been stolen away from him by his worst enemy. His once-powerful legion of monstrous creatures had been reduced to a pair of not-so-very-mighty Zerg followers and that strange infested dwarf who kept hanging around.

All that he had left in the world was a promise.

"Ravil…d-don’t let it end this way, Ravil…"

"There’s nothing that I can do now," he breathed in the near-silence, which was punctuated only sporadically by shouts from the ruins of the battlefield somewhere behind him. He knew that he was right. He had tried to fight Kerrigan, had tried to stop her, but had failed miserably. And because of that failure, the only thing that he had been able to escape with had been his life. Even that he regretted. "Why couldn’t she have just killed me and been done with it?"

The hydralisk sat there, as if waiting for the darkness to answer his question. It remained in contemplative silence, however, and gave no reply to the woe of the lone Zerg Canadian. There didn’t seem to be anything that could be said.

In anger, Ravil rose and fired off a volley of needle spines blindly into the night, lashing out in the only way that he could at an enemy whom he could no longer see nor harm any longer. But the night air did nothing to betray any pain that it might have felt at the attack, save to whisk the needle spines away on the wind, far out of sight.

Or perhaps someone did feel something. Even as Ravil fell back to the ground in despair and helpless anger, his mind began to race, running circles around itself. He didn’t know what Kerrigan wanted with his daughter; before she had risen away in her Overlord he could literally hear her vile yet victorious thoughts flooding the Zerg psychic wavelength, but the only thing that had really stuck out in her mind had been thoughts regarding something called a ‘Preserver’. Ravil didn’t know what it meant. All that he knew was that it was somehow connected with Cajie, his daughter. The one who was now far away from this planet, too far for even Ravil to feel her presence within the Swarm. For all he knew, she could be dead.

"Ravil…d-don’t let it end this way, Ravil…"

His lover’s fleeting last words resounded inside of his head, fuelling the anger that he felt. Kerrigan…she was responsible for this malice. She had taken everything from him, everything but his life. It was the only thing that he could fight back with now. There were no more Canuckalisk hordes, and no more Cajie. Just him, along with a handful of suspiciously faithful minions, and a burning desire for one thing above all others…

Vengeance.

Slowly, he rose again, and shouted out to the darkness. "No…no, it’s not ending like this, Kerrigan! In the name of the Overmind, I swear that I’ll hunt you down and kill you for what you’ve done, even if it’s with my dying breath! Even if I have to chase you around the Antares Nebula and through the heart of the Protoss empire, I’ll find you, Kerrigan, and I will make you pay! You’ve hurt me in every way that you could think of, but you didn’t hurt me enough to stop me. And I will never stop until I’ve torn you limb from limb!" He shook a sharpened blade into the night air. "I swear it! You hear me, Kerrigan? I SWEAR IT!"

For a long while afterwards, he continued to stare off into the darkness, consumed by the moment, and his own need for revenge. Yes, he would find Kerrigan. He didn’t know how, or even when. But he knew that he would.

Then, from somewhere behind him, Ravil heard a rising commotion, and then…was that a gunshot? The echoing boom confirmed it a few moments later. Turning about, his serpentine eyes augmented by the numerous floodlights on the field, he could see a large number of humans scampering about, their attentions apparently focused upon a tent-like building that they had set up to help deal with the wounded. Ravil had never really been able to understand that about humans; in the Swarm, if a Zerg was too badly injured to regenerate, you just ate them. It completely eliminated the need for hospitals, medicines, or veterans’ funds. As he watched, though, another gunshot came, this time definitely from inside the tent. More commotion, confusion, and chaos followed suit.

And if there are three things that Zerg are attracted to in the galaxy, excluding anything edible, they are commotion, confusion, and chaos. With one final glance back towards the darkened steppes on the other side of the hill, Ravil began to slither over towards the tent, driven by curiosity as well as an ever-increasing rumbling in his three stomachs.

**********

Kanyil’s immediate reaction was not one of fear of the gun pointed at him, or even the sense of adrenaline-pumping urgency that usually struck when he was in danger. Rather, it was more a sense of severe irritation at himself for taking his eye off of that woman for even that brief second. Worse yet, given her rigid stance and proper hold on the gun, it looked like she actually knew what she was doing with the firearm. He didn’t particularly want to hurt her, but a professional—or even someone who was just passingly familiar with something—was much harder to disarm in a non-lethal fashion than was a fool who was trying to play hero.

" …I said drop the sword, smart guy!" the woman shouted, not taking her eyes—or the gun—off of the drow warrior for even a moment. "I will shoot you if you don’t!"

The dark elf’s mouth turned upwards in a curt smile. "This close to a patient? You wouldn’t dare."

He had counted on her eyes dropping for just a second to see exactly how close Aura, still lying unconscious on the cot, was to this madman. She didn’t however. "I’m a good shot," she growled back in a flat tone. Nodding his head slightly, Kanyil allowed his dagger to drop to the floor. This seemed to satisfy her for at least a second. "Now who in the hell are you to come barging into a hospital like this?"

Can’t hurt to try and talk my way out of this. "All that I want," he said with feigned patience, "is this woman. Let me have her and I’ll leave."

"Like hell," the human woman snapped. "She’s a patient, and she’s under our protection. GUARDS!"

"What are you going to do, poke her with needles until her heart stops beating? You don’t have any clue what her anatomy is. Let me have her and I’ll take her to a place where she might actually have a prayer of surviving."

"No."

"Just…give her to me and you won’t have to get hurt." The impatience was now seeping through like water through a hole the size of a Buick in a dam.

"GUARDS, GET IN HERE!" she shouted loudly, still hoping to arouse some attention. "No way, pal. The only ways that you’re going to be leaving here are in chains or in a body bag, depending on how much of a fuss you put up."

Mental note: forget about that career as a diplomat. The time for talking was clearly over. Those words hadn’t been off her lips for more than a fraction of a second before he moved, visible as little more than a black streak across the makeshift tent’s floor. He was almost surprised to hear the gun fire, as he hadn’t really expected her to have the nerve to shoot him in the end. But by the time she had depressed the trigger, he was already somewhere else, and the bullet passed by harmlessly, punching a hole in one of the tent flaps.

He streaked to the left, faster than the human eye could follow, maneuvering his way behind the cot upon which Aura rested. This woman must have been serious if she was going to risk pumping off rounds inside a room with a wounded patient in it. Either that or she was crazy. Both explanations seemed to fit properly, and both of them garnered that she was dangerous enough to employ a forceful take-down. The woman was only a handful of meters away, but she was on the opposite side of the cot from Kanyil, in a room cluttered with equipment, as well as a few other stretchers with subdued patients on them. For a human, or perhaps even another elf, maneuvering about in such a confined area could have presented a major tactical challenge.

But Kanyil was of the drow; he had grown up in the claustrophobic tunnels of the Underdark, where sometimes the ability to squeeze through openings only inches wide in the space of a few seconds could save your life—and in fact had in more than one instance. With practiced skill, he slid beneath the cot, barely brushing against it at all, and coming up right beneath the woman in the white lab coat. The dark elf heard her gasp in surprise, but she didn’t receive a chance to get out a full-fledged scream before Kanyil’s foot lashed out. He aimed for the belly, but she stumbled at the last second and he ended up catching her in the rib cage. The sound of the air rushing out of her lungs was a beautiful thing to the drow’s ears as she stumbled backwards and crashed to the ground. The gun which she had been clutching fell out of her hand, and Kanyil had to wince as it struck the floor, the force of the jar setting off another round, which ricocheted off of one of the tables and skimmed uncomfortably close to Aura’s still body. Glancing over at the woman, the dark elf saw that she now lay on the ground, gasping for air. Threat neutralized, he thought smugly.

A second later, though, the smugness died an untimely death. Shouting was heard immediately from outside the tent flaps, doubtlessly brought on by the gunshots, if not the woman’s calls for the guards only a few seconds before. Damn. Suddenly I’m not so enthusiastic about having just snuck past an entire army’s worth of soldiers. Any second now they’re all going to come barreling into this tent.

Kicking his legs up, the drow was back on his feet in a split second, and was already back at Aura’s side. She was of fair build, but it would be a challenge to carry her out of this place without being seen under the best of circumstances. With a mess of human soldiers bearing down on this place, it might very well prove to be impossible. Only two alternatives left: either risk a trans-Planar portal back to Sigil with a wounded woman who might very well not make the trip, or else fight it out. For a drow, it was no real choice at all; as quickly as he could, Kanyil bent over and scooped his assassin’s dagger up from the floor where he had dropped it. He was going to get them both out of here alive.

Unless the Canadians had anything to say about it, of course. From outside the tent, the shouting was beginning to surmount, and the mechanical clicking noises produced by weapons loading was likewise now audible. Automatic guns against a pair of sleek assassin daggers and one dark elf. Kanyil smiled widely. I wonder if they know how badly outmatched they are. Probably not. More sounds came from behind him; they were definitely surrounded. He briefly considered trying to culminate some sort of strategy, but decided against it. A little spontaneity might be refreshing.

The first Canadian soldier rushed into the tent, his khaki uniform streaked with mud and with his automatic pistol out and at the ready. He never got a chance to use it, though. Muttering a few memorized words, Kanyil stretched out his hand, and a second later flickers of light darted from it and towards the tall human male. Where they struck on the surprised man’s body, each individual flicker burst into a full-fledged flame, spreading across his torso and head and burning with all sorts of exotic colors. The man screamed in terror, his limbs lashing about in a vain effort to extinguish the flames. His cries followed him out of the tent as he stumbled backwards and fell back out into the open air.

"I wonder what he’s going to think twenty years from now when he looks back and realizes that he wet himself over a little harmless Faerie Fire," Kanyil said to himself, rather bemused. Still, when he went running out of the tent, it would have looked to his comrades outside as though he was burning with Hellfire or something. That might just provoke them to open fire on the tent blindly, regardless of the wounded inside. That’s what the drow would do, anyway, and he hadn’t had nearly enough contact with human beings yet to make a solid judgement on whether or not they would do the same thing.

Time to make an exit… With a bit of a heave, the dark elf picked up Aura’s limp body and slung her over his shoulder as best he could. Lolth’s blood, you’re heavier than you look, woman! Through his inherent natural infravision, Kanyil could see more humanoid shapes approaching and shouting, many of them carrying weapons that were considerably heavier than pistols. All that he had left was a handful of precious seconds. Fortunately, that was all that he needed.

He uttered a few more arcane words, and just as the tent flaps burst open again and numerous humans poured in, the entire tent was filled with pitch darkness. Not just any darkness, either; it was an inky blackness that was impenetrable to all light, produced by a crafty magical spell used by the dark elf residents of the shadowy Underdark. For millennia it had been a key element not only in the way that the drow fought, but in how they lived as well. Drow infravision could pierce the unrelenting darkness, allowing them to see in it as though it were clear day. The humans, however…

Since it had been dark outside, it took the onrushing soldiers a few seconds to fully comprehend just how dark it had become inside the tent. Once that realization set in, they fell into complete disarray, tripping over equipment and tables, fumbling about blindly, groping for something to hold onto to regain their bearings. Kanyil almost smiled. Under normal circumstances he would have traditionally taken the opportunity to make use of their complete blindness and kill them. But with Aura’s weight on his back and the spell having a limited duration, he knew that every moment counted. Guided by his infravision, and staggering only slightly under the woman’s weight, he bolted for the tent’s entrance, passing right past several of the inept humans so close that he could have touched them…or slipped a dagger into their rib cages.

The cold night air bathed him once more as he darted out underneath the stars again. Only now did he realize just how many humans there were out here. Dozens of them surrounded the place, although only a scant few carried weapons. Still, all it would take would be one of them to spot their getaway attempt, and they were in jeopardy again.

The darkness field didn’t extend for very far outside of the tent, and it could hardly follow the drow about where he moved, but his natural stealth capabilities coupled with the night outside granted at least some security. The doctors and soldiers who had gathered around the medical tent continued to scream and shout orders as he passed, but none of them seemed to be directed at him. In a few moments they would be safely away from the crowd, and after that it would be no challenge at all to get clear of the battlefield and…

"ARGH!" the scream shot out from his mouth almost completely in sync with the abrupt pain that tore through his right leg. Shot! Even before the dark elf hit the ground, another bolt caught him in the same leg, this time just under his kneecap. He felt himself tumble helplessly to the muddy prairie surface, dropping Aura like a dead weight. Writhing on the ground, he gingerly felt his leg only to find that it was no bullet that had hit him; the object was slender and almost spine-like.

His vision rippling as the toxins embedded into the spines began to take effect, Kanyil groaned and turned his head as a large figure walked towards him…no, not walked. Slithered.

"You’re not the only one around here who can see in the dark, drow," the hydralisk Ravil hissed with satisfaction as Kanyil gazed up at him. The dark elf tried to reach for his daggers, but the toxins were already pumping through him. The last thing that he saw were humans rushing towards him from every direction…

…And then, nothing.

**********

It was done.

The living star fleet of Zerg hovered in erratic formation above the world of Celtris IV, as it had been for weeks now. Only a handful of Protoss Scouts which had breached the asteroid belt and a pair of stray Terran freighters had provided any amount of amusement for the half-sentient Swarm which was gathered around this world. They had been told to simply wait; defend themselves if necessary, but to take no other actions until the driving consciousness returned.

But now…now it had returned, and the purpose of this huge massing of Zerg—a large percentage of the extended Swarm itself—would be fully realized.

Deep within the heart of the living fleet bobbed the huge Overlord which served as the vessel of transport for the driving consciousness, Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades. Within its rank depths, the final pieces of the grand design were being pushed into place. The infested terran’s hands still lay intently upon the hydralisk known as Cajie’s deformed crest, the psionic activity flowing between the two of them nearly off the primitive human charts. At last, the final barriers had been broken down, and the young one’s mind lay exposed like an open book. And it was to that open book that Kerrigan held the pen to.

"Open your eyes," Kerrigan rasped softly, still linked mind-to-mind with the formerly renegade hydralisk. "Open your eyes, my child, and embrace the glory that is your birthright. Know that I am Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades, and that you have been brought to me to fulfill a special purpose within the Zerg Swarm."

At first, there was nothing. Then, ever so slowly, Cajie’s eyes opened, the youthful glow that had come from being a part of the Zerg Canadians for all of her short life now vanished without a trace. When Kerrigan now stared into her new minion’s beady eyes, she could see only one thing.

Herself.

"There is a being in the depths of the universe known as the Preserver," she continued, saying the name as though it were some sort of obscenity. "It guards a power that even I cannot imagine: the cosmic energy of a thousand astral planes. But I can’t take this power for my own by myself; I have tried and failed." Kerrigan made a bitter face. "This time we shall attack in vast numbers to weakened the Preserver; that is the purpose of this fleet. It too shall fail. But where everything else in the galaxy might be defeated, you shall succeed, my minion, because only you have mastery over reality. Your purity of essence is truly just that…far more so than the superficial qualms of the rest of the Zerg. You are in perfect harmony with the universe. You shall succeed." A vicious grin spread over the Queen of Blades’ face. "And when you do, I shall be there to seize the power which you have provided me with."

