"Well, would you look at that."
Marcus chuckled as he studied the fragment pulsing with blue energy at his feet. The piece of Xel'Naga artifact sat nestled in cooling lava, completely unscathed by the apocalyptic heat that had melted everything else around it.
"This thing's got more durability than I expected," he mused, genuinely impressed. The fragment hadn't just survived the phoenix strike—it hadn't even been scratched. The surrounding ground had liquified and was still glowing red-hot, but the artifact remained pristine, its blue light steady and unwavering.
Marcus reached down and grasped the fragment, pulling firmly. The piece came free from the molten rock with surprising ease, trailing strings of cooling lava that quickly hardened and fell away.
The moment it left the ground, something changed. Perhaps responding to the massive amounts of energy that had just been unleashed around it, or maybe reacting to Marcus's touch, the fragment suddenly came alive. Blue electrical arcs danced across its surface, crackling and sparking with ancient power.
"We've got what we came for! Time to move out!"
Marcus's voice carried clearly across the ruined compound. The announcement was meant for everyone—General Zod and his Kryptonians, Jim Raynor and his raiders, all of them.
For Marcus, this Xel'Naga fragment served exactly one purpose: energy extraction. Beyond that single utility, it held no value to him whatsoever. He had no interest in its historical significance, its role in Protoss mythology, or whatever other properties it might possess.
Following Marcus's command, the Kryptonian strike team converged on General Zod's position, forming up with military precision. Meanwhile, Marcus turned his attention elsewhere, walking deliberately toward the massive Khaydarin crystal that powered the Tal'darim compound.
The enormous crystal floated in the air, suspended by technology and psionic energy, still pulsing with power despite the devastation around it. Marcus regarded it with interest. Like the Xel'Naga fragment, this crystal could provide Aya essence—another useful resource worth claiming.
Under the stunned gaze of everyone watching, Marcus drew back his fist and struck the Khaydarin crystal with devastating force.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. The entire floating crystal structure shuddered from the impact. Hairline fractures appeared across its surface, spreading like a spiderweb. Then, with a sound like a thousand windows shattering at once, the crystal exploded into countless fragments.
Void Falls
A swirling vortex of darkness materialized in Marcus's outstretched hand. The Void energy pulsed and rotated, creating a gravitational pull that defied normal physics. The shattered Khaydarin crystal pieces, some as small as pebbles and others as large as a person's torso, were yanked toward him by irresistible force. They tumbled through the air, drawn inexorably into the space before Marcus where he could collect what he needed.
He didn't need every fragment—just enough to extract a decent amount of Aya essence. The rest, like the Xel'Naga artifact after he was done with it, would be meaningless to him. Resources to be discarded or distributed as he saw fit.
After gathering sufficient Khaydarin fragments, Marcus reached out mentally to contact Will. Their business here was concluded. Time to leave before this solar system tore itself apart.
Jim Raynor came to the same conclusion. The moment he spotted the Xel'Naga artifact fragment in Marcus's hand, glowing with that distinctive blue light, he understood that the operation had reached its end.
Whatever Marcus planned to do with the artifact, whatever came next, none of it mattered right now. First priority: get off this planet before the supernova turned them all into cosmic dust.
"Operation complete. Get us out of here!" Jim's voice was crisp and professional over the comm.
"Order received, Commander!" The Hyperion's mechanical adjutant responded immediately, her synthesized voice crisp through his helmet speakers.
Jim holstered his weapon and made his way toward Marcus, picking his path carefully through the rubble and cooling slag. There was something he needed to know, and the uncertainty was eating at him.
"Mr. Marcus," Jim began, his tone cautious, almost diplomatic. "What exactly are you planning to do with that Xel'Naga artifact fragment?"
There was careful evasiveness in Jim's voice, a man trying to ask a difficult question without giving offense. He'd just watched Marcus incinerate a group of High Templars without apparent effort and casually destroy a Khaydarin crystal with his bare hands. The power on display made Jim very, very careful about how he phrased things.
Deal with it?
Marcus glanced at the artifact fragment in his hand, one eyebrow rising slightly at the question. It was a fair thing to wonder about, he supposed.
The truth was, this fragment of the Xel'Naga artifact was functionally useless for most purposes. If he had to assign it value beyond energy extraction, its only real application would be as a weapon against Amon—and even then, only when combined with all the other fragments.
The artifact's true nature, once all its pieces were reforged together, was essentially that of a key. A very powerful, very specific key that could open the Temple of Ulnar where the Xel'Naga had once dwelled. That was its core function, its reason for existing.
