"By the way, I heard you also captured a Protoss." Arcturus had no intention of leaving just yet. He regarded the Protoss as little more than beasts in cages, and harbored an intense loathing for other alien species.
"Yes, it was a Tal'darim Protoss we captured on Bel'Shir. I believe he's being held right here." Augustus had been preparing to leave, but upon hearing Arcturus's words, he stopped in his tracks.
"Do you want to see him?"
"That's one of the reasons I returned to Umoja," Arcturus said, a shadow passing over his cold gray eyes. "A mining team under my command disappeared on a distant world, and several rescue squads sent to find them also vanished without a trace."
"I suspect the Tal'darim Protoss are responsible," he said.
"I don't have an army under my command and can't risk going in alone."
"It might not necessarily be the work of the Tal'darim Protoss," Augustus shook his head. "From what I know, the Tal'darim are only one branch of the Protoss race."
"What's the name of that lost world?" Augustus asked as they walked toward another section of the research station.
"Its initial designation was N-212—it was the 212th system we reached after departing from Umoja, located in the Sigma Quadrant," Arcturus replied.
"Perhaps that Tal'darim Protoss might know the planet's name." When Augustus heard the term "Sigma Quadrant," he had already guessed seven or eight parts of the truth. Even so, he quickened his pace, following Arcturus through the corridors of the research station in search of the Tal'darim Protoss, leaving Brova and his men to clean up the aftermath.
On the way, Arcturus spoke of some of his experiences exploring worlds beyond the Koprulu Sector.
For the most part, they were expeditions in search of rare Ardeon crystal veins and high-energy gas resources. The few incidents worth mentioning were limited to encounters with groups of pirates or occasionally unearthing fossils of extinct prehistoric creatures on some planet.
"I brought Valerian a few gifts—he's fond of aliens and fossil digging." For once, Arcturus showed a trace of gentleness, though to outsiders, he always appeared to be a strict father toward his son.
At the mention of his son, Arcturus glanced toward Jim Raynor beside him, having heard that Raynor's wife had recently given birth to a child with psionic potential.
"Jim, how did John's psionic test results turn out?"
"The preliminary test was Level 8—and it might be even higher." Raynor was taken aback. "Honestly, I'd rather John were just an ordinary person."
"John is still just an infant. Valerian, on the other hand, is much like you once were—he yearns for the stars and the unknown," Augustus said with a nod. "When you grow older, Arcturus, you'll find yourself caring less about such things. Perhaps Valerian is more suited to being an archaeologist."
"Impossible." Arcturus immediately grew displeased. "A Mengsk cannot become an archaeologist."
"No. One day I'll grow old, and there must be someone to inherit my cause." His tone of absolute refusal was identical to that of Angus when he had forbidden him to enlist all those years ago.
In the end, Arcturus had gradually become the very kind of man he once despised—a patriarch who used authority to dictate the paths his children would take.
"Seems you understand nothing at all, my brother," Augustus said, shaking his head.
"Archaeology is the most promising profession in the stars," he said with a laugh. As far as humanity was concerned, its greatest legacy had always remained within the Solar System.
"..." Arcturus was struck speechless. "What value could relics possibly have—unless they can be turned into shells and battleships?"
"Your way of teaching Valerian hardly suggests you want him to become an archaeologist. Thanks to you—and your Julianna's gentle parenting style—Valerian will only end up a romantic poet, not a Mengsk."
"I only taught him to be strong," Augustus said.
Augustus and Arcturus walked along while talking, speaking of their experiences since separating on Meinhoff last time. When they mentioned their childhood, both brothers were filled with emotion. Arcturus had truly become an explorer and prospector, while Augustus had also fulfilled his wish of becoming a Marshal of the army—though of a rebel army.
By now, even Arcturus had to admit that his father Angus might have been right, though he still harbored resentment toward him.
The two conversed happily, and those following them—such as Kerrigan and Raynor—merely listened, feeling the familial warmth radiating between the ten-years-apart brothers. The Mengsk family had always valued kinship, and in these two, that trait was especially evident.
The gloom brought about by the Hydralisk's earlier rampage was temporarily set aside, and Augustus's frown relaxed.
The area "detaining" the captured Tal'darim Protoss from Bel'Shir was the Eighth Polar Research Sector. As he had hoped, Arcturus found the Tal'darim Protoss sitting in a chamber decorated in the architectural style of the Tal'darim, inhaling Terrazine.