Cajie’s head nodded, no longer of her own free will. Whatever consciousness and individuality she had clutched before was now gone, shattered. Kerrigan’s grip on her was ten times stronger than over any of her other lesser minions. The hatchling hydralisk was hers.

Kerrigan threw back her head and laughed, the echo resounding loudly within the cavernous innards of the Overlord. Soon all would be in readiness, and the attack would be commenced upon her order. After that, there would be no stopping her. Every hated planet in this entire galaxy…nay, in the entire universe would feel the wrath of the Queen of Blades.

**********

"Y’know, he’s going to be pissed when he wakes up."

Ravil looked over at the pessimistic Emperor of Canada in disgust. "Look, all I did was shoot him in the leg. If I’d managed to hit his head or his reproductive organs or something, then he’d have an excuse to be angry. As it is you managed to patch him up just fine, right?"

The two Canadians—one Zerg and one almost human, stood inside the Canuck II’s extensive medical facility, which was loaded with every state-of-the-art piece of medical equipment that the Dominion could conceive. The med-lab was still flooded with wounded from the battle, but one of the high-security beds had been cleared for Kanyil, whom everybody clearly acknowledged as being a lot more dangerous than any wounded soldier. This section of the lab had been cleared out especially for him, and a partial stasis field had been constructed around his lower body to keep the dark elf in place. He didn’t look quite so harmful lying there on the bed, drugged into tranquility. Aside from Fron and Ravil, the only other person present was Doctor Anne Turner, who had managed to escape from the fight with Kanyil with only a few minor bruises and a big scare. She eyed the dark elf warily, and seemed to carry more than a little bitterness.

"He’ll live," she growled. "Unfortunately. Only one of the spines actually pierced through the leg bone, and even that damage was fairly easy to repair. He’ll be back on his feet again in a few days." She glared over at Fron. "And by that time, I want him well away from here, okay?"

"Oh come on!" laughed the hunter killer. "He couldn’t have hit you that hard."

"Shut up, Ravil," Fron scoffed, then turned to the doctor in concern. "Doctor, are you sure that you’re all right? I mean, after the traumatic experience you were through, wouldn’t it be a good idea to rest for a while before…"

"I’m fine," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "But you and your…uh…companion here said that you wanted to ask this patient a few questions once he was stable. I’m just a little bit busy right now, so are you going to or not?"

"Right." Fron exclaimed, a little too quickly. "Questions. Ravil, what do we want to ask him?"

The hydralisk rolled his eyestalks. "Maybe why he was here in the first place?"

The Emperor cast a sheepish grin over towards his Chief Medical Officer. "Yeah…heh, heh…okay, let’s get started then. If you would be so kind as to wake her…er…him up doctor…"

With a nod, the doctor retrieved a pre-readied needle from a platter beside the bed upon which Kanyil lay, and with a slight flourish and—was that a grin of satisfaction?—she plunged the needle into the dark elf’s carotid artery and injected the contents. Within a few seconds, Kanyil’s body twitched with life, and ever so slowly his eyes began to flutter open, staring around in dysfunction at his surroundings. After a few seconds, he focused on Fron and sighed remorsefully.

"I guess I’m not dead," the drow said softly. "Not unless you’re Lolth and the afterlife is designed far more poorly than I had been led to believe."

"Believe it or not, I’ve heard that before," Fron scowled.

"Hello DarkLight," Ravil grinned, showing all of his uncomfortably pointy teeth. "Remember me?"

"Yes," replied the dark elf bitterly. "You’re the one that I’m going to kill as soon as I can move my arms and legs." He glowered down at the stasis field in which he was imprisoned.

"I mean remember me, you dumb elf!" the King of the Canuckalisks said in exasperation. "We’ve met before! Remember the…uh…amulet and the black widow’s nest?"

For a moment the drow said nothing, but then that distant spark of recognition filled his eyes. "Ravil. So nice to know that it’s you I’m going to be murdering."

"Give me a break. I spared your life when I could have clawed you into bite-sized pieces and served you as an appetizer. Shouldn’t I get credit for that or something? You drow have to have some sort of life debt system."

Kanyil shook his head. "No."

The hydralisk turned over to Fron. "Maybe we’d better keep him locked up for a while, in that case."

"Look, Kanyil, much as you might deserve death for hurting our good doctor here," Fron said, throwing a significant glance at the woman, who wasn’t even looking his way, "all that we want to know for now is what the hell you’re doing breaking into medical tents, assaulting the lovely doctors there, and trying to spirit away the patients!"

The drow, however, remained silent. A small, knowing smile was planted upon his face, almost as though he was defying the Canadians to do their best.

There was a long moment of silence before Doctor Turner’s impatience set in. "He isn’t going to say anything. Can we just get on with the lethal injection? Please?"

Kanyil cringed slightly at that but otherwise retained his calm composure. "You really don’t have any idea of just how easily I could get out of this, do you?"

"You mean with all of your little ‘magical’ spells, pal?" the Doctor scoffed. "That’s what the stasis field is up for. It should be able to stop any of your attempts to dissolve into thin air or whatever else it is that you can do."

The dark elf shook his head in awe. "You people really don’t have any understanding of how magic works, do you?"

"Look, will you just answer the damn question?" Fron barked, his inherent redneck impatience finally winning over. "What are you doing here?"

"You also don’t have any comprehension of just how much sheer amusement I could derive from not telling you and watching you pull your hair out and stamp your feet. You humans have some of the most underrated responses to irritating stimuli out of any of the races I’ve seen on any Plane."

"We could always torture you."

"Doubtful." Kanyil grinned. "You’re also all so aloft in your ‘ethical codes’ that I doubt you’d stoop to torture. Besides, there’s little that you could possibly do to me that I haven’t already experienced tenfold. Menzoberranzan isn’t a place for idle tourists."

"Well, I’m sure that our doctor here could whip something up," the Emperor growled as menacingly as he could. "We find a former member of CWL, who possibly still has ties to them, snooping around a Canadian army regiment. We don’t take too kindly to espionage up here…"

"I think that stupidity breeds on this planet," the dark elf said through clenched teeth. "Why would I be trying to sneak off with one of the patients if I was trying to spy on your pathetic army? Breaking into an inadequately-defended field hospital, taking out the unimportant wenches inside…"

"Hey!"

"…causing a huge commotion, and then forcing my way back out again with half the army on my back. Yes Fron, of course I’m a spy."

Fron was at a slight loss for words. When he did find his tongue, though, it was Doctor Turner that he was addressing. "I’ll make sure that he doesn’t get away with making fun of you, doctor. Why, to so blatantly insult somebody of your caliber is like…like…"

"Look, human," Ravil hissed, breaking his long silence. "If you want to mate with this female, why don’t you just say so? It’s so much simpler than having to do all of this talking to get her interested."

"I agree," piped up Kanyil. "Just take her out back and…"

Canada’s all-powerful Emperor took that strategic moment to turn on his heels and storm out the med-lab door, his face red enough to be mistaken for a boiled ham. Not really wanting to be left alone in a room with a hydralisk and a drow—and perhaps for some other reasons too—Doctor Turner quickly backed out of the medical bay, mumbling some excuse under her breath, and followed Fron down the corridor.

For a long moment, Ravil and Kanyil regarded each other calmly. Then, the hydralisk slithered over to where the circuit board for the stasis field was kept. He scrutinized it for a minute or so, nodding his head and trying to look like he knew what he was doing. But since hydralisks can’t read, the effort was in vain. Finally, though, Ravil became irritated with trying to figure out how to work the stasis field, so instead raised a claw and brought it down violently into the middle of the control panel. The board sparked and sputtered for a few seconds, and then went dead, as did the stasis field surrounding Kanyil which it controlled.

The dark elf threw him a bitter look. "I hope you aren’t expecting me to be grateful or anything."

"Just get out of here," Ravil snapped, adding an empathic hiss for emphasis. "When I shot you out there, it was because I thought it was our Aura that you were trying to cart away. She might be a smelly, festering human being, but I’ve found that she comes in handy once in a while." He tapped the wrecked console with one of his claws. "Turns out I was wrong. She isn’t ours, so you might as well leave. My deepest, darkest desires don’t really include making an enemy out of a dark elf."

"Oh, well, as long as it was all just a mistake, then…" Kanyil said sarcastically. "But you’re sure that she hasn’t been infested by you lizard-slug…things?"

"I’d be able to tell if she was infested. She isn’t. But that still leaves the question of where our Aura went off to. I haven’t seen her since we sent her off into the tunnels."

"She’s likely dead," Kanyil replied, sitting up and testing his healed leg gingerly. "I think that might have been the reason that Aura came up here in the first place…to kill her double. She’s been rather irritated about the entire situation for a while now."

The hydralisk looked slightly pained. "Damn. We’re going to need to find somebody else to clean all that Plague out of the Lair, then. I wonder if that Nabob character is still around somewhere…"

He gave the hunter killer a quizzical look. "Plague? Did you manage to release some hideous contagion onto this planet that I should be aware of?" The drow did a double-take. "And speaking of which, what exactly were you Zerg-things doing in the midst of a human grunt war like this anyway?"

"No, no deadly diseases or anything that you have to worry about." Ravil sighed. "That might have actually been a good idea six months ago…or even six weeks ago. But now…" Then, without hesitation, he launched himself into the story. The eggs, the Slayers, Cajie, Kerrigan, everything. He didn’t know why he abruptly decided to pour it all out, nor did he care. All of the hate and anger inside of him seemed to come bubbling out, spilling all over the floor as would blood for all to see. The drow looked on with quiet fascination as the hydralisk retold the tale of woe, culminating with the Queen of Blades’ capture of his daughter and subsequent flight from the battlefield. After that, there was a quiet moment between the two of them. After a few minutes, it was Kanyil who spoke.

"That’s all very heartbreaking," the drow’s mock reply came. "I only have one question."

"What?"

"What exactly did Kerrigan want with this daughter of yours anyway?" Kanyil asked. "I don’t want to think too hard about how this hatchling was conceived, but what was it about her that Kerrigan wanted badly enough to cross half the galaxy to get her hands on?"

"Cajie was…special, somehow…" Ravil hissed. "Maybe it was the Slayer blood that was splashed onto her. Maybe it was just a result of having such a masculine, virile hydralisk like me for a father…" Kanyil rolled his eyes, "…but whatever it was, she came out differently. She had…had powers! I tried fighting her, and it seemed that she could manipulate reality as though it were a plaything to her! If she had been older and been able to use it with more wisdom, she could have done anything." He let out a rancid sigh again. "But Cydric told Kerrigan about it, and she came for Cajie. When she arrived and had us in her grasp, she kept on muttering something about some kind of a ‘balance’."

The dark elf nodded his head. "That makes sense. Your slimy little lizard hatchling could have been in perfect balance with the universe. That would explain these ‘powers’ that you were talking about; a pure balance between good and evil could conceivably have at least partial control over reality. To a degree, anyway." His slender brow wrinkled. "That doesn’t explain what Kerrigan wanted with her, though. Sure, she might be a powerful weapon individually, but you wouldn’t be able to recreate something just like that."

"Why not?"

"Because for something to be in such harmony with reality requires a lot of luck. It’s not just environmental or even circumstantial, although those things can contribute." Kanyil glared. "Give me some credit here. I’ve been walking the Planes of reality since before you were even a slimy little chromosome. You’d think that I know a little bit about them."

"Oh, so you’ve seen a hydralisk who can dodge bullets and toss you into the air without touching you?" Ravil snarled.

"All you creatures on this Plane are so close-minded," the dark elf scowled. "No, I haven’t seen one of those before. It’s the principle. And no, I’ve never before met a creature of perfect balance. They don’t appear too often, and those gifted with it usually use it for self-destructive purposes. It’s a good thing too, or else there might not be a multiverse left."

Ravil gawked. "What, you mean that my daughter could destroy everything in creation? Why in the blazes didn’t I think of that before? I could have held the entire universe for ransom!"

"She can’t do it directly, idiot," Kanyil said. "She doesn’t have anywhere near that much power. But what she could do is—," he stopped himself. "Well, I don’t want to get you thinking that deeply. It involves the higher workings of the multiverse, and you’d probably sooner die from the knowledge than be able to do anything useful with it. Besides, the chances are negligible."

"Chances of what?"

"Didn’t I tell you not to worry about it?" the dark elf demanded. The distantly hungry look on Ravil’s face seemed to change his mind slightly, though, especially given that none of his weapons were present in the medical bay. "The chances of her knowing anything about the Preserver are negligible. It’s a long shot from common knowledge on any Plane."

Ravil’s face perked slightly. "Actually, just when that infested wretch was running away, I caught the tail-end of one of her thoughts. She was broadcasting rather loudly, so I couldn’t really help but pick them up. And she said something about a preserver…and something about it not being able to stand up to her malignant wrath and other rhetorical crap like."

The dark elf’s breath seemed to catch in his throat, and a chill seemed to run across his flesh like a frightened animal. It took him a few moments to find words. "You…had better hope…that you are joking, Zerg…"

This seemed to unsettle the hydralisk. "Uh…no, not really…"

In the flash of an eye, before Ravil could even blink, the drow was on him. The dark streak through the air which was Kanyil caught him completely off-guard, and the sheer momentum knocked the hydralisk to the ground. There was a momentary scuffle, but Kanyil quickly came out on top, hand slipped beneath the armored plates of Ravil’s throat and pressed against his jugular.

"Are you insane?" the hunter killer tried to snarl out.

"Be still," the dark elf growled in reply, eyes full of deadly earnest. "If you are being anything but serious right now, I will kill you, weapons or not. Understood?" Ravil managed to nod his head. "Good. Now, you are absolutely certain that you heard Kerrigan speak of the Preserver? And I mean completely certain?"

"Y-Yes! Just before she was pulled into her Overlord!"

Kanyil paused, then closed his eyes and let out a breath of tortured anxiety. "I never believed it would happen…I never wanted to believe that it would happen. But if what you say is true, then…it has." He stared the hydralisk right in the eye. "Listen to what I’m about to say very carefully, icebox-dweller. It’s not every day that you hear the secrets of the universe revealed to you, so don’t just go filing this away in your brain alongside memories of the first time you experienced intercourse or your favourite recipe for chocolate brownies. This is important, so pay attention.

"The multiverse—the ultimate extension of your single universe—is divided into self-contained realities, also known as the Planes. Probably the gods themselves don’t know exactly how many there are, because they stretch on forever and ever. But for them to go on indefinitely like that, there must be a focal point, a multiversal convergence of all the astral Planes." He took in another breath. "That convergence, that focal point of all the Planes of reality, is the power behind Sigil, the City of Doors, and so many other Planeswalker portals. You have no comprehension of what that means, having never been there, but take my word for it, hydralisk: the power of the Convergence is absolute. If one were to disrupt it or wield it, they could lord over the Planes as a god."

"Fascinating," coughed the hunter killer, "but what’s this Preserver you’re talking about?"