Everything else—the derived abilities, the special properties people attributed to it—those were just side effects. Interesting side effects, admittedly, including the artifact's documented ability to purge Zerg infestation from living tissue.
If Marcus remembered the timeline correctly, Jim's lost love Sarah Kerrigan would eventually be cleansed by this artifact's power. The complete, assembled artifact would burn the Zerg corruption out of her, transforming her from the monstrous Queen of Blades back into a human woman.
Unfortunately, the story didn't have a happy ending. The bad blood between Arcturus Mengsk—the ruthless head of the Terran Dominion—and both Jim and Kerrigan ran too deep. Shortly after Kerrigan regained her humanity, events would spiral out of control. Jim would be captured, and Kerrigan, driven by fury and desperation, would return to the Swarm. Under the guidance of Zeratul, the Dark Templar, she would voluntarily become the Queen of Blades again, this time evolving into something far more powerful than before.
But all of that was future events. Right now, Jim was just a man asking about a glowing piece of alien technology.
"I need to study it for a bit," Marcus said with a casual shrug. "Run some tests, extract what I need from it. After that?" He gestured dismissively. "It's yours to do whatever you want with. Though if you're planning to sell it, you'll need to negotiate with Zod and his people. They did help acquire it, after all."
Jim processed this answer, relief evident in his posture. The artifact would be returned to them—that was good news. But negotiating with General Zod and the other Kryptonians about its ultimate fate? That was a conversation he'd need to approach very, very carefully.
After all, Jim and his raiders had gathered this fragment primarily because they'd heard someone was buying Xel'Naga artifacts for substantial money. The actual purpose of the artifacts, their true function and capabilities? That remained largely mysterious to them. They were essentially treasure hunters who'd stumbled onto something far more significant than they'd realized.
As they stood there talking, the sky above them suddenly darkened dramatically. An enormous shadow fell across the ruined Tal'darim compound, blotting out the angry red sun.
"Ah, perfect timing. Our ride's here!" Marcus grinned. "See you soon, Jim!"
Without waiting for a response, Marcus launched himself skyward. Flames erupted around him as he shot upward like a rocket, General Zod and the other Kryptonians following close behind. They streaked toward the massive vessel that had just arrived, disappearing into its hull within seconds.
Left standing on the ground, Jim and his raiders could only stare upward in stunned silence.
The ship was enormous. Impossibly large. It made the Hyperion—a Behemoth-class battlecruiser and one of the biggest vessels in the Terran Dominion fleet—look like a small transport by comparison.
But size wasn't the only striking thing about it. The technology was completely different from anything Jim recognized. It bore no resemblance to Terran engineering, to the brutal functionality of Dominion vessels. Instead, the sleek lines and elegant design language reminded him more of Protoss architecture—all graceful curves and seamless integration.
If Jim didn't know for certain that Marcus and his people were human (or at least human-like), he might have genuinely believed they were Protoss in disguise. Some kind of elaborate masquerade.
But the implications were staggering. A human vessel this size, with technology that matched or exceeded the Protoss? The firepower it must carry, the weapons systems it could deploy... Jim's tactical mind raced through scenarios, none of them comforting.
If this thing opened fire at full capacity, what could possibly stand against it?
A familiar thrumming sound interrupted his thoughts. The Hyperion descended from orbit, its engines burning as it maneuvered into position above the raiders' location.
The contrast was even more striking now with both ships visible. The Hyperion was undeniably large—a capital ship by any reasonable standard. But next to Marcus's vessel, it looked almost quaint. Small and outdated.
It was like comparing the Hyperion to one of their Viking fighters. The scale difference was that dramatic.
"Mount up, people! We need to be off this rock five minutes ago!"
Jim's voice snapped his team back into motion. They'd been gawking at the massive ship like civilians watching a military parade. Professional soldiers didn't have time for that kind of distraction—not with a supernova counting down to detonation.
His raiders hustled toward the Hyperion's drop-ship, equipment clanking as they moved. Every second they stayed on this planet increased the odds of dying in a stellar explosion.
"Hey, Jim. You okay, man?"
Tychus's voice cut through Jim's thoughts as they boarded the Hyperion together. His old friend had been studying him with concern. "You've been spacing out since we got on the ship. What's eating you?"
"Nothing." Jim shook his head, the movement slight but definitive. "Just thinking."
He headed toward the equipment bay to remove his combat armor, but his mind was elsewhere, still churning through questions without answers.
Who are these people really? Where did they come from?
