"Damn, we've stirred up a hornet's nest."
"You people don't actually think all that scrap metal of yours can do anything more impressive than crash face-first into the ground, do you?"
The haughty Tal'darim lord could have taken a little time to finish off Ryk Kydd and his soldiers, but he clearly found more satisfaction in expressing his contempt for humankind.
"In your eyes, that might already count as a battleship—but to me, it poses no threat whatsoever. It's just a buzzing insect I can swat dead at any time."
The armored Tal'darim lord stared straight into Ryk's eyes. In the next instant, his body—clad in black and crimson armor—was converted into molecular energy and teleported aboard the Tal'darim warship. To human eyes, he vanished almost instantaneously.
"We'll settle this debt another time, Ryk Kydd."
At the same moment, the Tal'darim carrier interceptors circling above the jungle, along with the small unmanned ships armed with plasma cannons, began climbing skyward at astonishing speed—so light and graceful they seemed like feathers carried by the wind.
Then, that magnificent Tal'darim carrier—its elongated frame radiating both elegance and aggression—disappeared from human sight, as though it had never existed at all.
Over Bel'Shir's sky, now dyed crimson by the evening glow, countless Terran landing craft, transports, and fighters emerged from within several battlecruisers. The light produced by the ships rubbing against the atmosphere grew ever brighter with time.
"This is the flagship Hyperion of the Korhal Revolutionary Army. I'm Jim Raynor."
Hearing Raynor's voice come through the comm channel filled Ryk with a warmth of familiarity.
"You've done us a great favor, Jim."
Ryk knew Raynor couldn't hear him, but he said it anyway: "Hard to imagine what these more than three million people would've done without you."
By now, night had quietly fallen over Bel'Shir. The lush jungle instantly lost its color, and under the starlight, countless luminous plants began to awaken.
"Commander, the enemy's withdrawn. Should we keep retreating?"
One of Ryk's officers asked over the command channel.
As if vanishing in the blink of an eye, the Tal'darim had disappeared just as swiftly as they'd arrived; their ground troops melted back into the jungle. Ryk and his men couldn't help feeling the exhilaration of surviving certain death, and pride swelled within them for their fleet.
Ryk switched on the floodlight mounted on his power armor's chest and scanned the surroundings.
"Hold position. Fire signal flares."
At his command, several crimson signal flares arced into the sky, their wavering glow illuminating the night.
While awaiting reinforcements, Ryk found the captured soldiers—those whose eyes glowed with faint violet light—and ordered them to stay within his line of sight.
During that time, Sergeant Sidman once again repeated the so-called prophecy of Bel'Shir, which only further irritated Ryk.
Aside from his strange rambling, Sidman showed no other abnormalities—his mental state and sense of self remained perfectly intact.
Still, Ryk couldn't tell whether all Terrazine across the planets caused such effects—or if it was only the kind found here on Bel'Shir.
For the next several dozen minutes, Ryk stood tensely prepared for an earth-shattering battle, bracing for a brutal fight to the death.
Yet, until dozens of Revolutionary Army transports and shuttles finally landed within the jungle, the Tal'darim warships and their ground forces never reappeared.
He had originally thought that once that Tal'darim lord started spewing threats, the arriving Revolutionary Army fleet and the Tal'darim fleet would immediately clash in Bel'Shir's synchronous orbit.
Yet instead, the enemy had fled so easily—there could be only one explanation for such an arrogant creature to retreat in disgrace: their strength on Bel'Shir was far weaker than they claimed.
Ryk suddenly recalled the Tal'darim lord's title. He was only a captain of an expeditionary fleet, which meant Bel'Shir might not even be a colony of their species—perhaps only a few Tal'darim warships or a small force were stationed here.
"Hey, who's your commanding officer?"
At that moment, several Revolutionary Army transport ships painted in silver-white landed around Ryk. The strong wind from their engines toppled the jungle shrubs and the plants blooming with pink flowers.
A squad of soldiers in white power armor, golden eagle insignias emblazoned on their shoulders, disembarked one after another. The leading officer opened the silver-coated visor of his helmet and strode toward Ryk with that distinctive, swaggering gait of his.
That familiar voice and manner instantly reminded Ryk of a rather unpleasant figure—Commander Edmund Duke of the Confederate Navy's Alpha Squadron.
The moment Ryk's men saw the Alpha Squadron insignia, they raised their Gauss rifles. Seeing this, Duke immediately shouted, "Hold your fire! We're on the same side. This is Alpha Squadron of the Korhal Revolutionary Army. I'm Brigadier General Edmund Duke."