"The Preserver is another absolute in the multiverse…there is but one, and can only ever be one. It exists at the Convergence, because the awesome powers folding together there need to maintained…and guarded against interlopers and those who would attempt to take it for their own. Your Kerrigan, for instance, if this is indeed what she has in mind. The Preserver is powerful in the way that it can become one with reality at the Convergence, making it immune to corporeal attacks of any kind. Projectiles, swords, steel, even the mightiest of magic is useless, or so the legends claim."

"So what’s the big deal? If this Preserver is so strong, then it should be able to take on anything that Kerrigan can throw at it…"

"Truly this is a world of idiots," Kanyil seethed. "You hear, but haven’t you been listening? Many have tried to take down the Preserver. Likely every demi-god or power in the Planes who knows about it has attempted it once or twice before realizing that it was futile. I would lose complete confidence in our friend Sephroth if he hadn’t taken at least one poke at the Preserver by this time. None of them have been able to prevail, though, because to attack the Preserver is like trying to attack the universe itself…it can’t be done. Or at least, it can’t be done by anybody…except for one who is in complete harmony with that universe."

It took a few seconds for the realization to sink in for Ravil, who was still pinned on the floor. When it did, though, one could almost see his carapace pale. "Cajie…"

"Exactly," the drow hissed. "Now you see the problem. If Kerrigan now has a weapon under her control which can fight or destroy the Preserver, then the power of the Convergence is as good as hers. And once she has that power, then she will be able to do anything. Snuff out lives. Destroy worlds. Crumple whole realities as if they were pieces of paper! Zerg, your little hatchling could very well be the conveyor of a universal apocalypse."

Damn. I knew we should have used those condoms, was the first thought to pass through Ravil’s head. But he and Sofie hadn’t, leaving him now with a huge problem where once his affection had been. His second thought was more somber. "How do we stop them?"

At last Kanyil rose up, releasing his grip on Ravil’s throat and scampering backwards a few seconds before the hydralisk could take a swipe at him. "We do nothing. I don’t care what you do with this knowledge…perhaps some good might come of my having given it to you. As for me, I’m going to take Aura, go find Laeryn, and then get out of here to some quiet, backwater Plane that isn’t worth destroying. I’d rather live out at least part of my life there than go gallivanting right into my death trying to save the universe." He gave a short, knowing smile. "I’ll leave that to you." The dark elf then brushed himself off and headed towards the door. "Now, since I just revealed the secrets of existence to you, I expect to be able to walk out of here unharmed. I’m going to go find Aura—again—and after that we’re leaving. I don’t particularly want to be on this planet when it goes up in smoke." He cast one final, solemn look towards Ravil. "The way I see it, you can either stay here and die, or you can make some sort of effort to circumvent this disaster. I don’t know if there’s a thing you can do, but if you intend to try, you’ll need to open a portal directly to the Convergence, and try to intercept them there."

"Gee, that helps a lot," the hydralisk growled, rubbing his neck as he rose back up off of the floor. "Maybe if I just wave my magic wand, one will come into existence. Or better yet, why don’t you do that? You’re the one with all the magic!"

"Only cursory. For something like this you’d need someone like Laeryn…and he obviously isn’t around here."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

The dark elf shrugged. "Find yourself another magic-user. But I’m leaving now…if this Kerrigan woman manages to take the power, then this Plane is going to be her first target for destruction, and I’m not going to be on it when that happens."

With that, the drow was gone, lost in the shadows of the corridors outside the med-lab, without even footsteps to mark his passing. Then, Ravil was alone once again in the ‘secure’ medical wing of the tattered Canuck II. But now, at least, he had some knowledge of what was happening, of exactly why Kerrigan had wanted Cajie badly enough to go through all this trouble to get her. It all made too much sense, even to his reptilian mind. And now, more than ever, he knew what he had to do. It wasn’t just a matter of saving the future of the Zerg Canadians, or Cajie, or even himself now. It was now a matter of saving everything that there was to save.

Somehow that didn’t make Ravil feel as warm and fuzzy inside as he thought it ought to have.

**********

There would be no more waiting; the time had come. The glorious moment was upon them: the glorious moment in which the Zerg would prove to all the universe their superiority by defeating that which was undefeatable. The living, pulsating fleet above the planet Celtris IV had been ready for some time now, awaiting nothing more than the go-ahead signal from its dark mistress. They knew not where to go or what to do, but at last the order had gone out: mobilize.

Kerrigan leaned her head back, basking in the mental energies that radiated from the fleet of Zerg flying creatures all around her. It had been too long since she had felt their presence within her, been side by side with the pure essence of the Zerg. It felt good, especially now that she had what she had yearned so long to make her own. Finally, the key to the ascension belonged to her. Everything was in place…everything was perfect.

The only thing left to do now was open the door.

When she had first learned of the Preserver and begun to crave the power it safeguarded, Kerrigan remembered, she had been brash and overconfident, and that had led to her defeat. But what she had learned from that experience had been invaluable: especially the fact that this power did exist. Also, at the time she had barely been able to open a dimensional warp gate to the Preserver’s realm large enough for herself to squeeze through. Now, thanks to the plundered Si’Var texts, she had more than enough knowledge—and more than enough power within her fleet—to open a portal a hundred times the size. Through this massive doorway the Zerg fleet would pass, and from there into the Preserver’s domain at the focal point of existence. The full weight of the Zerg Swarm would be brought to bear against the hated Preserver. Even though it might prove to be a futile gesture, there would still be no chances taken this time around.

It was time. Her minions grew restless and anxious to engage in glorious battle, and she could even feel the excitement swelling within herself. Whether it grew within her or precipitated from the other Zerg she didn’t know, nor did she care. They were one, and as One they would conquer all.

Kerrigan threw a glance over towards Cajie, still placidly wrapped in the protective fibers of the Overlord’s innards, still as much under her control as any of the other Zerg within the fleet. Perhaps more so, even…it was imperative that she keep that control for as long as possible once they arrived. It had to be ingrained so thoroughly that the link could not be broken…so thoroughly that they would be one singular consciousness. That part of the plan was vital.

But it was also already taken care of. The young hydralisk was utterly under the vigil of the Queen of Blades now.

Slowly, she began to focus all of the energy, all of the psionic projections from each of her minions around her, culminating to a single buildup of psychic energy within her own mind. There it focused, refined, and built…until at last it reached the critical mass. Kerrigan had done this before, more than a hundred times at least, and yet this time she could feel the trepidation building within her as well. If all went well, then her crusade for glory would begin. If not…then it might never start at all. Everything had to be perfect, had to be…

Her eyes closed, and then a moment later shot open again, flashing with inner fire and glowing with an overflow of psychic energy. There was no room for error. No room for error. No room for…

The energy rippled out of her mind, searing through space and dancing on the fringes of the visible spectrum. It slashed out from the fleet in a great cascading wave, culminating itself once more a few thousand kilometers away. A few tense seconds passed…and then the great nether of space was literally torn asunder as the trans-warp gate formed out of nothingness. As Kerrigan gazed upon it with her mind’s eye, satisfaction flooded through her. It has been done! The dimensional portal was huge, easily big enough to move the entire fleet. The part of it’s interior that was visible crackled with sizeable energy manifestations far greater than those found within conventional Zerg warp gates. But that was to be expected. After all, their next destination was the focal point of all creation.

"My minions, forward with me!" she couldn’t stop herself from shouting out loud as she relayed the mental command to the rest of the fleet, and felt the Overlord surge forward. She was drained from the effort, but that was acceptable: if everything went well, it wouldn’t be her that was doing the fighting. One last look over at Cajie, just to assure that the young hydralisk was still at her command. Then it was time to commence. "Through the portal, my Swarm! For the glory of the Queen of Blades!"

**********

"Hold yer haggus, laddie…I dinna know if I kin do what yer askin’ here!"

The dawn’s early light was beginning to creep back over the horizon again, spilling it’s radiance across the tortured Albertan landscape and revealing fully the folly of the previous day. Ambulances and other emergency vehicles were still making their rounds dutifully, although the frenzied rush had long since been replaced by exhaustion. Medical teams, their search now renewed and replenished with the help of the daylight, were still sweeping the battlefield, hoping to locate any last wounded soldiers that had been left helpless all night long. A number of odd-looking creatures stood out, however, from the flurry of human activity behind them. Sitting about near the CMS Canuck II atop the hill, where they had ended up spending most of the night, were the quartet of Zerg Canadians. Cydric and Turtle, having spent most of the night scouring the field for appetizingly dismembered body parts, were looking rather loggy but were still at attention.

Ravil, who had returned outside to the open air a while ago, was focusing his attention entirely upon the plump little dwarf named Palin who had supposedly returned with Turtle from the dead. The hydralisk didn’t remember that much about the infested dwarf, but he did remember at least one thing.

"Look, I know that you have magical abilities, runt!" Ravil was exclaiming. "You had that magic trick where you made that Canuckalisk turn into a dancing ballerina with a tutu!" His multiple stomachs growled at the memory, and he only then realized just how long it had been since he had eaten.

"Aye, but that was s’posed to be a goat who kud sing ‘Prima Noctes’, ach!" the dwarf protested. "M’magic’s tew unstable fer what yew’ve got in mahnd for it!"

"All I’m asking is whether or not you can open up a portal to the center of the universe! Is that really too much to ask?"

"Laddie, ya dinnah understand what yer askin’ for here! Yah kannah jus open up a door lahk that and scoot yer kilts inside! It ain’t that simple! Ye gotta have years of practice tah dew what yer tookin’ about, newt just a crash course in spell castin’!"

"Look…," growled the hydralisk, "…could you do it?"

Palin huffed himself up. "Ah kewd, mebbe, boot yer more likely to wind up in Glasgow than in the center of the universe."

This wasn’t pleasing for Ravil. "Why do I always have to get stuck with all of the half-wit minions? Isn’t there anybody in this horde aside from me who can do anything right for a change!"

Suddenly, Turtle’s voice sprang up. "Sire, I just had a thought…"

"Quiet, you! I’m busy rambling! Out of all of the inept abominations in the extended Swarm, I had to get saddled with a bunch who can’t even open a teensy weensy little portal so that we can save the universe! I can’t believe you bunch of little ingrates…"

"Sire…"

"Just one little task that I ask you to perform, and you can’t do it? I knew that I should have done my shopping for mindless little stooges at Crazy Zasz’s Used Zerg Depot…"

"SIRE!"

He turned to Turtle in annoyance. "You have something to add, General?"

"Yes!" the zergling half-snarled, half-sighed in exasperation. "Sire, our dwarf friend here might not be able to open a portal to this ‘Preserver’ that you told us about…" he turned to Palin, "but if there was a portal already in existence, do you think that you might be able to…I don’t know…guide it or something?"

The infested dwarf considered this. "Aye, laddie…I dew think I maht be able to dew that. But where are ye gonna find a portal around here?"

"There!" Turtle exclaimed, stabbing a claw through the air towards where the Canuck II was resting upon the heath. "Sire, that ship is equipped with Protoss Recall Devices…and remember when we were fighting against them back on Char? They can drill right through space to its destination instantaneously. If Palin here could use his magic to direct the Recall portal, then we still have a fighting chance."

"There’s no ‘we’ involved here, Turtle. I’m going in by myself."

The zergling shook his head and took a long puff on his cigar. "No way, sire. I just came back from the dead to fight by your side, and I’ll be damned—again—if I let you go through there by yourself!"

"Sire…" came Cydric’s far meeker voice as well, "I know that you think I’m a traitor and everything, but…this is all my fault to begin with, and if we’re going to try and stop Kerrigan, then I want to be there to help."

The King of the Canuckalisks regarded his minions for a long moment before replying. "All right, both of you are coming with me, then. Maybe you’re not so worthless after all. And you…" he beckoned towards Palin, "…well, I guess that remains to be seen. Let’s get back to the ship. We’re going to have to convince Fron of this if we’re going to use his Recall device." The hydralisk scowled. "A bunch of insane Zerg using a Protoss contraption to save the multiverse from another insane Zerg. You can’t tell me there’s no irony in this."

**********

It knew that they were coming even before they arrived.

The Preserver had fought off armies before, sent by those races whom had been foolish enough to truly believe that it could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Already it knew what it was facing, even as the warp gate from the corporeal plane began to open. She had returned, and this time she was far from alone.

Kerrigan. She and her Zerg armies were on the threshold of arriving.

It had routed her once before, casting her back to her own realm in utter defeat. But even in doing so, the Preserver had sensed uncertainty towards her, and towards its own future. It had known that she would return eventually…but secretly it had been wary that this time it would be different. And that difference it feared. The portal to the Preserver’s realm was beginning to take shape, and the entities that were about to come through were braced on the other side, their murderous excitement far preceding them. They had come to kill the Preserver.

The unwavering cyan glow which stretched off into the depths of infinity and composed the Preserver’s sacred vigil was suddenly disturbed as a section of space blistered, then tore itself open, illuminating the Preserver’s sorrowful form briefly. All of these mortals…so self-destructively greedy… Then, the first of them began to arrive. Great, powerful-looking creatures, all with thick vacuum-sealed carapaces to protect them from the ravages of space from whence they had come. First a few dozen came through…then hundreds of the horrific flying beings poured out of the warp gate’s entrance, all driven by psionic commands from a source somewhere within them…a source that the Preserver knew in its essence to be the Queen of Blades. None of these beasts had a freedom of their own: they were all mere instruments to be used as extensions of their dark mistress’ will.

Still, the Preserver probed the alien creatures’ thoughts and minds as best it could, learning everything about them. Mutalisk…Devourer…Guardian…Overlord… These names meant little to the celestial being, as it knew that none of them alone—or even combined—would have the power to topple it. But from within this massive living fleet which now headed towards its position, it could feel within the horde of beasts another presence…one that was entirely unfamiliar not only to the Zerg that surrounded it, but to the Preserver itself too. No matter how deeply it attempted to probe, it could never quite reach the creature’s essence. All that it knew was that this unidentified presence too was under Kerrigan’s control.

"I have returned, Preserver, just as I swore that I would," the Queen of Blades’ psionic beckon tumbled through the astral plane. "This time your folly will be complete. You should have killed me when you had the chance, because now I am here to take from you that which you prize the most." There was a brief hesitation before she sent out a single mental commandment to all of her minions. "ATTACK!"

The Preserver stood its ground, its form—that of an old man—glowing brightly against the cyan backdrop, even as the huge fleet of fierce creatures charged forth towards him. Their unified onrushing form would have terrified even mortals with the strongest of wills, but still the Preserver stood, the old man which it had manifested itself as staring calmly off into space. The Zerg struck as one, their various biological weapons all firing simultaneously, all homing in on the Preserver. Its ‘vision’ was obscured as a barrage of acid spores, glave wurms, and explosive pressurized shells struck its form. The vicious creatures known as mutalisks tore directly towards the old man, firing off their glave wurms until the last minute when they pulled up, then began to circle back around. The larger, less maneuverable creatures stayed at a distance, circling like buzzards around the Preserver’s manifested form and pelting it with gobs of highly acidic ooze and poisonous spores. Within moments a huge pinwheel of Zerg flyers had formed above him, their firepower raining down like hellfire.

