"I've met members of the Sons of Korhal. They're ordinary people too—not the demons UNN makes them out to be."
"I've never doubted their loyalty," Augustus replied. "I even sent several Ghost operatives to join the Sons of Korhal."
"Arcturus doesn't care much for Ghosts," said Warfield, who had once served under him back when Arcturus was a colonel commanding the 33rd Ground Assault Division. "But he seems to like the Ghost you sent—designation 24718—as well as the new agents and assassins trained by the Augustgrad National Security Council."
"I hope 24718 serves Arcturus well," Augustus said.
"Where is he now?"
"The last I heard from Arcturus, his mining fleet had already reached Pegasus outside the Koprulu sector. They didn't find much this time, but they did uncover a well-preserved alien ruin. Umojan scientists are fascinated by it, and their project sponsors are willing to pay hard currency to acquire such things," Warfield explained.
"Unlike those explorers who always come back empty-handed, Arcturus never returns without something of value. Many credit it to his uncanny intuition and luck in finding crystal veins and alien ruins. But that's only because they've never seen how much time he spends studying geology and learning to operate resonance scanners."
"The funds Arcturus entrusted to me have been a great help," Augustus nodded. "I no longer have to agonize over military expenses, and I even have surplus left to purchase new weapons."
"You're not fighting this war alone, Little Mengsk. There are many standing behind you. Some are willing to die for you simply because they truly believe in you." Warfield placed a heavy hand on Augustus's shoulder. "We will win in the end."
"Because we—and justice itself—are on your side."
"And there's more good news," Warfield added. "The holds of those battlecruisers are packed full of weapons, munitions, and nearly ten thousand sets of Umojan-manufactured replicas of the CMC-200 powered armor."
"Your brother spent a great deal of money on this. You know as well as I do—Umoja would never just hand you that kind of equipment for free."
Augustus nodded, then noticed footsteps echoing from the far end of the corridor. Among them he caught the sharp tap of high heels.
Rounding the corner came a red-haired man with a tall mohawk crest—Hank Harnack, a member of Heaven's Devils whom Augustus had not seen in some time. His gait was no longer the unsteady, drifting stagger of old. After so long apart, Augustus was surprised to find that Hank now carried himself with something of a Revolutionary Army general's bearing.
During the defense of Korhal, the Heaven's Devils who had remained in the system eventually departed for Umoja. Now, they had returned to Mar Sara together with Warfield's fleet.
"Boss! I brought a full squad of flamethrowers!" Hank bellowed the moment he saw Augustus, still carrying himself with the same country bumpkin air as before.
While in Umoja, Hank and the other senior officers had attended refresher courses at the Umojan military academy, but it seemed Hank himself had not changed much at all.
Next came Lundstein, the young commander whom Augustus had long entrusted with great responsibility for his steadiness and reliability. In the defense of Korhal he had lost two brothers and three uncles, and his elder brother had fallen on Tarsonis. The once-prominent noble line of Styrling now teetered on the edge of extinction. Lundstein had grown ever more withdrawn, wrapping himself in his greatcoat. At the sight of Augustus, he merely gave a silent nod.
The last to arrive was Lisa Cassidy, dressed in the uniform of a Marine Corps field medic. She wore thick black radiation-protection frames, her ginger hair tied back into a long ponytail.
The moment Lisa saw Augustus she broke into a smile—but when her eyes shifted to Kerrigan behind him, they hardened with barely concealed loathing. She hurried forward, heels clicking against the floor, and threw her arms around Augustus in a sudden embrace.
...
Sarah Kerrigan had always been a sharp judge of character. She could easily hear the thoughts of others, and neither a woman with a venomous heart nor a cowardly rat could escape her eyes.
Thus, Kerrigan placed Lisa Cassidy—the medic of the Heaven's Devils—into her list of the unwanted. That list otherwise included only a handful of people, such as instructors from the Ghost Academy and Tychus Findlay.
"The time's up, Marshal Augustus." After watching Lisa and Augustus locked in a tight embrace for more than two seconds, Kerrigan impatiently flicked her fiery red ponytail. She lifted one hand and lowered her gaze to her wrist, as though checking a digital watch that wasn't there.
"You still have an ongoing meeting. The fleet's star-jumper departs at 21:00," Kerrigan said. "Before the star-jumper reaches the transport ship behind Mar Sara, I think you'd best close your eyes and rest for two hours."
"Your personal assistant?" Lisa pushed Augustus away and spoke with a tone far too familiar to be mere subordination.
"Yes." Before Augustus could answer, Kerrigan cut in: "In fact, I shoulder far more duties than handling his food, clothing, lodging, and travel. I protect Marshal Augustus Mengsk's safety, and by authority as a member of the Augustgrad National Security Council, I arrest anyone who approaches him with sinister and unpredictable intent."