Jim Raynor had spent years in the Koprulu Sector. He'd fought Zerg, battled the Protoss, survived conflicts against the Dominion. He'd seen psychic soldiers, witnessed alien technology, experienced things most people would consider impossible.
But Marcus and his group? They were something entirely new. Powers that defied explanation, technology beyond anything he'd encountered, capabilities that seemed almost supernatural.
Even Sarah Kerrigan in her role as a Ghost operative, with all her psionic abilities and special forces training... even Zeratul the Dark Templar or Artanis the Hierarch, with centuries of experience and advanced Protoss technology... none of them had displayed the kind of overwhelming combat power that Marcus's group possessed so casually.
Though there had been one notable exception.
Jim's mind returned to that moment during the battle when the Tal'darim High Templars had unleashed their psionic assault. For just a few seconds, General Zod and Faora had been vulnerable. They'd lost control, thrashing in obvious pain as the mental attack tore through their defenses.
It was the only weakness Jim had observed. The only crack in their seemingly impenetrable armor.
Psychic attacks. They're vulnerable to psionic power.
The realization was significant, potentially crucial. But as Jim's thoughts turned to Marcus, his brief hope faltered.
Compared to Zod and the others, Marcus was clearly on another level entirely. His abilities were more diverse, more powerful, more refined. And Jim had barely scratched the surface of what the man could do. He'd witnessed the teleportation ability and those devastating flames, but there had to be more. Much more.
"Who the hell are you people?" Jim muttered under his breath as mechanical arms began removing his power armor piece by piece.
The equipment bay's machinery hissed and clanked around him, the familiar sounds of a soldier's routine. But nothing about this situation felt routine.
Hiss—clunk
The last piece of armor detached with a burst of pressurized air. Jim stepped out of the bay, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness.
"Commander!" Matt Horner, the Hyperion's captain, approached quickly, his expression tight with concern. "We need to break orbit immediately. The stellar readings are off the charts—that supernova could go at any moment."
"We can't leave yet." Jim's response was immediate and firm. "Marcus still has the Xel'Naga artifact fragment. We came here for that thing—we're not leaving without it."
Matt frowned, clearly torn between following orders and keeping the ship safe. "Marcus and his people—you mean the group you encountered on Typhon?"
Jim had briefed Matt on their new allies during the mission prep, but the captain had remained on the Hyperion, monitoring from orbit. He hadn't witnessed their capabilities firsthand.
"Yeah, that's them. They should still be in the system somewhere, probably on that massive ship..." Jim trailed off, looking toward the viewport as if he could spot the vessel through the hull.
Beep beep beep!
Alarm klaxons blared across the ship, cutting Jim off mid-sentence. A moment later, a bridge officer's voice crackled over the intercom.
"Commander Raynor, Captain Horner! We're receiving an unknown communication signal. Origin unidentified, encryption pattern doesn't match any known protocol."
Jim and Matt exchanged glances—surprise mixed with understanding. Then both men took off at a run toward the bridge.
They burst through the bridge doors moments later, slightly breathless. The crew was at their stations, several of them clustered around the communications terminal.
Sure enough, there on the comm display was a signal using an encryption method Jim had never seen before. Not Terran, not Protoss, not even Zerg biological signals. Something completely alien to their experience.
"Open the channel," Jim ordered, moving to the communications station. "Let's see who's calling."
The comm officer nodded and activated the connection. After a brief moment of static, a familiar voice emerged from the speakers.
"Jim Raynor? Can you hear me?"
"General Zod?" Jim felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. He'd expected Marcus, maybe, but not the Kryptonian commander. "That you?"
"It is." Zod's voice was crisp and businesslike through the comm system. "Marcus is currently examining the artifact fragment. Once he's finished his analysis, it will serve no further purpose for us. You're welcome to dispose of it as you see fit—sell it, study it, whatever you choose."
Jim felt a wave of relief. The artifact would be returned. That was one problem solved.
But then Zod continued, and his next words made Jim's relief evaporate.
"However, in exchange, we require all available information on psionic energy and the Protoss. Everything you have—technical data, combat analysis, physiological studies, tactical assessments. All of it."
Ah. There it is.
Jim's eyes narrowed slightly as pieces clicked together in his mind. Zod's demand wasn't random—it was directly connected to what had happened during the battle. The Tal'darim High Templars' psionic assault had affected the Kryptonians in a way nothing else had.
They were powerful, incredibly so, but they'd discovered a vulnerability. And now they wanted to understand it, to find ways to defend against it.