But as their first volley of fire gave way, the Preserver remained exactly where it had been before, with the exact same calmness etched upon its face, utterly unscathed by the barrage.

"I see that our first encounter taught you nothing, Sarah Kerrigan," the Preserver sighed. "You attempt to overwhelm me with sheer numbers, do you? See how much your superior force truly benefits you."

Without another word, the old man closed his eyes and folded his hands. The bombardment of acidic substances renewed itself, as the Queen of Blades had obviously heard him, but the Preserver shrugged it off as though it were not even happening. Lightning flashed through the boundless void that made up the Preserver’s realm, crackling and rolling as if part of a giant storm. The cascading energy built up within his form until a sphere composed of electromagnetic power formed around him, deflecting any and all of the shots that were targeted upon his person. Then, with a flash, jagged lightning bolts streamed from the sphere, slashing through the void and striking the Zerg fleet with the utmost brutality. Whichever Zerg creature one of the bolts struck was immediately incinerated. Dozens of lightning streams poured out, ravaging the living fleet more with every passing second. Any attempts to return fire on the part of the Zerg were not only futile, but fatal, as the Preserver lashed out savagely in defiance of their determination. In less than a minute the great flying horde had been reduced to less than half of its original number—and that was the result of only a lesser spell, the Preserver snorted to itself. Either this Kerrigan creature had a death wish, or else…

Suddenly, it caught a powerful psychic burst from nearby, and without hesitation, the entire fleet of Zerg broke off its attack and began to fall back, much to the Preserver’s surprise. It hadn’t expected Kerrigan to relent and show her person until every last one of her lesser minions had been killed. This was indeed something new.

The swarms of Zerg flyers quickly withdrew back out of range of the Preserver’s lightning bolts, and it allowed them to retreat. It would indeed be interesting to see what the ‘Queen of Blades’ was attempting to pull this time around. Then, from within the flocks of Zerg emerged one single, particularly large creature, moving directly towards the manifestation. The Preserver could already feel its occupant, and knew what was coming again. The old man’s lips parted in a toothy smile. When we first met, I would have given Kerrigan some credit for intelligence. But also within the Overlord’s confines there was the other essence, the one that it could not feel nor probe. It would apparently soon see what the source of such an interesting phenomena would be.

The Overlord slowly maneuvered in, then stopped and hovered in midair a dozen yards away from the Preserver’s manifested image. Its bowels rumbled and moved, and from the bottom of the massive creature, brought down gently, were two more smaller creatures. Smaller…but far more vicious. One was Kerrigan, as it had known that it would be, her blades already primed and ready for combat yet again. The other was of a species that the Preserver could never recall seeing before. Its eyes blazed with hatred, and its claws and mandibles clicked in eager anticipation of battle. The oddly-shaped crest on its forehead distinguished it magnificently. For any mortal, this truly would have been a thing of reckoning.

For the Preserver, though, it was another thing entirely.

Both of the Zerg creatures touched down on the solid ‘ground’ that the Preserver had caused to come into being beneath them. It could have allowed them to go falling off into oblivion, tumbling forever into the endless void of its realm…but that would have eliminated the opportunity to show Kerrigan that her obsession was futile. Or was it? The Preserver could not keep itself from studying the conspicuous creature that she had with her. Still…regardless of the fact that it could not see into the beast’s soul, it still would not hold a chance against the Preserver in battle.

Of course, though, it was Kerrigan who spoke first. This time, however, the Preserver could sense a change in her voice. Where it had been filled with an almost desperate conviction the last time that they met, now there was nothing but cool confidence, direct not only towards the Preserver, but towards the creature that she now had at her side. What is this monstrosity?

"Your guardianship has ended, Preserver," the Queen of Blades said. "You…and this power that you defend so feverishly…will soon by in my possession once and for all."

There was a flash of light, and the old man’s grainy skin disappeared, then re-assembled itself into smooth, young flesh as the Preserver once again took the form of the uninfested Sarah Kerrigan. It watched as the Queen of the Zerg winced briefly but managed to control herself, before speaking. "You never were able to learn, were you?"

Kerrigan’s face flared with anger, but she did not brace herself to charge. Instead, she slowly turned towards the creature beside her, the hints of a smile creeping up upon the outskirts of her mouth. The strange beast snarled ferociously, brandishing its claws and teeth like the deadly weapons that they were, all of its inner hatred focused purely on the Preserver. "If you have anything further to say, do it now," the Queen of Blades snarled, the smile blossoming into an evil grin. "You won’t be getting another chance…ever again."

And then, it attacked.

No mortal would have been able to follow with its eye the speed at which the creature flung itself at the Preserver, blades flashing in a frenzied yet calculated assault, towards the manifested form of Sarah Kerrigan. The Preserver immediately turned its form into that of an ethereal being, so that the blades would pass through harmlessly, throwing the creature off-balance and putting it at the Preserver’s mercy. But as the infidel being drew near and slashed, the Preserver experienced something that it had never truly felt before.

Pain.

Despite the ethereal form that it had taken, the creature’s blades connected nonetheless, slicing into the Preserver’s very being. Its manifested image howled in disbelieving agony, and Sarah Kerrigan was knocked backwards, hitting the ‘ground’ behind her and crumpling into a fetal ball. Never before had it hurt like this, as though its entire essence was on fire. There was no reprieve, though, and the beast struck again, leaping higher into the air than the Preserver would have judged possible given its serpentine body structure, and bringing the claws down onto the crumpled form below it yet again. The Preserver screamed, both mentally and physically as the blow seared through it.

And above that scream came Kerrigan’s echoing laughter. "See how your omnipotence helps you now!" she shouted, then gave forth a powerful mental command which even the Preserver could sense. Cajie…destroy!

The hydralisk-ian creature—this ‘Cajie’—reared back again, determined to stab the image of Sarah Kerrigan through once again. But as her claws came down, the Preserver disappeared, and her claws met thin air. Then, with a blinding flash of light, the manifestation appeared upright in front of it, surrounded by slithering tendrils of radiant energy, a look of sheer anger and determination planted upon its face. Crossing her arms, the apparition of Sarah Kerrigan’s brow creased in concentration, allowing the energy beams to coagulate in front of her, forming into a single, brilliant light. Cajie stood, unmoving, as though waiting in defiance for the Preserver to take its best shot at her. And take that shot it would. The light streaked forth, forming a crackling beam of unstable energy…energy enough to dislocate a small planetoid from its orbit around a sun. The blast shot straight towards Cajie, who remained motionless, watching with fascination.

Then, mere inches from striking the young hydralisk’s sternum, the beam of light literally shattered, the energy breaking off in a dozen different directions, not a single one of them touching Cajie. Then, before the Preserver’s shocked eyes, the separated energy beams arced backwards, each one reversing its trajectory and heading directly back towards it. A split second later, the Preserver’s consciousness exploded with pain as its own energy lashed against it, arcing back to the source. The momentum again threw the visage of Sarah Kerrigan backwards, this time where she lay, body shuddering from the blow. What…is…happening…?

Before it could find any sort of answer again, Cajie was on top of it, her supernatural claws and teeth slashing savagely at the Preserver’s fallen form. Sarah Kerrigan let out a tortured scream, one that seemed to echo down and across the Planes of existence. Then, with every bit of energy that it could muster, the Preserver let out an intense psychic flash, emanating out in all directions simultaneously. The move caught Kerrigan’s savage pet off guard, knocking her off of the Preserver’s manifested body and sending her reeling backwards. Within a split-second, however, Cajie had her balance back and was charging again, this time with more unbridled rage than ever before. What sort of deviltry is this? That blast could have reduced any mortal’s mind to a paste! Only then…too late…did the Preserver realize what it was up against. The balance…

Then the claws were upon it again, without mercy, without hesitation, and without remorse. And all that the Preserver could do was watch in agony as its power wavered, then began to collapse, before this creature’s unrelenting might.

**********

Canadian soldiers, clad in their crisp khaki uniforms and bearing standard-issue automatic rifles flanked the entrance to the solitary dimensional Recall device still left operational on board the damaged CMS Canuck II, creating an aura of rigid discipline and security in the enclosed area. Hands snapped up to foreheads in sharp salutes from the Dominion soldiers as Emperor Fron I passed through the tight corridor. The place was packed so full of computerized equipment and electronics that there was scarcely room to breathe inside. All of the primary Recall devices had either been completely blown during the battle, or had suffered from the subsequent maneuvering stunts and power blowouts. The only one left in operation was one of the emergency devices tucked away in the bowels of the engineering deck.

Following closely behind the Canadian Emperor, and watched with the utmost suspicion by the soldiers who were present, were the Zerg Canadians.

"I still don’t really understand what you’re trying to do," Fron was saying as he hurriedly made his way through the tight, circuit-covered corridors, fast enough so that Ravil had to slither as fast as they could to try and keep up. "Are you sure that this…thing that you’re going to try to do isn’t going to blow a circuit on my Recall device? As you can see, we don’t have many of them left…"

"Fron, I don’t know what’s going to happen," Ravil fumed impatiently. "Can we just get to the portal and get on with all this yattering later?"

Fron shot him a dirty look to accompany the ones that they were getting from all of the soldiers, whom the Emperor had set up down in the engineering bay just to make sure that the Zerg didn’t abruptly go berserk. "I don’t think that you have any idea how much these Recall devices cost to make…"

"No more than one or two unimaginative LPD’s, I would imagine," came Turtle’s voice from behind Ravil. Cydric and Palin followed closely behind the zergling. Fron either did not hear this or did a remarkably good job of ignoring it. Then, as they turned the corner, there it was: the Protoss Dimensional Recall device. A large circular piece of steel grafted against the wall, with a number of glowing orbs of flickering light embedded into the metal surface. The small room was filled with all manner of controls and dimly-lit command consoles, and standing in front of the Recall structure was a small man clad in a white lab coat.

"Ravil, this is Scientist Bob, the Canuck II’s designer, and probably the only man in the country who knows exactly what the Recall device can do. I don’t know if you’ve met." Fron turned to the lab coat fellow next. "Bob, these are…uh…the Zerg Canadians. They’ve asked to make use of our Recall device for their own purposes."

Scientist Bob’s brow creased severely. "And we’re just going to let them?"

Fron let out an exasperated breath, and leaned closer to Bob, his voice dropping down to a whisper. "Bob, if used properly this thing can teleport them to the opposite end of the galaxy. That means that we can finally be rid of these damn things! It’s been over a year since we were last able to sell Canadian Dominion coffee mugs in Calgary, and I want these things out of my country. Give them your full cooperation. Understood?"

The scientist nodded sagely and then turned back to the Zerg. "Um…hello. I’d offer to shake your hands, but…" he stared down at their claws, "…that might not be such a grand idea for me, unless I happened to enjoy profuse bleeding."

"Let’s just get on with it," Ravil snarled. "We have a score to settle with the Queen Bitch of the Universe, and we don’t want to be late."

Bob gulped. "Okay. Sure. Fine. Where exactly do you want me to send you?"

"Nowhere," replied the hunter killer. "Just turn these Protoss thing on, and we’ll do the rest. Right, Palin?"

The dwarf nodded. "Aye, laddie. Ah shewd be able tah guide the portal once it be open."

"Wait a minute…you guide the portal?" asked Bob. "You aren’t certified to do that! This is a really fragile piece of machinery! We can’t just let you take the controls like that!"

"Ah aynt gonna touch yer damned controls! Is all in the magic, laddie!"

"Magic?" Fron gaped, swinging around to face Ravil accusingly. "You never said anything about magic! You know my policies on that…there’s to be no non-technological plot devices used in stories in which I’m the star! It’s in my contract!"

His protests faded, however, as he found himself staring at the business ends of a plethora of sharpened Zerg needle spines, tucked beneath Ravil’s upper carapace. Before the Emperor could even say a word, though, the soldiers had their rifles up, trained directly on the Zerg at point blank range. A few seconds’ worth of uncanny silence filled the room, with only the sound of Scientist Bob’s whimpering audible as he crouched behind a readout console.

"Fron, it’s going to get very messy here in a very few seconds," Ravil rasped. "I don’t want that to happen, and I don’t think that you do either. But let me tell you this…we have to use that portal. If we don’t, then all of this…your ship…your country…even this world, are going to be destroyed. The entire galaxy is hanging in the balance right now, Fron. I don’t know if you can feel it, but I can. Time is running out, and when it ends, everything that we know ends too. And we’re going to be the ones to set things right again."

Fron squinted. "Why you?"

"Because it’s our choice…and it’s our score to settle. We are going to see this through to the end, Fron. We…I…am going to make Kerrigan pay for what she’s done, not just to us, but to the entire galaxy. So if you’re going to shoot us, then do it now. Otherwise, let us through, and let us do something to stop this infested bitch."

There was a long pause in which the Emperor opened and closed his mouth several times, as if trying to find words. Finally, though, he let out a sigh and nodded to the guards. "At ease, men." Instantly, the soldiers brought down their weapons and fell back into their uneasy watchfulness. Then Fron gave a nod to Scientist Bob, who slowly crept out from behind his cover and began to peck at the control’s keyboard. "Ravil, if we let you do this, then I don’t want to see your face on this planet again, understand me? You’ve always been more of a liability than an ally to us, and this is twice this week that we’ve had to bail you out of trouble. So if you go through that portal, I don’t want you coming back. Understand me?"

The hunter killer nodded gravely, clicking his mandibles. "It’s a deal. This place was too cold, anyway."

"Done, then." Fron slowly walked over to the control panel where Bob was working. "How soon will it be ready?"

Scientist Bob entered one final keystroke, then looked up with satisfaction as the machinery around him began to hum and come to life. "At your command, Emperor."

"Very well. Activate the portal, Bob."

Another few keystrokes followed. Then, with the light of an exploding star, the fabric of space tore itself open into a twirling, cascading whirlpool of light and energy focused inside the steel framework. The shifting multitude of colours and energies seemed to spin off into eternity as they gazed into the portal’s depths.

"Déjà vu…" muttered Turtle.

"All right, dwarf!" shouted Bob. "She’s all yours!"

Obediently, the infested dwarf stepped forward and immediately began to utter a strange chant, folding his hands in front of him and closing his small eyes tightly. As he did, tendrils of mist-like magical energy seemed to creep out from his physical body, reaching out as though attempting to grasp the spiraling dimensional portal. As they did, the portal seemed to struggle, the cascading energies twirling about inside the portal like a horse fighting to buck its rider. After a few seconds, though, Palin’s magic seized control, and the portal returned to its ‘normal’ state. Now, however, there was a very bright light marking the end of this tunnel; one that was very far away, and yet seemed so close that one could almost touch it…

"Ah think that’s it, but ye’d best haul haggus an’ git goin’!" came Palin’s strained voice. Long, oozing trails of sweat now streaked the dwarf’s face, which was ridden with exhaustion and work. "Ah don’t know how long I kin hold it steady like this for!"

