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24.08.904.M38
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"Did no one see them coming?" I asked my Ghosts as they supervised the transfer of the cargo.
"No, my Lord Regent," one of the Psi-Ops operatives replied. "We were meticulous with every movement. We managed to bring what you requested, although convincing them was not easy."
He gestured toward the rear section of the stealth ship.
The outer hatches sealed behind me. When the internal ones opened, I found the three Protoss High Templars I had requested to investigate the incident.
"Terran… I would say it's a pleasure to see you, but I would be lying," said the templar leader as he advanced toward me, his voice resonating directly inside my mind. "Why were we summoned? If I recall correctly, our treaty clearly specifies the places we are allowed to move through and forbids us from leaving the station."
"We have an attempted demonic possession," I replied bluntly. "According to the information from the Ghost governor I have there, he felt nothing. Either he's lying to me, or we're dealing with something capable of going unnoticed even by one of my best men. That's why I brought you. I need your help."
The High Templars hovered in silence, their leader standing with arms crossed. Unlike those who appeared more fragile, the templar leader was what one could call the pinnacle of Protoss physical prowess—tall even for a Protoss, nearly reaching three meters, with arms as thick as heads, clearly one who preferred to fight using all his powers rather than casting them from afar.
"Ah… one of those demons you spoke of," the templar finally replied. "Then yes, this requires investigation." He began to walk, his steps echoing against the ship's metal.
"We lost one of our high command," I continued. "They tried to dominate his will. He resisted long enough to put a bullet through his own head. That tells me this wasn't an isolated case. I suspect there are more entities trying to take control in this area. And you have more experience than I do in the use and detection of psionic energies."
I motioned to one of my Ghosts to initiate the journey to the planet where Harlan had died.
"The armor you requested is ready," another Ghost reported.
"They are similar to Psi-Ops armor," I explained, looking at the High Templars. "A bit thicker, designed to conceal the physiological differences between you and us. It's necessary. We cannot allow it to be known that there are still Protoss alive."
"Terran armor…" one of the templars commented, running a hand over the camouflage dermis. "Although it was created by the Khalai caste, it remains inferior to what could be achieved if you mastered your own psionic powers better, instead of spending resources repressing and controlling them."
"Unlike you, we didn't have thousands of years or a total connection between our minds to push us ahead of all other psionic races," I replied telepathically, without softening my tone. "It hasn't even been a century since the first Ghosts appeared… and yet you expect us to be at your level." I paused briefly before adding, "You'd better get used to it. I plan to integrate several of yours as active members of my Psi-Ops."
The templar leader studied me in silence, weighing what he had heard.
"That is not part of the path we agreed upon, young Terran," he finally transmitted, stepping closer. His height forced me to tilt my head up. "It does not even brush its intent."
"No," I conceded. "But agreements are not static. They are reformulated when conditions change." I inclined my head slightly. "And conditions are changing. Protoss reproduction is faster than ever. Sooner or later your facilities will become too small… and when that happens, you will come to me asking for space."
"You perceive patterns clearly for a Terran mind," the templar leader replied.
"Information is power," I shot back. "And I do not negotiate without holding all the cards."
I met his gaze. "So let's settle this now. The Protoss will commit to sending me forty warriors per year… for a period equivalent to your life cycle."
"Our bodies endure for roughly a millennium," the templar replied.
"Then two centuries," I nodded. "Equivalent to the twenty years of service we demand from our troopers. In return, I will build more Ghost training facilities, expand their production, and provide additional habitats. The rest of the deal remains intact." I allowed myself a faint smile. "A reasonable exchange."
"We do not seek more cages suspended in the void," the templar leader transmitted. "We desire a world. Real soil. A place where the echo of our species is not contained by metal."
I crossed my arms. "That is impossible," I replied plainly. "The moment my subordinates detect Protoss presence on a planet, they will proceed to exterminate them. Terrans hate you. They will always remember Chau Sara. It is etched into our education and it will not be erased." I inclined my head slightly. "Shielded space habitats with anti-sensor plating, under direct Psi-Ops coverage. No one in the Dominion can touch them except me. That is all I can offer you, Daelaam."
The templar remained motionless for several seconds.
"A cycle will come in which your species will pay the weight of its arrogance," he finally transmitted. "But we accept the exchange." His focus sharpened. "Which brave Protoss do you wish to spill the blood of your enemies? Templars? High Templars? Nerazim?"
"Nerazim and High Templars," I replied without hesitation. "High Templars are essential for training, and removing them from the facilities isn't ideal, but for surveillance and detection. Having them deployed on key worlds can prevent this from happening again. The Nerazim, of course… masters of close combat and quieter than our best Ghosts."
"I will explore the possibilities," the templar leader replied. "When will you begin expanding the new habitats?"
"Next year," I said. "Current budgets are already committed. A sudden change would jeopardize battlecruiser production, and right now we need them to patrol all our space."
"I will be watching your commitment," the templar transmitted as he moved toward his armor.
"Lord Regent, we have arrived," one of my Ghosts reported. "We entered orbit shortly after you began your exchange with the Protoss."
"Good," I nodded. "Gear up. We're going to sweep this place."
The Protoss donned their armor. When they were finished, they looked like tall, slender humans, though two of them hovered slightly above the ground, and their leader stood out even then.
Our first stop was Harlan's office, recently cleaned by the forensics teams.Upon arrival I encountered the Ghost who governed the planet; I quickly read his mind and found it clean—he truly knew nothing and had detected nothing.