So psionic attacks do hurt them, Jim thought, filing the information away carefully. That's their weakness. Maybe their only weakness.
Despite the tactical implications, Jim found himself sympathizing with Zod's position. If he'd discovered a threat that could bypass all his defenses, he'd want to understand it too.
"Alright," Jim said slowly, thinking through the logistics. "We can compile that information for you. But how exactly are we supposed to make this exchange? We don't even know where you are right now."
The Hyperion's sensors hadn't picked up Zod's ship. For all Jim knew, they could be on the other side of the system.
"Look forward. Directly ahead of your current position."
As Zod's words came through the comm, Jim and Matt both turned to face the main viewport at the front of the bridge.
What they saw made both men's jaws drop.
Space itself seemed to shimmer and distort. Then, like a predator decloaking, a massive vessel materialized directly in front of the Hyperion. It simply appeared from nowhere, its enormous bulk suddenly dominating their entire field of view.
The ship was so large it blocked out the stars. It was so close that the Hyperion's bow was nearly touching its hull. And it was so advanced-looking that every instinct Jim had was screaming that they were hopelessly outmatched.
"My God..." Matt breathed, his face pale. "That's... that's their ship?"
Matt Horner had been commanding the Hyperion for years. He'd faced down Dominion battle groups, navigated through Protoss fleets, survived encounters with Zerg leviathans. He'd seen nearly every type of vessel the Koprulu Sector had to offer.
But this? This was in a class by itself.
The Hyperion was a Behemoth-class battlecruiser—one of the largest ship classes in the Terran Dominion arsenal. It was supposed to be imposing, intimidating, a symbol of military might.
Next to this behemoth, the Hyperion looked like a toy. A child's model next to the real thing.
As they watched in stunned silence, a section of the massive ship's hull began to open. Massive bay doors parted, revealing a hangar space that seemed impossibly large. The opening was easily big enough to accommodate the entire Hyperion with room to spare.
"The supernova here is about to detonate," Zod's voice came through the comm again, practical and matter-of-fact. "We're planning to relocate to a safer system. To avoid any... unfortunate accidents, we're extending an invitation. Bring your ship aboard. You can travel with us."
Jim stared at the yawning hangar bay, his mind racing through implications and possibilities. He looked at Matt, reading the same uncertainty in his captain's expression.
"We should accept," Jim said quietly, so only Matt could hear. "If they wanted to destroy us, they wouldn't need elaborate tricks. One volley from a ship that size would vaporize the Hyperion before we knew we were under attack."
Matt swallowed hard but nodded. The logic was sound, even if the situation felt deeply uncomfortable. "You're right. If General Zod had hostile intentions, we wouldn't have a chance of escape anyway. At least this way we might survive the supernova."
"Do it." Jim raised his voice to address the bridge crew. "Helm, take us into their hangar bay. Slow and steady."
"Aye, Commander!" The helmsman's hands moved across his controls, though Jim could see the tremor of nervousness in the man's movements. "Beginning docking approach."
The Hyperion's engines thrummed as it began moving forward, approaching the massive opening in the alien vessel's hull.
"Attention all hands," Matt's voice boomed across the ship-wide intercom. "Attention all hands. We are beginning landing procedures. All personnel, secure your stations and prepare for docking operations. I repeat: secure your stations and prepare for docking."
The announcement rippled through the ship, leaving confusion in its wake.
In the crew quarters, in the engineering bay, in the galley and med-bay and every other compartment of the Hyperion, people stopped what they were doing and stared at speakers in bewilderment.
Landing? Already? We just took off!
They hadn't even left orbit yet, hadn't even begun the journey away from Typhon's dying star. So why were they landing?
For a few heartbeats, wild theories ran through people's minds. Were they giving up? Planning to die on the planet when the supernova hit? Had something catastrophic happened to the ship?
But then reality reasserted itself. Jim Raynor and Matt Horner were a lot of things, but suicidal wasn't one of them. If they were landing the ship, there had to be a damn good reason.
Trust won out over confusion. Whatever was happening, the crew would follow orders and deal with the details later.
The Hyperion glided forward, its massive bulk dwarfed by the even more massive hangar opening before it. From the bridge, Jim and Matt watched the walls of the alien ship slowly enclose them on all sides. The scale was genuinely disorienting—it felt less like entering a hangar and more like being swallowed.
Then, with a final adjustment from the helmsman, the Hyperion settled into position inside the cavernous bay. Landing gear extended with mechanical precision, and the ship came to rest with a gentle shudder.
Behind them, the enormous bay doors began to close, sealing them inside with the slow inevitability of a vault being locked.