Ravil slithered forward on the metal plate decks, throwing a glance back to Turtle on his right, and Cydric on his left, both of whom gave him confirming nods of determination. Then, with a look back towards Fron and a hungry smile, he lunged forward into the Recall portal, followed suit by his two Zerg henchmen. There was an immense pulling sensation, sending them streaking through a tunnel of infinite colours and twirling energies…

Then, nothingness.

**********

The battle raged unabashed across the boundless plane of the Convergence. The backlash of psychic and material energy produced by the Preserver and Cajie as they fought could have rocked the axis of a large planet had they been dueling on a corporeal plane of existence. Many times had the Preserver fought tremendous battles to uphold its sworn task and defend the power absolute which it guarded. Never before, however, had it been confronted with a battle that it could not…was destined not…to win. The Preserver’s fight was now entirely defensive, trying to figure out how best to evade the frenzied, merciless attacks of this mortal creature who could do it harm. No matter how futile the battle or the war, no matter how powerful this enemy was, though, it refused to yield. This Cajie would have to tear every shred of energy from it in order to truly win.

Unfortunately, she seemed to be doing just that; and not only was she doing it, but the Preserver was unable to produce any sort of workable defense against this savage creature. None…

The claws stabbed through its manifested image again, causing another bout of searing pain. Surmounting what energy it could, the Preserver clasped its ‘hands’ and released a psychic blast at point-blank. Cajie shuddered slightly but shrugged the attack off, continuing to press hard against the Preserver. As the savage combination of claws, teeth, and razor-pointed tail bombarded it again, it knew that in only a few more moments, it would all be over.

Apparently it was not the only one who sensed this. "I warned you that the universe would rue the day that you heard my name, Preserver!" came Kerrigan’s triumphant voice, barely heard by the weakened entity to whom it was addressed. "Today is that day! My ascension…is now at hand!"

One last blow descended. A second later, the Preserver’s limp manifested body struck the ground, unmoving, uncaring, sapped of all possible strength. The monstrous daughter of Ravil towered over the broken form, hissing in satisfaction, even as the light which had once filled the illusory form of Sarah Kerrigan literally shattered, spreading itself into a hundred independent specks of light and scattering to the cosmic winds.

Kerrigan slowly stepped over to where her mindless servant stood, watching as the flashes of light which had once composed the Preserver continued to twirl all around them. Anticipation flooded through her like a fever as she felt the barriers composed by the Preserver begin to fall, collapsing without their overseer to keep them in place. And as those mystical fields collapsed, Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades, felt it…

The Power Absolute. Burning and twirling all around her, caressing her every limb, her every molecule, her entire being…flashing before her eyes with visions of a hundred thousand worlds all at once…

…Torrid wastelands…

…Meadows blossoming…

…Green hills teeming with life…

…Huge cities, towering above the ground upon which they were built…

…An infinite number of faces…

…An infinite number of souls…

And it was all hers!

"YES!" she bellowed, her voice hollow and meaningless over the flood of planar energies which enraptured her. Kerrigan thrust her hands high into the air, touching the stars themselves as the streams of torrential power engulfed her. All at once, in sudden, huge bursts…overwhelming her…overtaking her…

Reality crumbled around her, being replaced with the cascading realms of pure chaos. Worlds flashed before her very eyes, full of meaning and yet irrelevant, faster and faster until it all blurred together, and for a brief moment she could see the entire tapestry of the universe put together.

Let me ram it through you, pushing, pulling, forcing, begging, throughout your entire being, chaos reigning and raining down upon you. Forwards, backwards, sideways, always…

In the unknown, unspoken realm formerly of the Preserver, time bent and warped. The rest of the universe went about its business, unconcerned, unhampered…but in that little piece of it…

It was not that time lost all meaning. Rather, it was that the meaning of time became redefined.

The only one left to observe it was Cajie, the daughter of some unimportant mortal creature on an unimportant mortal world. Watching on in careful awe as reality seared and tore itself apart, watching as chaos marched into the plane like an elemental force, which it now was. She was only dimly aware that years of her own time were passing by.

For Kerrigan, though, it all happened in the course of a single second. A second in which both everything and nothing were revealed to her. In which she fought and conquered the energies that she had sought for so long. And now, in another second, her vengeance would be extracted upon all those pitiful, ignorant nothings who had thought that she wouldn’t be able to do it. She had done it. Every piece of every puzzle, every heavy drop of human sweat, every battle of every war that she had ever fought…all had been culminating to this moment. The game was now over. She had won.

And it was time to play a new game.

Kerrigan was blown out of the chaos which had engulfed her, hitting the nothingness of the plane which surrounded her beside Cajie. Slowly, she raised her head, then her arms, then the rest of her, reaching up into the tangible Power, touching it, caressing it. They hydralisk looked on in wonder as the infested Terran—no, she was so much more than that now—began to glow with the same arcane energy that had been possessed by the Preserver. Only no more was it a cyan glow. Now, it was as black as the blood that had once coursed through her veins.

Clasping her hands together, Kerrigan’s eyes began to burn…literally…with true flames flickering out from her eye sockets. She giggled with excitement and anticipation. It was not a pleasant sound.

Her long-ranged plans were so masterful, so sweeping, that she felt a little bit intimidated by them. That was why she had decided to start small. The universe, no, the multiverse, was now hers to craft in her own serene image. That was why she had decided to start small. And that start would come in the form of the purging of all of those whom she had once considered to be enemies. No longer were they enemies, though.

"No," she breathed, though it was now somewhat gratuitous. "Now they are nothing more than an afterthought." Kerrigan reached out her hand into the chaos, wallowing in it for a fleeting moment. "This is not just the beginning of the end. This is also the beginning of a new beginning…mine!"

She snapped her fist closed, tightly clenching it, and pouring from her hand, in an infinite number of directions at once, came the seeds of pure chaos and destruction. The immolation…had begun.

**********

The blackened, dead Khaydarin crystal slipped from its owner’s hands, crashing to the ground and shattering into a hundred blackened, dead pieces. The elderly Protoss High Templar known as Enuma staggered forward, not hitting the ground only by the efforts of his young aide, who rushed forward to catch him. Outside the directorate Nexus, the Protoss settlement of New Antioch was just experiencing another sunset, as Shakuras’ sun slowly sank beneath the blue horizon.

Only a few could suspect that it was the last glimmer of sunlight that New Antioch would ever see.

"Master!" Elish exclaimed as he helped the old Protoss reassert his grip upon the nearby railing. "Master, are you injured?"

The look on the High Templar’s face reported more than mere physical injury. "Coming…coming…damnations young one, do not touch me!"

The younger Protoss immediately released his elder, who slumped back down to the floor, holding his head as if in immense pain. Although Elish was by no stretch of the imagination a powerful psychic, even he could feel the tortured ripples of psionic energy emanating from his elder’s mind.

"She is coming…" Enuma snarled out the word as though it were a hideous obscenity. "She has returned…" The scribe’s eyes turned back up to those of his student. "She is to be the doom of us all."

Then, without warning, the ground began to shake.

Elish flung himself to the window, staring down upon the beautiful Protoss meshing of technology and psychic energy which composed their buildings. Not far away, a massive Carrier was anchored, hovering serenely above the surface of Shakuras, the new center of Protoss civilization. But gazing out…he could now see that something was not right…

The various intrinsic artifacts scattered around the room began to topple off of their shelves, smashing on the floor as easily as had the precious Khaydarin Crystal. Elish paid it no heed, however, his eyes remaining firmly planted upon the horror outside of the directorate Nexus. Seemingly out of nowhere came immense fault lines, cracking apart the Protoss buildings at their very seams. Citizens poured out into the streets to see what was happening, just in time to find lava pouring up out of the crevasses, and in some places shooting high into the air, hundreds of feet. Fire seemed to sweep over New Antioch in a giant surge, and before the young Protoss’ terrified eyes the planet began to literally tear itself apart.

"Elder, we must leave!" he called out in panic, tugging at his superior in vain. "This place is doomed!"

"Doomed…" Enuma repeated, rocking back and forth slowly, as though mesmerized by some unseen, unfelt power. "We are all doomed…every species of every planet…all of us. Our great Dae’Uhl has failed us."

Shooting a look back out the window, Elish was just in time to see a great pillar of explosive fire reach up from the ground and begin to burn away the supports which held aloft the great Carrier vessel. It’s hull ablaze, the mighty warship hung tediously in midair for a few seconds before it began to plunge down to the immolated surface below. Where it struck, there emerged another towering explosion, this one showering the city with flaming debris and shrapnel. The Nexus shook from within as its own structure began to collapse from the force of the blasts. Looking around in panic even as the floor plating gave way beneath him, Elish realized that his Elder had—one last, final time—been right.

They were all doomed.

**********

It wasn’t the first time that CWAL Headquarters had shaken violently.

"Um…and you guys are sure that this place isn’t built on top of a fault line?" asked El Cazador nervously, glancing around the Newbie living quarters, located in the lowest, darkest depths of the Starbucks café. The ground had begun to shake a minute ago, and by now the tremors were strong enough to have dislodged most of the decorations which were covering the holes in the wall, as well as many of the light bulbs from above. The ground around the newcomer Panamanian art student was now littered with broken glass and picture frames. And with every passing second the tremors seemed to redouble their ferocity.

"Dude, relax!" chastised Z from over on the couch upon which he and most of the other newbies sat, glued to some unimportant television show. "This happens all the time. MAGGOTT’s probably just test-firing some new apocalyptic weapon out back."

"I noticed Lothos taking a lot of beans at supper tonight," added Shade. "Could be that…"

"Well, if you guys say so…" the young artist replied, eyes drifting towards the stairwell which led up to the rest of the Starbucks. "I think I’m going to go check it out anyway."

"Suit yourself."

"Actually, if it is Lothos, you’d probably be better off staying down here," said Orcfodder as El Cazador made his way up the stairs, fighting the vibrating floorboards for balance. "The door is reinforced titanium, so the fumes won’t be able to…ARRRRGGGGHHHH—!"

El Cazador whipped around in shock, just in time to see the floor beneath the other newbies literally explode, belching a cascade of fire and heat. The artist’s mouth fell open and words tried to tumble out as the bodies of his friends and comrades disappeared into the fireball which was swelling out of the ground. A second later his reflexes took over where his shocked mind failed, and he hurled himself up the stairwell just as a barrage of fiery debris shot past his face. The heat and shrapnel right behind him, El Cazador scrambled up the stairs, throwing himself against the heavy bolted door. Noise like a thousand rolling thunderstorms drowned out his shouting voice as he pounded upon the door, screaming in vain for someone to help him as the explosive debris and fire seared up the staircase in pursuit. The newbie squeezed his eyes shut as the flames threatened to engulf him…

Then the door flung open, and before El Cazador realized it, he was upstairs on the main floor of CWAL Headquarters, the door to the destroyed Newbie Dungeon slamming closed again behind him.

The heat subsided, and suddenly all that the young artist could hear was the creaking strain of the door against the explosive pressure behind it, and his own laboured breathing.

Looking down at himself, he could see his clothes burnt, and could now feel the waves of pain rippling through him from where the heat had scorched his tender skin. But his mind was still too numbed with shock to fully acknowledge the pain. Slowly El Cazador rolled over onto his back. Towering above the newbie was a quiet, solemn figure, one who utterly lacked the obnoxious confidence that El Cazador had accredited to him when they first met.

"This is it," growled MAGGOTT as he stared out one of the panoramic forward windows. "This is the end."

"W-what’s going on? What’s happening?"

Absent-mindedly, MAGGOTT reached down to the floor and pulled El Cazador up by his collar, bringing him up to his feet and shaking him in the direction of the shattered window. "You see that, young’un?"

What the young newbie saw shook him harder than MAGGOTT ever could have.

The sunny California sky was now completely clouded over, with great billowing clouds of sooty ash clogging the air. The ground up and down the street was torn apart, and immense searing explosions of magma streamed upwards, many of them hundreds of feet up into the sky. Across the street, Blizzard Headquarters was now nothing more than a blown-out ruin, its foundations shattered like toy blocks, and its static defenses brushed aside as though they had not existed. Bodies were strewn carelessly upon the street…

…So many bodies…

"We’ve…we’ve got to get out of here!" El Cazador gasped, eyes swelling as he gazed upon the empty shells of those whom he had known.

"No point," MAGGOTT replied, shaking his head and allowing the newbie to drop to his knees. "No point. Nowhere is safe now. She’s everywhere." He looked down at his hand angrily. "Why didn’t I kill that bitch when I had the chance? I never knew that she was going to be able to do something like this…"

Swinging his head about in horror, El Cazador saw that the ground was beginning to falter again, their tremors focusing themselves directly beneath the two CWALers. Explosions rippled up and down the street like wildfire, their brightness threatening to overwhelm. From elsewhere in the Starbucks there came howling screams of agony…

"Isn’t there anything that we can do?" shouted El Cazador in fevered desperation as the ground began to split beneath him, belching up violent flames.

"Sure," MAGGOTT said with a resigned calmness. "We can die."

Then the ground beneath them exploded.

**********

"What the hell is going on here?" demanded Emperor Fron as he rushed back to his command chair on the bridge of the CMS Canuck II. Beneath his feet the floorboards and deck panels were shaking mightily, causing an unholy commotion all throughout the inner hallways and corridors of the great vessel. "Haven’t we had enough insanity for one day? What’s going on now? Alien attack? Earthquake?"

"This can’t be right…" Lieutenant 11001001 seethed, pounding his fists on the console in frustration. "Sir, there are no hostile ships on screen, and according to our instruments it’s no earthquake. The computer is saying that the planetary core has just become incalculably unstable in the space of about ten seconds!"

"What?"

The Lieutenant shot a pained look back at his superior. "This planet is going to explode, sir!"

All of the color drained out of Fron’s features, not for the first time that day. "You’re sure?"

The ship shuddered violently once again, and the tremors worsened even as the Lieutenant worked feverishly to confirm the data. But as he did, the computer spat out the same results yet again. "Sir yes sir! The core is tearing this planet apart!"

On the viewscreen at the front of the bridge, all eyes were glued to the sight: momentous volcanic eruptions tearing apart the landscape all around them, embalming the positioned troops of the Canadian Dominion with layers of deadly ash and fiery lava. The ground was cracking open in a dozen different places, splitting the Canadian prairies wide open and allowing even more lava to pour forth. Hot ash rained down onto the scarred duranium hull of the Canuck II.

"We’ve got to get out of here…" the Emperor breathed. "Lieutenant, how many soldiers are left out there?"

"Hundreds, sir! Plus Doctor Turner’s medical team just re-deployed!"

Fron swallowed hard. "Fron to Recall control…"

"SIR!" the Lieutenant shouted. "We’ve got to go now! This planet is burning up!"

The Emperor looked about in panic, at the distressed and numbed looks of all of the crew members on the bridge. Only one thought came to his mind, though. Ravil…he knew this was coming… "Lieutenant, get us the hell out of here! Signal the Vimy Ridge to take off as well!"