As soon as we stepped inside, I felt that something was wrong, though I couldn't put my finger on it.
"Do you feel it?" I asked my Ghosts. They all shook their heads.
"Predictable," transmitted one of the High Templars, pointing at a book on the desk. "Young minds rarely perceive echoes."
The templar leader approached, opened his hand over the book, and a brutal psionic pressure flooded the room. The object—an apparently ordinary volume—began to writhe, mutating into something made of flesh and human skin.
"Shit… kill everyone who interacted with the book!" I shouted. "Now! Eliminate all the forensics personnel and doctors. Read the minds of their families and close contacts. If you detect any alteration, kill them as well. Keep going until there are no affected left. Move, now!"
A dozen of my Ghosts sprinted off immediately, vanishing down the corridors to head for the White Star.
I pulled up Kurt's recordings to see when the book had reached Harlan. It had arrived two weeks earlier, delivered by a maid. Reviewing her history, she had been part of the governor's household staff and seemed to have avoided mind-reading when my governor began scanning for hidden loyalties.
"I perceive a presence anchored to this object," the templar leader transmitted. "This is not a residual echo. It is an active will. Antagonistic. It whispers promises of power… it whispers change."
"The Changer of Ways…" I said, without taking my eyes off the book.
The room filled with crushing psionic pressure as all the energy focused into the templar's palm. The air vibrated. The book twisted and emitted an unnatural shriek, as if something were trying to tear its way out from within.
Something began to take shape.
The silhouette of a daemon emerged halfway—deformed, screaming in desperation as the templar channeled ever more power. The entity struggled, writhed, until its psychic structure began to fracture before our eyes.
The form shattered into fragments of warped energy.
The book collapsed into a viscous mass. The templar raised his hand, and a psionic beam reduced it to ashes in an instant.
"Now I understand why so many Ghosts and soldiers died trying to capture you," I murmured, watching the residue dissipate. "Did you banish it?"
"I would not describe what occurred as a banishment," the templar transmitted after a brief silence. "I severed the link that fed it. Isolated its anchor. Then I attempted to unravel its imprint in the spiritual weave."
"Did you… did you kill it?" I asked, surprised.
"I do not know," the templar replied. "Entities of that order do not obey the conventional concepts of death your kind uses. I can only state that its presence here has been denied… for now, or permanently."
"Do you sense anything else?" I asked.
"It was not hidden," the templar leader transmitted as he moved forward. "It was veiled. An intense presence dampened by layers of distortion. To you it would have been nothing more than an irrelevant vibration… background noise."
We followed him without a word. We left the governor's palace and entered one of the planet's many mines—ancient installations being adapted to new extraction methods. We descended through tunnels sealed after the veins were exhausted, until we reached a dead end.
The feeling that something was wrong returned.
A High Templar raised his hand. The tunnel wall dissolved like a poorly held shadow, revealing a hidden passage.
When the illusion fell away, I immediately felt the pressure of the Warp flowing from the depths.
"Call in all available assets," I ordered, leaning forward to try to see the bottom. "This won't be quick."
We waited as the call went out. Five hundred Ghosts began to converge within minutes, moving toward our position for combat.
Just before we advanced, I received a transmission.
"Hendrik… I've got four missing doctors and cameras looping in several sectors," Kurt said over the comms. "Was this you, or do we have a serious problem?"
"Yes," I replied, surprised by how quickly he had deduced it.
There was a brief silence.
"Understood. I'll pull them from the search. I'll report they were sent to a frontier world and listed as lost in action," Kurt said before cutting the link.
"Politics," I muttered, looking at the Protoss.
"A brutal policy… but a necessary one," the templar leader transmitted. "That entity would have sown fracture in weak minds. Chaos would have contaminated the Terrans… and the Daelaam as well. Khalai, Nerazim, and Taldarim alike."
We entered the tunnel.
It didn't take long to find the first remains.
Twisted shapes that had once been people were chained to the walls. Elsewhere, bodies covered in pulsing tumors, pierced by hooks that tore their flesh again and again, kept barely alive by forces that did not seek to kill them… but to use them.
My Ghosts advanced in formation, weapons raised, covering every angle as we descended into ever-deeper caverns. They secured the flanks, checked every side tunnel, every fork, every shadow.
Until we reached the point where the Warp energy was so dense that the air itself seemed to resist our presence.
When we entered the cavern, we found an enormous group of cultists. The mark of Tzeentch covered their bodies, carved into flesh, bone, and living mutation. They were preparing a ritual—symbols drawn in blood, artifacts and human remains arranged in patterns that twisted reality around them.
The one standing at the center of the circle looked directly at us, clearly surprised.
"My master foretold your presence…" he said, flashing a warped smile. "Though not at this time. But change is always good." The three mouths scattered across his body opened at once, full of teeth, revealing a torso completely mutated, alien to any human form.
"EN TARO ADUN," a Protoss telepathic cry resounded.
His psionic blades ignited and he surged forward like lightning. He moved—instantly cutting through the line of cultists—and the release of psionic energy detonated in a brutal explosion. Dozens died on contact, their bodies reduced to ash or torn apart as they were hurled in every direction, unable even to scream.
The cavern shook from the impact.
"I knew you were hiding things from me… there's still more to tear out of you," I murmured, activating my own blades as I advanced toward the ritual, hearing hundreds of blades ignite behind me.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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