Echoes of Death

A/N: Bit of a teaser from the sequal I'm writing. I'm managing at least 5 chapters a week, anyone have a preference to whether I post as I finish, or post in clumps like I did with Shadows From the Badlands?

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The background noise on the the Terran Dominion ship Wings of Liberty was gently luring Captain Matt Horner into a sense of lethargy. It had been three months since the rebel group that he belonged to, Raynor's Raiders, had taken the Dominion capital planet of Korhal, and assassinated the would be leader of the of all of humanity in the Koprulu Sector. Now, with Emperor Mengsk's death, his son, Valerian Mengsk had taken over, with the tacit approval of Raynor and his followers. The whole organization still fell outside the command of the Terran Dominion, and served as both a reminder to would be tyrants, as well as reassured the general populace that they were still being protected.

As for his new ship, fresh out of the shipyards, the Wings of Liberty counted as a gift from the new emperor, after the old flag ship had crashed, or been crashed, during the war. The issue of hybrids was being somewhat swept under the rug, pawned off as secret weapons developed by the old leadership. He was now taking it on it's maiden voyage, allowing the distinctly non military crew to strip off the formal military fittings. He had managed to keep most of the surviving crew of the Hyperion, and they were making good time. He just wished that this sector of space wasn't so peaceful, now that the evil dictators and rampaging alien bugs had been dealt with.

The silence was broken almost immediately by the technician manning the communications console, "Sir, I'm picking up a distress signal, 30° port, range is an estimated .08 light years."

"Sound general quarters. Put the signal on speaker. Helm, plot warp jump to that location, engage on my order." Around him the ship came to life as the alarms rang throughout the massive hull.

"This is Lil-board the refug-Pandora's Hope, we are-attack by unkno-please assist," the garbled message repeated, marking it as an automated message.

"Check the registry for a Pandora's Hope," he order of one of the bridge crew, whoever conducted the research was unimportant. A refugee ship this far off the shipping lanes was unusual, and the signal, transmitted on an analog frequency, lacked any of the digital markers typically imbedded in most modern communications.

His helmsmen spoke up, before any one could offer input on the ship in distress, "Sir, course ready, we can jump on your mark. Transit time is a little under 4 minutes."

He waited several seconds. Hoping someone would be able to find the information he wanted to ease the doubt that was forming in his gut.

His time was up, "Ready all weapons, and execute warp jump."

The subtle lurch as the ship left normal space and time behind was less violent then the Hyperion, and the ship was markably faster. The 4 minute countdown timer would have had several additional minutes tacked onto it, and if this was a legitimate distress signal, then those handful of extra minutes would be all the more important when conducting a rescue.

He passed the minutes watching the rest of his status boards light up, indicating stations reporting in that they were combat ready. His old command could have managed in a little under five minutes, but most of his people were still unused to the new ship, with it's new layout, and the week he had drilled them was not enough to provide them with the familiarity needed to get it done quick enough. Still, as the six minute mark from the general quarters alarm passed, only a handful of stations were unready.

The ship lurched again, signaling it's return to normal space without the helmsmen or navigator needing to inform them. Sensors began reporting in, and in the distance five ships could be seen, adrift and streaming atmosphere. The lead ship was still transmitting it's looping message, with no change.

His executive officer, Lt Mason interrupted his review of the tactical screen, "Sir, positive ID, those are U.E.D. transport ships. Unarmed. No sign of their attackers, but radiation levels indicate it was recent, less then 10 minutes old."

"Energy weapon fire then? Protoss or human." The thought that a band of rogue Protoss or humans attacking conveys, or refugees in this area, so far from most military outposts, was daunting, it would take months just to scout the area in enough detail to find a pirate base, months in which more attacks would happen.

"Unknown, doesn't match anything on record." was his XOs response.

"Keep our distance, in case whoever did this come back we'll need room to maneuver, and prep boarding shuttles."