"Vimy Ridge has already been destroyed, sir," the Lieutenant said, resuming the professional calmness which accompanied his duties. Despite the situation, his fingers were still flying over the control console almost faster than the eye could see. "Engine power has been engaged…we have cold engine burn…taking off now!"

Fron braced himself back in his chair, teeth gritted, as the Canuck II rose up off of the doomed Canadian prairies and engaged its primary drive. The engines shrieked in protest of the cold start, but obliged nonetheless and fired themselves up, taking off at as high an incline as was possible into the smoldering sky. Below them spewed an angry torrent of lava, scorching the ship’s exterior as it darted off en route to escape the planet’s atmosphere.

"Shields!"

"Still off-line after the battle, sir!" replied the Lieutenant, even as the ship’s rear view of the planet below began to shrink, showing the huge explosions and devastation which now wracked the surface. "Hull temperature is rising…rising…sir, we’re now at dangerous levels!"

"All power to engines!" the Emperor shouted, his face silhouetted by the flashing red alert lights. "Sacrifice everything you’ve got to, Lieutenant, but keep us moving!" His eyes shot back to the viewscreen, filling with even more horror. "Good Lord…"

Earth was indeed cracking itself apart from within, the fiery explosions now sending not just tons, but miles of solid rock tearing past them at speeds much faster than the Canuck II’s impulse engines were capable of. Huge fragments of the planet were being blown away into space, and as they continued to vector away, they could see their former homeworld literally splitting apart.

Then came the final blast.

With a blinding flash of light, Earth’s magma core seemed to detonate, blasting the planetoid apart like an egg caught by a fragmentation grenade. Slices of rock thousands of kilometers long and wide were sent spiraling off into deep space in every direction…including directly towards the damaged Canuck II.

"Sir, we’ve got pieces of Nevada coming right at us!"

"Evasive maneu…"

He never got the word out. A small piece of rock only a few miles wide tore out of the midst, clipping the Canuck II with enough force to send it tumbling on all axes and spewing engine coolant into the fiery void around them.

Lieutenant 11001001 fought hard to regain control, but wasn’t able to. The billions of tons of rock thrown into space by the final, fatal blast finally caught up with them. Tiny pieces of rock and micro-meteors propelled by the unimaginable explosion tore through the Canadian vessel’s hull like hot blades through human flesh, punching massive holes right through the mighty starship. Fron was thrown out of his command seat and smashed against the back wall with enough force to stun the Canadian Emperor. All around him came the sounds of twisting metal and exploding bulkheads…the death knell of the Canuck II…and himself.

"ALL HANDS, ABANDON SHIP!" he cried out to nobody as a dull pain began to throb in his right arm…when he looked over, he saw that his arm beneath his elbow was no longer attached. "Abandon…abandon…"

Then his eyes caught the cracked and damaged viewer, which was sparking but still operational. And on it, approaching the Canuck II dead-on at an impossible, unstoppable speed, was a massive piece of rock from somewhere in North America. A scream tried to form in his throat, but nothing came out but blood.

Then fire.

The huge piece of shrapnel crashed into the Canuck II, annihilating the Dominion’s flagship with one swift stroke and not even allowing its ashes to scatter to the stars.

**********

**********

First there had been nothing.

Then…there was Ravil.

The hydralisk floated through the soul of the universe, taking in his surroundings with a dull disinterest. Around him sped an indescribable collage of blinding lights and energies the likes of which he had never before experienced without the use of narcotic substances. In the distance, he could see the secrets of the planes unfolding around him, unveiling their whispered secrets for him alone to bear witness to.

Unfortunately, he didn’t care.

Not far away, he witnessed the birth of a new galaxy from a seemingly random gathering of subatomic particles…beyond that, the entropy of an entire reality. From somewhere else, he could hear the crying of a newborn child. All around him, the energy manifested itself in great broiling clouds of warped physics. Gazing on as he did, Ravil could almost see distinct shapes emerging from the chaos that surrounded him.

That one looks like a sheep, he thought to himself absently.

No, none of this held any meaning or importance to Ravil. There was but one thing that burned inside of his mind: a deep and long-running hatred that now seemed to overshadow everything else. Kerrigan. He had to find her. The hydralisk didn’t know what had gone wrong; surely the Recall process didn’t take this long. He felt as though he had been floating through this twisting nether for millennia. But regardless of where the Canuck II’s damnable Protoss device had dispersed him to, he knew that he would find the Queen of Blades eventually.

He had to.

"Raaavvvviiilllll…"

The voice, almost inaudible, seemed to flow like smooth cream from all around him. The hunter killer tried to swing himself around to look for the source of the voice, but found himself instead looking into an infinite number of directions, none of which were the same, none of which made coherent sense.

"Raavviill…"

"Who…?" he tried to shout out, his voice becoming lost and distorted even before he could think about saying it.

"Ravil!"

Slowly at first, but then building up speed, the world—or trans-planar space, as it actually was—began to twirl around him, sickeningly fast. Even when the Zerg squeezed his eyelids shut, he could still see with perfect clarity the universe spinning past. It made him want to puke, even though he hadn’t eaten anything since…since…

"Phlegm of the Overmind, when was the last time that I ate someone?" he asked himself, suddenly overturning his predominant thoughts of vengeance with those of hunger. "Drat. I should have picked up something to go before I took a dive through that portal. I’ll bet anything that there was a KFC not too far away from the battlefield, too." That also brought back some memories. "Or maybe not. Sassy was always nagging me to watch my cholesterol."

"Your cholesterol is now the least of your worries, Ravil."

"Huh? Who’s there?" the hydralisk demanded as the multiverse continued to pan past him. Faster and faster it went, twirling around the dazzled Zerg faster than anything he could have imagined. Then, as he watched helplessly, the multitude began to spin with such speed that all of the colours began to fade and blur, becoming nothing more than a single white streak all around him…

Then it altogether stopped, and the hydralisk found himself standing on what felt like solid ground, only was not. He now stood in a great white void, which stretched out endlessly in every direction, unobstructed by any object. Light filled the area, though it came from no one specific source. There was nothing except white, stretching out forever, as far as the eye could see. Nothing, that is, except for one pillar of darkness in front of him.

"Tell me," Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades crooned as she unfolded her razor-like wings from behind her. "Exactly what did you think could be gained by finding your way here?"

The hunter killer snarled, suddenly all premonitions of food vanishing, replaced by the hate that had driven him earlier. "Easy. I’m going to kill you!"

He lunged forward, claws and teeth snapping, not particularly wanting to banter about it. Kerrigan, however, seemed to have other ideas. Just as Ravil reached the spot where she was standing, the foul infested Terran materialized into thin air, allowing the hydralisk to stumble forth off-balance, hitting the ground in a graceless tumble. He scampered back upright, to find that Kerrigan was now standing behind him.

"I don’t think it’s as easy to do as you might think," a chillingly cold smile appeared on her face. "Not now that I’ve shed the weak, fallible flesh that gave birth to this omnipotent consciousness of mine." She took in a jubilant breath. "You have no idea how good this feels, Ravil…all the power in the universe…all mine to do with as I please."

"You like talking, don’t you?" Ravil growled, charging once more. Again, however, the Queen of Blades disappeared from sight and became corporeal again behind him.

"Poor little Ravil. You really should have stayed on Earth where you belong. That way you could have enjoyed a quick death, just like everybody else on that wretched planet already did." Her blades beckoned temptingly. "As it is, you have no idea the amount of suffering that you have created for yourself by coming before me to challenge my being."

He clicked his mandibles impatiently. "Then why don’t you stop with the little magical tricks and fight me already? We’ve got a score to settle, you mangy little human, and I’m going to take a lot of pleasure in gulping you down, even if it does raise my cholesterol!"

Rather than grow angry, Kerrigan let out an uproarious burst of laughter. "Futile, futile! No Ravil, I don’t believe that I’m going to fight you at all. I already bested you once: no need to do so again. I have something…special in store for you and your petty existence. For now, though, perhaps we should allow your two little friends to join the party. What do you say?" Before he could say a word, she snapped her fingers, and a second later two brilliant flashes of light appeared to either side of the hunter killer. There stood Cydric and Palin, looking as dazed and confused as Ravil had.

Two little friends? Ravil thought inwardly. Turtle came through that portal as well…I saw him follow us in. What has she done with him? Something inside of him told him to keep his mouth shut on that subject, though, and for once his brain obeyed. Although Kerrigan could easily have plucked his thoughts from his head, for now she was too enraptured with her own extravagance to bother with such things.

"Sire?" Cydric asked, spotting his sovereign. "Sire, where…?"

"Welcome!" Kerrigan shouted superfluously. "Welcome, insignificant creatures, to the throne of my new domain! From here on in, this site is to be the center of all existence on all the planes of reality! It stands as a token that there are none who can possibly oppose me." She threw a significant glance at the three Zerg Canadians. "Your little trio here, Ravil, is but an unfunny joke."

"So this is the center of all creation now, eh?" asked Palin, looking around in curiosity at the never-ending void. "Kinda drab. Find yourself some new decorators, woman!"

Kerrigan ran a disinterested finger along the sharp end of one of her blades. "Your ‘wit’ fails to impress me, dwarf. Find yourself some new rhetoric."

"Oh, so it’s rhetoric you want, is it?" cried out Cydric excitedly. "Boy do we ever have rhetoric to show you! Kerrigan, self-proclaimed Queen of Blades, we’re here to end this madness that you have begun! We’re going to crush you and your end your demented rule over the stars once and for all! We’re going to smite you! We’re going to…uh…mutilate you, and…uh…damn…" The Defiler fidgeted for a few seconds before drawing a set of cue cards out of his carapace. "…AND…we’re going to murder you and char-broil your remains, then feed you to a flock of your own zerglings! Your reign has ended, Kerrigan, so if you want to die a quick death, I suggest that you…you…" He looked around, inanely flipping through the small stack of cards. "Er, sire, I think I lost the last one."

Ravil covered his face with his claws. "Why me…?"

This brought yet another sneer to the Queen of Blades’ lips. "Why you, Ravil? I’ll show you exactly why." With a swift, fluid motion, her blades sprang out to their full extended lengths. "You think that you can defy me, or even defeat me, do you? Then try, you insignificant specks of carbon and water. Try!"

Cydric and Palin both gritted their teeth, and with a single glance between the two of them, charged at Kerrigan before Ravil could utter a word. Not bothering to send out his swarms of insect friends who clung to his body—and most of whom hadn’t returned after the battle with Kerrigan the first time—Cydric lunged, his jaws ready to sink in and take off Kerrigan’s head. Palin, opposite his Defiler comrade, crossed his hands in a strange fashion and began to utter a strange sequence of words. An instant later, an enormous Fireball formed in his hands, which he flung directly at the infested Terran who continued to stand defiantly before them. Cydric, not wishing to be vaporized, broke off his attack and dodged out of the way, but Kerrigan did not so much as blink as she watched the oncoming spell with curiosity.

As it approached her, though, the Fireball began to noticeably lose its strength and ferocity. By the time that it was about an inch from the Queen of Blades’ face, the powerful spell had completely dissolved, and the dark woman remained uninjured.

Then she laughed. "You cannot hurt me, peon. Not in a domain that is comprised of my very soul." She stared at the dwarf. "You fancied yourself the best of both worlds, didn’t you? A strong dwarven body supplemented by a Zerg infestation. Allow me to show you how much that truly means." Then she raised her hand and snapped her fingers with a noise that sounded like thunder. Even as she did, Palin collapsed to his knees, gasping and wheezing. Looking over in shock, Ravil saw that a solid, transparent crystalline cube had formed around his head…cutting off the dwarf’s supply of oxygen. The Queen of Blades had obviously caused oxygen to come into being in this place, but now she had suddenly and cruelly taken it away from him.

As Palin collapsed to the ground, pounding furiously at the cube now encompassing his head in a vain effort to shatter it, Cydric took his chance and lunged again at the Queen of Blades. She had been busy watching as Ravil rushed over to try and aid his fallen minion, and didn’t see the attack coming. Leaping up from the ground, the Defiler’s powerful jaws closed around Kerrigan’s neck, and he bit down with all of his might…

…Only to abruptly find that all of his teeth had fallen out.

"Yes, the traitor," Kerrigan rasped as the Defiler’s gums harmlessly tested the hardened flesh of her neck. "I hope all this has brought you great happiness, Defiler, because every single part of it is your own doing. It is truly a pity for you that I am not at all the grateful sort." She lashed out, not with her claws, but with one of her hands, which was glowing with pent-up energy. The blow caught Cydric in the gut, and was enough to knock him away. As he shook himself off and picked himself up from the ground, however, Cydric found that on the spot on which she had touched him, his flesh was beginning to dissolve. And it was spreading.

"EYAARRRGGHHH!" he shouted, rolling about on the ground as the magical energies began to consume his innards. "MAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOP!"

Ravil brought his claws down hard onto the translucent crystal that was surrounding Palin’s head, but the magical construct refused to yield itself. Slowly, the dwarf’s struggling to break the crystal grew weaker and weaker, until finally the lack of oxygen inside the hardened cube caused him to yield. His fists unclenched, and, lungs still gasping in vain for air, his body gave one last cursing shudder. Then, the infested dwarf lay still. The hunter killer looked down at the body of his fallen minion, then stared over in a combination of awe and disgust at Kerrigan, who gave him a small, pleasure-filled grin in reply. She was enjoying this.

"He’s dead!" the hydralisk said in disbelief. "You killed Palin! You bitch!"

It was only then that he noticed his Defiler Chancellor, thrashing about on the ground in agony nearby, over half of his flesh now consumed by the dark spell. "SIRE! HELLLLP!"

"Save your strength," Kerrigan advised, waving a dismissive hand towards the tortured Cydric. "You’re going to need it, Ravil. These little annoyances proved to be nothing before me. But you, on the other hand, shall prove to be greater than them…a greater amusement to me, that is."

Nonetheless, the hydralisk quickly slithered over to where Cydric was rolling on the ground, watching in horror as the darkness ate him alive. By now his arms and tentacles had been dissolved, leaving him even more helpless than before. As the burning magics reached up to his head, he looked up at his Zerg sovereign in despair. "Sire…d-don’t let it end…like…like…"

Then he was gone, and all that was left in the wake of the Chancellor of the Zerg Canadians was a slightly moist skeleton and a small pile of cue cards.

Tenuously, the hydralisk rose again, his teeth bared, and the hate flowing through him thicker than blood. "I’ll make sure that you die for this, Kerrigan. Just like they have because of you."

"Your two friends were hardly entertaining at all, Ravil. It is now your destiny to provide a more substantial form of amusement for me."

Ravil shook his head. "No."

"I did not ask your consent," the Queen of Blades said coolly. "In fact, you have no say in it whatsoever. You want to fight me. You want to kill me. Very well." she chuckled at her own grandiose ingenuity. "If this is to be my grandest entertainment, there must be risk involved. Killing you like I did them would be a waste. Therefore…" Kerrigan snapped her fingers, and although there were no real visible effects at first, one could almost see her slump down slightly, as though the greater part of her had just been torn away. "I have suspended from my being the Power Absolute, that which you know as the Convergence. I cannot access it again…until you are dead."