"But I heard she's only sixteen?" Lisa was clever enough not to address Kerrigan directly. Instead, she placed a hand on her hip, fixing Augustus with her enchanting light-blue eyes. As she spoke, she adjusted the wrinkles in his collar with a scolding look, as if seeing again a husband long absent because of military service.
"She's already suffered much in the past, and now she bears far too many responsibilities. Shouldn't you send this child to school, let her study at a proper university?"
Lisa did have the standing to jab at Kerrigan's age. At twenty-seven, she had weathered trials Kerrigan had not, and she understood more of the world's ways.
"I wonder who told you that. Have the rumors about me already reached Korhal and Umoja?" Though Kerrigan was far more composed and mature than most girls her age, she still revealed the sharp edge and queenly aura that belonged to her.
"Captain Lisa Cassidy, I am willing to shoulder these duties and swear to devote everything to them—for all my life."
"Life is long. You can't stay by his side forever." Only then did Lisa turn her head toward Kerrigan. Even when storms rolled across the sky, they took time to gather—but the shadow on Lisa's face appeared in an instant. In a flash, her expression darkened like heavy clouds. This medic, who had once severed enemy limbs with a laser rifle in battle, was no gentle woman.
"That's none of your concern." Kerrigan pressed her lips into a thin line, as if they could breathe out a gust of icy wind.
"I'd advise you to hold back your filthy words and stop your malicious speculations."
"I haven't said a thing." Lisa strode toward Kerrigan, pulling open the white coat draped over her uniform to reveal the deep-gray army fatigues of the Revolutionary Army beneath. Hanging from her neck was her identification, and at her waist gleamed an electromagnetic sidearm.
Though Kerrigan was still young, she already stood a little taller than Lisa, and her chest was noticeably fuller than Lisa's plain figure. Between them, heads held high, it was clear that Kerrigan's presence carried the greater force.
"But that's what you're thinking," Kerrigan shot back, locking horns with Lisa.
"I am not some mistress."
"Looking for a fight?" Lisa gritted her teeth. "I almost forgot—you're a damned psionic. And you'd better cut out that mind-reading trick. Get out of my head."
"I can make you clutch your skull and weep right now," Kerrigan answered without the slightest step back. "Want to try me?"
At that very moment, Augustus's trusted men—Warfield, Harnack, and Lundstein—had somehow gathered together, whispering to one another, stealing glances at Augustus and the two women at his side, occasionally pointing with knowing gestures.
"That's the boss for you." Harnack wore a proud grin, though Warfield and Lundstein had no idea what he was so pleased about.
"I told you back when we were on Tarsonis—the noble ladies there were desperate to throw themselves into his arms. Even the men wanted a few words with him."
"I think you're not wrong," Lundstein nodded. Though he didn't clarify which part he agreed with, he somehow seemed to follow Harnack's line of thought.
"And when exactly was that?" For once, Warfield showed a rare spark of interest in Augustus's private affairs. Truth be told, Warfield had always seen himself as Augustus's elder. He had once served under Augustus's brother, Arcturus, and back when Augustus was in the camps, Warfield often looked out for him.
"Any of you know more?"
"Back when we were in the Confederate Marines, Lisa and the boss already had eyes for each other. Nobody knows if they ever went to bed together, but I'd bet it wasn't far off." Harnack analyzed with conviction, then concluded: "The boss lived with Lisa for a while. You both know that."
"So what about that redhead?" Lundstein, usually indifferent to Augustus's private life, asked at last. Despite being among Augustus's most trusted men, he knew no more than the others.
"She your kin? Only time I've seen red hair like that was on you."
"Could be," Harnack replied. "After all, my family only immigrated to Shiloh two generations ago. They say she's a former Confederate ghost. She was supposed to assassinate Angus, but after the boss captured her, she switched sides to serve the Revolutionary Army."
"We all think the boss was damn bold. Hiring a ghost who once tried to kill his father? That's one thing. But to keep her as his personal bodyguard? That's not like him. Normally he only trusts the Heaven's Devils and a handful of others."
"Of course, it's not exactly unheard of. You know the boss—young, handsome, wealthy, and a giant of thought. If he were some rude, fat, hairy, ugly bastard, none of this would be happening."
"You've picked up quite a few new words, Harnack," Warfield remarked. "Looks like spending time in Umoja rubbed off on you. You've adopted that flowery way of speaking they're known for. They say Umojans are raised swimming in an ocean of art, and your schooling there was in New Austria, the capital of music itself."
"I think so too. It's good that you see it this way, General." Harnack, after all, had never known humility to be a rare and precious quality.
"Listen, I've seen this kind of scene too many times with the boss. Believe me, nothing good ever comes of it. Those two women—each one's tougher than the other." Harnack sighed to himself again.
"When the boss one day ends up with his heart shattered by these women, only then will he realize we're the ones who truly have his back."
"You're not wrong," Lundstein nodded.
"You all know psionics have their powers. They can even move objects without touching them." Harnack's voice carried a note of fear for the future he imagined. "If those two actually fight, it won't just be hair-pulling and torn clothes."
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