As he spoke, Duke pointed to the golden wolf emblem of Mengsk on his chest and loudly emphasized his identity.
"Take a good look at this—I'm with the Revolution. We came all the way from several thousand light-years away to fight aliens. We spent two whole months stuck on the ship—damn near drove us insane. This isn't the kind of life fit for human beings."
"I sure as hell don't want to die at the hands of my own men."
For a moment, Ryk thought he must be mistaken—but Duke's loud, overbearing tone and that signature angular head of his left no doubt.
Ryk had left Korhal a year ago; he knew nothing about the recent victories of the Revolutionary Army on Mar Sara, nor that Duke, after being captured, had defected to Augustus.
"You must be insane—or maybe I am. This is even harder to believe than the entire Tarsonis Federal Council resigning at once. Either that, or you're Duke's miserable twin brother."
"I'm Ryk Kydd, Major General of the Marines," he said without conviction. "Anyway… it's good to see you."
"Where are the enemies—I mean those invisible freaks? When we were up in orbit, I saw their glittering ships. We fired a few shots at them, and they scattered like rats. If you ask me, there's no point coming all this way just to fight them. The real priority should be wiping out those Old Families on Tarsonis."
Wearing his white command power armor, Edmund Duke approached Ryk, leading a dozen elite guards of Alpha Squadron.
Glancing at the mangled bodies of Revolutionary Army soldiers cut apart by Tal'darim warriors, Duke arched an eyebrow but showed no sign of fear.
"Medic! We've got heavy casualties here."
Although full of bad habits from head to toe, Duke did possess a certain quality that ordinary men lacked. Even past the age of forty, he still carried the reckless spirit and excessive confidence of a newborn calf unafraid of tigers.
Whether against the Kel-Morians, the Revolutionary Army, or alien lifeforms, Duke would always grab his gun and charge straight ahead.
If a commander wanted Duke to be useful, then he should put him and his men at the very tip of the spear—never expecting Duke to use his head when leading a charge.
"They're already dead. The enemy tends to favor killing in a single strike," Ryk said with a sigh.
"Then I suppose we've got some bodies to recover. Take those trai—those soldiers away. The Navy never leaves a comrade's corpse behind."
Duke examined the wounds of the fallen, and even he couldn't help but feel wary of the enemy capable of inflicting such devastating injuries.
"Looks like the enemy has already withdrawn," Ryk said, shaking his head.
"What a damn letdown. I'd bet any alien creature would flee the moment it takes a single shell to the face."
Even though he now took these aliens seriously, Duke's mouth refused to yield.
"Good. Fighting aliens is what I do best. But it seems they don't have the guts to face the mighty Alpha Squadron."
"Oh, I remember you—the youngest son of the Bennett family. I should've recognized you back on Turaxis II, but it's been, what, over a decade since we last met?"
Now that he knew the enemy had retreated, Duke's expression turned to disappointment—but he wasn't the kind to blame Ryk for failing to hold them.
The Duke family and the Bennetts shared a long history. As two of the most influential houses on Tarsonis, their members were well acquainted with one another.
"I remember your sister was quite the Tarsonis beauty. Compared to her, you're just an ugly duckling."
Duke never cared about anyone's feelings. His infuriating habit was always saying exactly what shouldn't be said—and when courtesy was called for, he could be unusually cruel and cold.
"You're right. My sister was truly an exceptional person, while I've always been the useless one who can't do anything right."
Ryk always grew dispirited when mentioning his family, though he never let Duke's words get under his skin.
"I've already severed all ties with my past… What surprises me more is you, Duke. If I hadn't known the Hyperion was the one arriving, I'd have thought the Confederates had come to help us."
"Defected to the light," Duke said flatly, unwilling to dwell on why he'd joined the Revolutionary Army.
"In short, we're all in the same boat now—sharing honor and disgrace alike. Only by toppling the Confederacy can we secure a place in the new government. For that, I don't mind smashing a few councilmen's faces in."
"Sorry—you, not we."
Ryk shook his head. "I didn't join the revolution for fame, wealth, or some lofty ideal. I joined because Augustus Mengsk leads it."
"No need to declare your loyalty so eagerly. I don't believe anyone's immune to the thrill of power."
Duke snorted dismissively at Ryk's words.
"Maybe some people don't care for money or beautiful women, but no one can refuse power."
"My instincts tell me you might be right—but there are always exceptions," Ryk replied.
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