The hunter killer brandished his claws openly now, eager for a fight. "Then let’s rock, Kerrigan!"

A slow, evil grin appeared on her face, tight enough to be mistaken for a knife cut. "Oh no, Ravil. I told you already that I need not beat you again. Instead, I will have you do battle with my greatest champion. If you win, then, and only then, shall you do battle with me." Her smile widened. "But you already know that you cannot win, because you already know who my champion is."

A cold shudder of dread speared down Ravil’s spine. "No…"

"Oh yes…" Kerrigan laughed, then gave a nod to the void around her. An instant later, a brilliant light appeared directly between the two Zerg, twisting and weaving about, and eventually materializing itself into a darkly familiar shape. Then, with a feminine hiss and the scraping of claws, Kerrigan’s champion emerged in front of her. Ravil’s eyes went wide with both recognition and horror as she emerged.

Cajie.

"Yes, little hydralisk," the Queen of Blades sneered viciously. "For your only chance to save your humble little reality from my wrath, you will have to kill your own daughter."

Ravil gazed upon his little hatchling, his pride and joy, who had once been destined to be the future of the Zerg Canadians. Now, though, he could sense that her youthful spirit and Zerg-inherited zeal for blood had been corrupted and tainted by Kerrigan’s inhuman powers. Her form, as sleek and beautiful as ever, now bore the mark of the Queen of Blades. Ravil had never expected to see her again; now, strangely enough, he wished that he had not. For if she remained the same formidable fighter that he had trained her to be, there was no way that he could win.

Mental pictures of Sofie, Aura, Geek, Cydric, Turtle, and Palin all flashed through his mind. They had all died because of Kerrigan. And for them, he would have revenge, even if it meant fighting a battle that he could not win.

If nothing else, he knew that he had to try.

"Mark my words, Kerrigan, I will get you for this," Ravil hissed, slowly dropping into a battle-ready stance, even as he watched his own daughter across from him fall into hers, her fedora-like crest shadowing her face from his sight.

Kerrigan smiled curtly. "We shall see. Cajie…DESTROY HIM!"

She reacted faster than Ravil had ever remembered. In a heartbeat the young hydralisk was on him, claws slashing with the swift viciousness that they had been designed for. He stumbled backwards, trying to find some sort of defense, but she was too close and kept getting closer, tearing away at his carapace and his armour as best she could. Her best was far greater than anything that Ravil had ever seen inside the Swarm, though. Finally, he was knocked backwards, sprawling onto the ground. His mind was tearing him in a thousand directions, panicking and unsure of what to do. The shadow that appeared over him gave him a fairly good idea, and he managed to roll out of the way just as Cajie’s claws descended down onto the spot where his torso had been a moment before. Scrambling back upright, he lashed out blindly, missing his daughter by a few determined inches. Pressing the moment, he lowered his head and charged, hoping to smash Cajie in the chest with a savage head-butt. She was far too fast, however, and saw it coming just in time. Dodging out of the way, she used his own momentum against him. Her whip-like tail wrapped around his neck securely, and with a heave she flung him down to the ground once again, where he tumbled gracelessly several meters, groaning in pain. And above it all came the uproarious sound of Kerrigan’s maniacal laughter as she watched on.

Swing your head back, pull her off balance, charge her! Even as Ravil tried to put his hasty plan to work, though, his daughter seemed to anticipate it, tightening her tail grip on her father’s neck and thrashing him around with her mighty appendage. Crashing to the ground once more, Ravil finally lashed out in tortured frustration, managing, with his claw, to cleave off the part of Cajie’s tail which was wrapped around his neck before she could pull it away again. The younger hydralisk wailed in pain and blood splattered all over from her damaged tail, which was already beginning to heal itself.

It was then that Ravil caught the briefest flashes of psychic activity coming from Kerrigan, and aimed at Cajie, directing the young one to keep up the offensive at all costs. So, she is controlling Cajie, Ravil thought to himself darkly. Perhaps that was why she seemed so different to him, and fought with recognition or caring. It isn’t really Cajie in there…it’s Kerrigan! Seeing this blatant desecration of his own flesh and blood caused the hate to swell up and explode within him. Charging, he met his daughter half-way, and the two of them disappeared into a flurry of claws, teeth and armour.

Even spurred on by his anger, however, Ravil was still no match for his purified daughter. Wherever he brought his claws down, she had moved away from. Her speed was terrifying, as was the speed at which she dealt punishment back out towards him. Pain seared through every part of his body as her claws connected time and time again, but more pain came from the grotesque gurgles of hydralisk satisfaction that poured from her mouth as she fought. Deep in his heart, he knew that this was no longer his daughter.

At long last, he was flung to the ground again under the force of the ferocious blows, bleeding from dozens of different wounds, and with his strength flowing out of him even faster than was his blood. Cajie was savage, brutal, and unrelenting. She was also perfect, and could bend reality to her advantage. As his daughter hovered above him, hesitant upon command to deliver the death blow, Kerrigan’s voice called out from further across the void.

"The end is at hand, Ravil!" the Queen of Blades laughed. "I would tell you to make your peace with your gods, but there is only one god now. And you cannot make peace with her. Nobody can. Everything in creation is now mine for the taking…and take it I intend to!" She cast one last look down at the fallen hunter killer. "You are finished, hydralisk. May you die more nobly than you lived."

She then turned her back and began to walk away, even as Cajie slowly raised her claws above Ravil’s head, preparing to bring them down and finish off her father once and for all. As she did, though, Ravil shouted out something at the withdrawing Queen of Blades.

"SIRE!"

The cry came from behind him, accompanied by a flash of light just bright enough to draw his attention away from the inevitable death hovering above his head. Then came a streak of motion which caught even Cajie off guard. Something heavy stepped on Ravil’s face, obscuring his vision of the sudden new arrival. Sounds of slashing claws and angry biting were heard, followed by the distinctive squeal of Cajie in pain. When the weight came off of his face, Ravil blinked, somewhat dazed, and took a look around. Cajie had slunk backwards several meters, a nasty-looking gash splitting through her chest carapace, so no longer was he staring up into the dark eyes of his corrupted daughter. Instead, he was staring into the eyes of a zergling.

"T-Turtle?"

"Sorry I’m late, sir! I ran into some demon acquaintances of mine back there in the twisting nether." General Turtle took a deep puff of his cigar, and glanced over to where Kerrigan and Cajie now stood, still slightly thrown over the new arrival. "Got any nukes hidden in your panty hose this time, human?"

Kerrigan’s features darkened considerably. "If I had known that you would survive the first one, I would have launched a dozen. Instead, you get to die at your master’s side. Touching. Really."

"Sire, get up!" Turtle urged, poking Ravil in the gut several times. "We’ve got ourselves a fight to win!"

"Turtle, it’s finished…" Ravil groaned, wanting nothing more than to roll over and die, which he was on the verge of doing anyway. "We’ve lost…e-everything is lost…"

The zergling grit his teeth around the cigar. "No."

"W-what?"

"I said no! We aren’t giving up yet, sire! The Zerg Canadians have come this far, fought through this much already! We can’t just give up now! It isn’t over yet!" The zergling leaned closer to his fallen sovereign. "Think of Sofie, sir."

"Sofie…" Ravil whispered softly to himself, barely audible. "Sofie, I…I…"

"R-Ravil…?"

"I promise, Sofie. I promise."

The words came from his own mouth as he stared upwards, drawing on all of the last drops of strength and willpower left inside of his soul.

Then, with a great surge of strength, he rose up again, bloodied but not beaten, once again alongside his zergling friend and companion.

Kerrigan’s face turned from a smile to a snarl.

"You’re still no match for my champion," she hissed darkly. "Cajie…DES—"

The words never left her mouth. Ravil’s upper carapace flared open, and with a horrid screech a barrage of razor-sharp needle spines shot out. They didn’t head for Cajie as Kerrigan would have anticipated, though. They headed straight for her.

Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades, the omnipotent, the omniscient, the god, never saw it coming.

Six needle spines shot right at her at incredible speeds, and three drove themselves deeply into her skull. The force from the attack knocked the Queen of Blades right off of her feet and sent her crashing to the ground, screaming like a banshee at the unthinkable pain. Ravil blinked in slight surprise. She had severed herself from her newfound powers, if only temporarily, to give him some sick, twisted sort of ‘sporting’ chance. The needle spines would not be a fatal blow, not to somebody with even Kerrigan’s natural power.

But he could still feel the psychic backlash from a hit to the brain. The jolt was slight to him, but to Cajie, the creature with whom Kerrigan now essentially shared one mind…

The young hydralisk crumpled do the ground, clutching her head and screeching at a tone almost exactly the same as Kerrigan’s. She thrashed about for a handful of moments before regaining some sort of composure, then rose shakily, then collapsed again.

Their moment had come.

Not a word passed between them as the two Zerg Canadians charged at the teetering hydralisk, their claws at the ready. Turtle reached her first, being a zergling whose limbs were adapted to running rather than slithering, and barreled into Cajie, a plethora of sharp pointy appendages stabbing into her. They rolled about on the ground for a few moments, the battle being extremely one-sided, since without Kerrigan’s mental directives, the corrupted hydralisk was barely able to think for herself. Even as Ravil scurried up to them, Turtle was shouting out his triumphant war cries.

"See sire! She ain’t so tough!" the zergling crowed, slashing at Ravil’s tainted daughter with his claws. "I just KNEW that we should have flushed her down the toilet the moment we—ACK!"

Cajie’s claw suddenly came out of nowhere, and the blunt side caught Turtle across the face with remarkable force, sending the small zergling flying through the air a good five feet, and tumbling to a halt another five after that, where he lay groaning. Shooting a glare over at Kerrigan, Ravil could see that the Queen of Blades was attempting to pull the embedded needle spines out of her skull, resulting in even more blood being spilt. She was also frantically attempting to re-establish the psionic link between herself and Cajie. The young hydralisk was already beginning to stand up again, caught off-guard by the sudden disruption of the link with her dark mistress, now disoriented and struggling. Once the two of them melded minds again, it would all be over.

Ravil lunged, slashing at his daughter. Although the psychic link had been mostly severed, the younger hydralisk was still at least semi-aware of her surroundings, and blocked clumsily, her grip upon reality already starting to crumble and slip. She swung back savagely, but not with the blinding speed that she had employed earlier. Ravil dodged—just barely—and pressed the attack, his sickle-shaped claws tearing at his daughter’s carapace with all of the ferocity that the weary hydralisk could possibly muster. Her tail lashed out, again, too slowly, and Ravil managed to knock it out of the way effortlessly. Cajie recoiled slightly, then with an angry roar, lashed out with her teeth and claws. Her father barely managed to parry off the attack: the psychic link between Kerrigan and Cajie was continuing to build strength again. Using her momentum against her, Ravil caught his daughter across the face with a claw, then smashed into her with all of his weight, sending the younger of the two hydralisks careening down to the ground, helpless at his feet.

In that fraction of a second, the King of the Canuckalisks was suddenly faced with a choice. And either solution led to a sacrifice.

His daughter…or the universe.

As Cajie slowly began to straighten, he raised one of his sickle-like claws high into the air, mustering every last bit of strength into the final blow. This was it. The day that he had secretly dreaded ever since he had first seen his daughter emerge from her shell. It was the deed that he had feared might have to be done even while he had mapped out the glorious future of the Zerg Canadians.

"R-Ravil…?"

The psionic waves between Cajie and Kerrigan continued to grow stronger with every passing moment. Any second now, the link would be re-established, and Kerrigan’s control over Cajie would be solidified once more. Once that happened, Kerrigan could focus Cajie’s purity properly, and everything…everything…would be lost. He had to do it.

"D-don’t…don’t let it end this way, Ravil…"

He had to.

"Ravil…"

Had to.

"Cajie…" he murmured. "Cajie…NO!"

And then, scarcely before he even realized what he had done, he brought his arm-blade down with a power that he hadn’t thought himself capable of delivering. The blade swept down and found its mark, cutting his own daughter down. Blood splattered out through the void, disappearing where it should have touched the ground, and with a silence more deafening than anything else possible, Cajie slumped back down…this time never to rise again.

"NOOOOO!"

Kerrigan’s ethereal, pained scream seemed to echo and disperse across time and space as Cajie’s hollow shell hit the ground. Her voice hung in the air, filled to the brim with not only horror, but now painful denial…as well as fear. It was the fear of a woman who had gained everything, and now would be forced to face the consequences of her gains.

As Cajie’s body lay still on the ground, twitching its last, a dim light surrounded her. The eyes of Kerrigan, Ravil, and Turtle were all set upon the young hydralisk’s body, unable to look away as the glow compounded itself. Kerrigan’s horrified yell at the sight of her fallen champion—the cornerstone of her newfound power—abruptly died off. In its placed emerged a sudden light which flashed through the utter void, emanating from Cajie and spreading like a cancerous disease all around them. Instead of blood pouring from the hydralisk, a glimmering, gleaming fluid now came forth, possessing an inner luminance all its own. Then, the world seemed to explode around them. A hundred shimmers of near-blinding light rose up from within the hydralisk’s body, twirling and coalescing into a single pillar of fire. And from that fire, there emerged a single figure.

Then, in that moment, Kerrigan knew that she was toppled: the figure that emerged from the flames was the fluid, feminine form of Sarah Kerrigan. Without Cajie’s power to hold the Preserver in check any longer, the powerful omni-being could not be suppressed by her efforts alone.

"You never did learn, Kerrigan." The Preserver spoke, its voice deep and ominous, stretching out through the reality that the Queen of Blades had fabricated for herself. Somewhere off in the distance, the strangely terrestrial sound of rolling thunder could be heard, as though a torrential rainstorm was on its way, to wash away the darkness that had befouled the multiverse. "For all of your power and cunning, you have allowed it to be wrenched away from you by the work of your own foolish overconfidence and through the labours of these noble creatures here. You, Kerrigan, are nothing."

Confusion, hatred, and an unmistakable fear lapped out from the Queen of Blades like the tides raging against the shore. Cast over the edge by the sudden realization that she would never regain what she had once held, Kerrigan sank to her knees, shouting out curses in denial. "NO! IT’S MINE! IT’S ALL MINE! YOU CAN’T STOP ME! NOT ANY OF YOU!" Her head shot up, eyes filled to overflowing with malice. "I AM THE Q-QUEEN OF BLADES!"

Rising up, she flung herself forward, blades extended as far as they could, in one last vain attempt to slay those who stood defiantly before her. Turtle and Ravil barely had to do anything more than look on, however, as the Preserver stood its ground stalwartly, fearing Kerrigan as much as it would have a harmless lamb. When she was within but a few feet of being able to reach the Preserver, a slender beam of light shot out from its body, striking Kerrigan and literally freezing her into place, gaping in awe. Although she strained with the effort, she could not move. As it had once before, the Preserver stepped closer, examining the face of the woman who had almost defeated it carefully.

"It is finished, Sarah Kerrigan. You are finished."