Under Will's control, the Dark Star's navigation systems came fully online. The AI plotted coordinates for their next destination, calculated the jump vector, and engaged the ship's advanced propulsion systems.
The Dark Star surged forward, space rippling around it like water disturbed by a stone. Reality twisted, bent, and the massive vessel slipped through the opening into warp space.
Moments after the Dark Star vanished through the spatial ripple, the fabric of space-time sealed itself, the distortion fading back to normalcy.
And just in time.
Typhon's star, having burned through the last of its fuel, finally reached the critical point. The fusion reactions that had sustained it for billions of years collapsed. The star's core imploded, then rebounded with apocalyptic violence.
Light. Blinding, all-consuming light erupted across the system. The supernova's fury expanded outward at a significant fraction of light speed, an expanding sphere of annihilation that vaporized everything in its path.
The planet Typhon, already wreathed in flames from the rising temperatures, didn't even last a microsecond. The world was simply erased—torn apart on a molecular level and scattered across the void as superheated plasma.
The entire Typhon system, every planet and moon and asteroid, every particle of matter, was obliterated in that dazzling cataclysm. Where a solar system had existed moments before, now there was only an expanding cloud of stellar debris and radiation.
The Dark Star emerged from warp space in a different region entirely, the spatial ripple of its arrival dispersing quickly. The massive vessel oriented itself, scanning the new system.
Below them, a planet rotated slowly in the void—a world bearing the terrible scars of devastation. This was Tarsonis, or what remained of it.
"We've arrived," General Zod's voice echoed through the corridors where he walked with Jim, Matt, and several other Hyperion officers. "I believe you should be quite familiar with this planet."
Zod had been giving them a tour of the accessible sections of the Dark Star. Most areas were open to guests—the Kryptonians weren't particularly secretive about their vessel's general layout. The truly sensitive areas, of course, remained restricted, but there was plenty to see otherwise.
Hiss—
A mechanical sound interrupted the tour. From the corridor's wall, a weapon turret extended with smooth precision, its barrel rotating to aim directly at one member of their party.
Tychus Findlay froze mid-reach, his hand hovering over some piece of alien equipment he'd been about to touch.
"Warning," came a cold, synthesized voice from hidden speakers. "Tychus Findlay. You have been observed touching ship equipment without authorization. Continued violation of this restriction will result in immediate defensive action. This is your only warning."
The turret remained locked on Tychus, its targeting system painting him with a visible red laser dot right over his heart.
Will, the AI that controlled the Dark Star, had been monitoring the Hyperion crew since they'd come aboard. Within minutes of their arrival, it had accessed the Hyperion's own computer systems and downloaded relevant information about each crew member.
Tychus Findlay's file had raised immediate red flags. The man had a history of impulsive behavior, criminal associations, and a dangerous tendency to touch things he shouldn't. Will had been watching him closely, and its patience had just run out.
Tychus slowly raised both hands, backing away from the equipment panel he'd been examining. "Whoa there, easy! I wasn't gonna break nothin', just lookin'!"
The turret tracked his movement precisely, the barrel following him like a predator's gaze.
"Your record indicates otherwise, Mr. Findlay," Will's voice responded flatly. "Remain at least two meters from all ship systems. Failure to comply will be interpreted as hostile action."
Jim closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course Tychus would find a way to almost get shot on the friendliest ship we've encountered in months.
"Tychus," Jim said with strained patience, "stop touching things. That's an order."
"Yeah, yeah, alright. Sheesh." Tychus kept his hands raised and visible, moving to the center of the corridor where there was absolutely nothing within arm's reach.
The weapon turret remained extended for another long moment, its targeting laser still painting Tychus's chest. Then, apparently satisfied that the warning had been understood, it retracted back into the wall with a final hiss.
General Zod watched the exchange with something that might have been amusement flickering across his otherwise stoic expression.
"Your crew is... spirited," he observed diplomatically. "Now, shall we continue? Marcus should be finishing his examination of the artifact soon. Then we can complete our transaction."
Jim nodded, shooting one more warning glare at Tychus before following Zod deeper into the Dark Star.
Behind them, Tychus muttered under his breath but kept his hands firmly in his pockets. He'd pushed his luck far enough for one day.
The tour continued through the alien vessel, each corridor revealing technology that made the Hyperion's systems look primitive by comparison. And somewhere ahead, Marcus was unlocking the secrets of a Xel'Naga artifact.
Whatever came next, Jim knew one thing for certain: his universe had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.