The sealed room was built of soundproof panels and had no windows except for one tall door. Within, a single crimson crystal served as the light source, casting an eerie and dim glow.
"What's his name?" Arcturus asked Augustus, standing at the open doorway of the dark room.
"Okan," Augustus said. "If you address him as Master Okan, he will feel somewhat gratified."
"With his help, we've gained a certain level of understanding regarding the Tal'darim Protoss's social structure, political landscape, and religious beliefs," Augustus said.
"The Tal'darim worship the deities known as the Xel'naga. Internally, they revere Highlords as their supreme rulers. Every Tal'darim, from birth, follows a hierarchical system called the Chain of Ascension. Each individual occupies a specific position within this chain—from slave to Highlord, from low to high—and those beneath must obey the commands of their superiors, bowing their heads and kneeling in submission," he said.
"The Tal'darim Protoss's technology is far beyond ours, yet internally they follow a system equivalent to human slavery. For now, their worship of the gods has reached a level of fanaticism that is simply unbelievable."
"Come out, Master, and meet your guests." Arcturus knew the other could read his thoughts, so he could not be bothered to feign courtesy. His tone carried neither respect nor politeness. Had it been a human, even a prisoner, Arcturus could have spoken patiently—if that person possessed any worth deserving of his time.
"You should be thankful it is not the wrath of the psionic blades that greets you—you hate the Protoss." From within the dim room, a Tal'darim Protoss stepped out, one side of his limbs replaced by black alloy prosthetics, his fury provoked by Arcturus's insolence.
After being captured by humans, this Tal'darim Protoss had been treated far better than any Tal'darim Dragoon. Among humans, he had regained a measure of respect and was invited to participate in xenobiological research projects. At least here, most of his demands could be met, and there was an endless supply of Terrazine for his use.
"I know what you wish to ask me." The Tal'darim Protoss, Okan, drew from Arcturus's mind the matter of his prospecting fleet's disappearance in the Sigma Quadrant. "I know the answer."
"At that location lies a base of the Tal'darim Expeditionary Force. There is an ancient Xel'naga Worldship there—a vessel the Creators themselves once traveled in during the dawn of this universe," he said. "From what I know of my kin, your subordinates and workers have no chance of survival."
"A vast expeditionary fleet is stationed there, and if you intend to seek revenge, it will be nothing short of suicide. A single Tal'darim Mothership could annihilate all of humanity's scrap metal."
Arcturus merely fell silent and nodded slightly, acknowledging the Tal'darim Protoss's words.
"We'll settle accounts with those Tal'darim Protoss sooner or later. We lost quite a few people on Bel'Shir as well," Raynor spoke up.
"I've heard the Tal'darim Protoss are formidable warriors—fond of close combat, devoted to their use of cold weapons," Arcturus nodded, turning toward the Tal'darim Protoss Okan. He suppressed his anger and said calmly, "We could spar a little."
For a long time, Arcturus's understanding of the Protoss had remained limited to images and dissection reports. Once, some had believed that they were merely a race that had gone extinct millions of years ago.
Arcturus looked straight at the giant who was three heads taller than himself. "I brought a sword."
"Arcturus, Master Okan is our honored guest and eternal friend." Augustus had no desire to see his elder brother flattened to the ground by a Tal'darim Protoss in some inexplicable duel. Even if this Tal'darim Protoss now had to rely on prosthetics to walk, he was still a long-lived being with several centuries of combat experience
"Don't worry. This is merely a ceremonial spar."
"Give him a sword." Arcturus took his own saber from one of his guards—it was a bright double-edged sword with a crimson gem embedded in the hilt.
"I've long wanted to test myself against a Protoss."
At this time, Arcturus had just passed thirty, and his energy and strength were still at a man's peak. He was curious about the Tal'darim Protoss's methods of combat, and he wondered whether their fighting skills were truly superior to those of humans.
Arcturus had been praised as a master of swordsmanship from a young age. His dedication to refining his skill with melee weapons was precisely to prepare for situations where firearms were lost, for this man had always believed that one's own strength was far more important than any external aid.
"We would often call someone like you 'the strongest among their kind,'" the Tal'darim Protoss Okan said arrogantly. "Even without a weapon, I could defeat you—but as a gesture of respect, I shall use a human weapon to beat you."
The Tal'darim Protoss accepted an unsharpened training longsword. The blade was only about 1.24 meters long, and in the hands of the towering Protoss, it looked like a slightly elongated dagger.
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