"NO!" the Queen of Blades shouted as the ethereal glow throughout the void increased, threatening to blind her. "THIS CAN’T HAPPEN! I WON’T LET IT HAPPEN!"

She screamed in agonizing delirium, a creature not worthy to be the god that she had so fervently sought to be. Then, the Preserver disassembled its manifested form one last time, again turning into the strands of energy that was its true self. For a few seconds it hesitated, listening to the helpless cries of the self-proclaimed Queen of Blades…the all-powerful…the omnipotent…

Then with the fury of a thousand blades, the Preserver entered into her body, its energies burning and searing away at not just her flesh but her essence, burning and searing and burning and searing and hurting and pain and light and hate and this can’t happen I WON’T LET THIS HAPPEN I AM THE QUEEN OF BLADES I WILL NOT BE DENIED!

Chaos rained like blood, a violent storm whipping into a turbulent frenzy all around them, tearing through the nothingness. Kerrigan looked upwards as the chaos she had embraced so lovingly, as a part of herself, as it buckled and folded, the Power Absolute being pulled away from her grasp even further with each passing moment. Tears poured from her eyes, tears the same colour as the blood of all of those whom she had killed to achieve her goal…

Her fragile, insignificant mortal body writhed in unsurpassed agony as uncontrolled power was discharged across the boundless planes. From her throat emerged a primal scream, and a powerful jolt of psychic trauma poured forth from her mind, knocking away the pair of Zerg Canadian bystanders.

Then, she blew apart.

It was an explosion without noise, without sound, without substance, and without force, yet it was powerful enough to knock both Ravil and Turtle to the ground. They rolled across the ground, numb with shock, yet unable to think of anything except the triumphant, deadly spectacle around them.

Kerrigan’s empty, hollow roars combined with the force of the chaos howling above to be carried across the planes, throughout all of the realities, throughout all time. It’s not fair I was so close…

Then, all around them, reality literally shattered like a picture window under a heavy weight, and Ravil was sent careening downwards into darkness, and into unconsciousness.

**********

It could have been a moment later or it could have been a millennia later; for him, time had stopped having meaning. In fact, everything had stopped having meaning. Everything…except for the pain.

No price was too high for what had to be done…

The whispered voice seemed to come from behind him, and turning, Ravil found himself staring at the withered yet compelling form of an old man. Wobbling over on uncertain legs which looked as though they would give out under his weight at any moment, the old man came and shakily took a seat next to him on the cornerstone of forever.

The old man smiled again. "No Ravil, you wouldn’t, and you know it. Your destiny was to stop her the first time…and in doing so you sacrificed everything you had. Now your destiny is to seek out the Queen of Blades once again, and to this time extract your revenge." Slowly, the withered figure of the old man rose up and gazed at the hydralisk solemnly. "Kerrigan is a creature of annihilation, one who will not—and can not—stop until her reality lies in ruin around her. You, Ravil…are to stop her from completing her dark task, and to find yourself again in doing so." He paused for a moment as Ravil rose and stared him face-to-face. "That is your true destiny."

The hunter killer hydralisk knew in his heart, at that moment, that there was no decision to make. Kerrigan had taken everything from him…and he would make her pay, no matter how long it took. Sofie…Cajie…his entire life on Earth and the glorious future that he had believed to be awaiting him…all of that now faded into a distant memory. Ravil, the former King of the Canuckalisks, had but one task before him now.

"Sire…?"

**********

The scorched, charred landscape of the Canadian prairies was treated to new light pouring in from the east as a new day dawned across the embattled countryside. The search and rescue operations had gone on throughout the night, and the majority of the wounded soldiers from both sides who hadn’t been found the previous day had been brought in earlier in the morning. The medical teams and other personnel were exhausted and fatigued from the all-night struggle to save as many lives as they could, and many had now given in and nodded off. Fortunately, the breaking of the dawn brought new contingents of medical personnel to the scene to help continue to aid the crisis. It also brought more unexpected arrivals. At the hesitant approval of the Emperor, a small delegation of representatives from the United States had been allowed across the sealed border to help with the identification of the dead. And there was one casualty in particular that they were looking for.

"Aw hell…" the American Secretary of Defense muttered as he bent down over the blood-stained Canadian soil to examine the body, accompanied by two other senior staff members from the White House, the Secretary of State and the Secretary of Public Relations. "How in the nine hells are we going to explain this to the public?"

What this was happened to be a rather gruesome sight. The three officials were now standing around a particularly badly mutilated body, each one covering their faces with a handkerchief to both fend off the smell and hold back the bile. The body that was holding their attention so raptly was that which had belonged to the President of the United States. His torso was bloodied and torn as if with a hundred knives. His dismembered head, a perplexingly satisfied look settled on his face even this long after death, had been found twenty feet away. His mutilated genitals had been found thirty feet away…in the opposite direction.

"Skiing accident?" the Press Secretary asked hopefully.

"Possibly…" the Secretary of Defense replied, shaking his head in distress. "But who are we going to get to run the country until the elections roll around?"

The Secretary of State shrugged. "The Vice President, presumably."

He shot her a deadly glare. "I’m going to forget that you said that. We are not leaving our country in the hands of Al Gore, do I make myself clear?"

Silence fell as the three of them continued to ponder the situation. A few more ideas were tossed around, most of which were hastily dismissed.

"No, John Travolta charges too much…" the Press Secretary muttered to herself. "There’s got to be somebody that we can get to impersonate the President until we can elect a new one. If we let the people know what happened here, there’s going to be hysteria. Plus Al Gore. That speaks for itself."

"Yeah…but who?"

The abrupt flash of light which came out of nowhere to appear in front of them took the three Americans so off-guard that they all stumbled backwards down onto the ground. When they shook themselves off again and looked up, there was an incredibly strange creature staring back at them.

"Hello," General Turtle, formerly of the Zerg Canadians, army helmet on his head and cigar still lit up and puffing, greeted them gruffly. "Who are you?"

The three Americans exchanged glances. Then, slowly, the Secretary of Defense rose. "Um…hello. We’re…uh…just some tourists who are…er…looking for somebody to play a role for us. Think you might be able to help?"

The zergling’s brow wrinkled. "Play a role? Are you film producers or something?"

"Yes! Yes, of course we…OW!" he glared back down at the Secretary of State, who had delivered him a swift kick in the shins. "What?"

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed as quietly as possible. "Do you know what that thing is?"

"Of course I do! It’s a Zerg!" the Secretary of Defense whispered back while Turtle looked at them perplexingly. "Do you have any idea how adaptable these things are? We can teach it to do anything! Just trust me on this, okay?"

"No, I’m not going to put up with…"

The Secretary of Defense ignored her, turning about with a painfully wide smile on his face. "Yes, we’re film producers, and we want to know if you’ll help us out with a new project that we’re doing."

Turtle shrugged. "Sure. What is it?"

"Nothing much. Just say a few lines, only pretend that your nose is all stuffed up, okay?"

"Yew meen lahk dis?"

The Secretary of Defense whipped around gleefully. "He’s perfect! He’ll make a great President until election day! We just have to get him to say what we tell him to, and we’re covered!"

"What have you been smoking?" the Secretary of State whispered back as fiercely as possible. "He isn’t even a biped!"

"Hey…trust me. A little voice training…a little makeup…" He looked at the other two sincerely. "People…we can make this work."

Two hours later, the small truck carrying the three U.S. officials and one zergling (the family dog, of course) puffing contentedly on a brand new Havana cigar from the President’s personal stock crossed the border back into the United States, and headed directly for Malmstrom Air Force Base, where Air Force One was awaiting the President’s imminent return to the capital. The real President’s body was left, decapitated and lacking its manhood, on a field of death somewhere in southern Alberta, the look of contentment remaining on his face until the clean-up crews arrived.

**********

The farms of southwestern Ontario were quiet, the eerie silence of winter having been drawn over them with the first snows a few months before. The day was sunny, and it was hard to go outside without being blinded by the reflected light from the snow. This made for a rather peaceful winter day, the type of day where one sits inside by a fireplace reading a good book, or plotting world domination. You never know about those country types.

The exception, of course, was the noisy, dirty and obnoxious highway 401, the thick and infamous artery connecting the national capital of London with the provincial capital of Toronto. There was no fireplace, no book, and no world domination-plotting. People simply raced back and forth in their cars from point A to point B, hoping not to get in an accident along the way.

The usual sounds of cars and screaming children served to drown out pretty much everything else, for the most part. Of course, some sounds are simply too loud for even a hideously overpowered car stereo to mask. Such was the case when a loud rumbling came from the sky, prompting many of the more stupid motorists to pull over to the side of the highway and look out the window. A few were rewarded by having someone plow into the back of their car at high speed. The majority were far more lucky, and were able to see a massive white shape pass overhead before receding into the distance.

"Dock Control, this is Fron," the CWALer spoke to the communications channel, sitting in the command chair of the CMS Canuck II and looking at the image of Dominion Shipyards on the viewscreen.

"Dock Control reads, Emperor," a pleasant female voice responded. Fron suspected that the military hired women with pleasant voices expressly for such jobs, but didn't really care enough to find out for sure.

"CMS Canuck II is coming in for docking. I'd recommend full power on your end, I'm not quite confident in our mooring systems right now."

"Roger that, Emperor," the voice acknowledged. "Drydock Alpha-Seven has been cleared for your arrival."

Fron motioned to one of the bridge officers, who nodded and pressed a few buttons. "Dock, you have control for final approach."

"Control copies, Canuck II. Enjoy the ride, and welcome home."

"Canuck II confirms," Fron responded wearily, cutting the transmission and leaning back in his chair. Under the shipyard's control, the vessel beneath him began to move slowly forward.

**********

A little while later, after the ship had been docked, Fron was outside on the scaffolding of the dock itself, surveying the damage to the vessel. As he strained to see the tiny bullet holes in the parts of the hull further away, he didn't hear any footsteps until Dr. Turner was standing right next to him.

"’Yello…"

"GYAH!" was Fron's startled response, as he instinctively rolled away from the voice and came up with his cattle prod raised. When he realized who it was, he holstered the prod and stood up.

"You're a bit jumpy today," the doctor said.

"How so?" he replied, looking a bit puzzled.

"Never mind."

"Why'd you come out here, anyway? Isn’t there some kind of Anesthetists Anonymous conference in Toronto that you wanted to go to?"

"I wanted to see what happened to the ship that resulted in so many people ending up in sickbay." She glanced at the Canuck II's wing, which was sitting right in front of them, held in place by grappling cables. "It doesn't look nearly as bad as I thought it would."

Fron grimaced, slightly pained. "You haven't seen the other side, have you?"

"Not yet, why?"

"C'mere, I'll show you."

They walked around to the other side of the ship. When they got there, the doctor raised her eyebrow slightly.

"Interesting..." she said.

"How so?"

"Isn't there supposed to be a wing on this side as well?"

**********

"Sire…?"

Ravil’s eyes opened, revealing a world that looked suspiciously like a water color palette, blurry and unfocused. A blast of heat hit him, causing his body to shudder with the unexpected change in climate. Where was he? A moment ago he had been…where? A dream world? It felt like a dream…he tried to remember exactly where he had been and what he had done, but the harder he tried to remember, the further it slipped away from his mind, eventually vanishing into a murky haze of emotions. All that he could hold on to was one fleeting thought.

His destiny.

"Sire!" the sound came more insistently this time, and was followed a few seconds later by a rather painful kick to the head. The distorted blur of images before Ravil’s eyes hastily disappeared, replaced by a cascading ridge of towering mountains high above him, discharging hundreds of tons of burning molten rock into the air. The pungent stench of sulfur seemed to emanate from everywhere, and the unimaginable heat provided such an immense contrast to the chilly Canadian winters that he had been living through for the past few years that it caused a series of convulsions to run up and down his body before his metabolism was properly adapted again.

A scratchy groan came from his throat as Ravil slowly lifted himself up, rubbing his sore head gingerly. Looking about, the sights, sounds, and smells all began to correlate within his memory, giving him an inner feeling of familiarity, one that he could best categorize as…

…Home.

The fact that there was now a rather irritating Defiler attempting to gnaw on his upper carapace further reinforced the idea that he wasn’t in a completely unfamiliar environment.

"Stop it you idiot!" the hunter killer snarled, batting at the figure with one of his claws until he let go. "I’m awake!"

Cydric, the irritating Defiler in question, quickly stumbled backwards, slightly surprised by his sovereign’s awakening. "Oh, sorry sire. I thought you were dead, and I was kind of hungry so…ah…" he inconspicuously swallowed the mouthful that he had already bitten off.

Baring his teeth, Ravil swung around to face his cowering Chancellor, but as he did most of the aggression drained out of him for the effort. "Cydric…we’re on Char, aren’t we?"

"Either that or Hell, sire, and Turtle told me that Hell isn’t nearly this hot."

The hydralisk gave his head a shake. "And exactly how did we end up here? I don’t remember making any warp jump from Earth."

Cydric scratched his head with a tentacle. "Neither do I, sire. I remember something about a yellow submarine and a bunch of Protoss with clown hats, but no warp jump." He thought about that even harder. "You know, they could have given us a lift here…"

Ravil stopped to consider, scratching his chin with one of his forearm claws. "Destiny…"

"What was that, sire?"

"Cydric, why do you think that we’re here?"

The Defiler shrugged, or at least gave the closest Defiler approximation. "To serve you, sire, same as I’ve always done." He looked around again. "Hey…we’re here by ourselves, aren’t we? No Turtle…no Aura…no Sofie. Just you and me! The old team again!"

This brought a wry smile to the hydralisk’s face. It wasn’t a particularly pretty sight. "Then perhaps that’s what’s in store for us, Cydric."

"Sire?"

Ravil squinted. "We’re going to find Kerrigan, Cydric. She’s here…I can feel her presence. She’s probably still in orbit on her infested platforms…safe from us, for now. But she can’t stay up there forever, and when she comes down…" he clicked his mandibles in anticipation, "…that will be our day."

The two of them stood there, upon the burning landscape of their home world, gazing off into the fiery sunset as the unstable planet bubbled and boiled over all around them. Ravil knew that it was here that he would find the Queen of Blades…and when he found her…

It was his destiny. He knew that more certainly than he knew anything else at that moment. Earth was but a memory now…the Zerg Canadians—his Zerg Canadians—were to live on within him. His mind drifted back to Sofielisk…Turtle…Aura…Palin…Geek…and all of his other minions over the years. Yes, he knew that they would. Watching the sunset, there on the burning world of Char, the realization came over him that this was to be the end of an era. But not just the end…also, a beginning. He was going to find Kerrigan. He had to.

"You know, sire, it occurs to me…" Cydric said thoughtfully, gazing upwards as one of the volcanoes behind them erupted violently, "…that we don’t have to wait for Kerrigan to come down to get at her. If we were to toss ourselves into one of those volcanoes at the precise right moment, the velocity might be sufficient to launch us into orbit, where we could drift around until we find Kerrigan’s platforms, and then…"

"Cydric?"

"Yes sire?"

"Shut up."

"Yes sire."