In less then a minute, the tactical display changed, showing the launch of almost 15 ships, modified drop ships that were the new norm in conducting boarding maneuvers in deep space. The Hyperion had lacked the numbers of small craft needed for this, often necessitating the need to get very close to a target in order to board it. As the shuttles approached the derelict ships, the drop-ships life sensors began cutting through the radiation, showing dozens of people, human, alive on each ship. In spite of the damage, they had arrived in time to rescue at least some of them.

None of the boarding parties met with hostiles. The feeling of dread that Matt felt in his stomach did not abate as the marines and medics loaded the dazed and injured refugees onto the drop ships for return to the Wings of Liberty, and at the top of the people he wanted to talk to was Lilith, the woman who his marines had identified as being the one in charge. She was also one of the only people not suffering from injuries, for whatever reason she had suffered no radiation exposure. The few other refugees able to talk seemed to both fear and respect her, but for whatever reason would talk further of what happened, short of being attacked by demons, and her managing to fight them off long enough to rescue them.

The woman his marines escorted to his office was striking underneath the lairs of grime coating her face. She had a presence that reminded him distinctly of Sarah Kerrigan, and a frighteningly familiar gait.

The illusion was only heightened when she spoke, her voice having the same familiar flirt he had heard in Kerrigan's the few time he had spoken to her, "Thanks for the assist." She eyed him up and down, and Matt got the impression that it was not flirtatious, but more likely deciding on where to shoot him if it came down to it. He eyed the gun at her side, and it had a familiar look to it, similar to what the U.E.D. archeologist he had met a few months back had carried.

"Glad to be of help, Ma'am," was his terse reply, "If you could give me some info-"

He was cutoff as Lilith seemingly picked the question he was asking right out of his head, "Yeah, yeah, you want info, I need my ship salvaged, specifically it's main computer core, she's got all the information you'll need."

He was beginning to suspect she was either a latent telepath, or possibly a former ghost, lost to whatever administration had been in charge when she was active. She had the look and confidence about her, as well as her eyes seeming to pierce his mind.

"She?" he asked questioningly. It was common to refer to the ship as a woman, but very seldom did anyone refer to a computer as such.

"My A.I. Brought me hear. She," Lilith stressed the word, "Has been very helpful, if uninformative."

Matt nodded in understanding. A.I.s were almost unheard of, and no computer in the Koprulu sector could handle the programming for one. No human computer at least. Protoss computer could, and in fact did so with regularity. He quietly informed his executive officer, who was still manning the bridge, to get a salvage operation underway before turning from the intercom to once again regard the strange woman in front of him.

"There, done. Now, while we wait, will you kindly be willing to provide me with whatever information you know about whoever attacked you?"

"What, you think the mentally impaired locals I brought with me weren't telling the truth? We got attacked by demons." She looked amused, as if she enjoyed making him squirm with discomfort at the religious implications, while simultaneously insulting the people she had just rescued.

"Demons?" he asked, trying for diplomatic, but if it was as he thought and the woman really was telepath would be pointless.

"Yeah, Mr. Horner," he had never given him her name, and he was now positive she was taunting him. "There was a demon imprisoned on the world we just left, Pandora, and some other lesser demons came and set it free, after me, the heroic treasure hunter, had just finished shutting it away. And, even better, my guardian angel told me to come here, to this forgotten stretch of wasteland, for some reason which she won't tell me."

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. This aptly named woman was playing with him. "Gotcha, aliens attacked, and your A.I. Sent you here."

She simply clapped her hands together in mock applause, and winked at him.

"What did they look like?"

"Big, about 15 feet tall, some of them glowed blueish, most were black," a shiver passed up Matt's spine as she continued, "Waiving around these big tentacles growing out of their back. I think the glowing ones were mind readers or somethin, some people start acting funny when they're around. They have better shields then I do, and mine are pretty strong," as a finally confirmation she flourished a blade, "And best yet, you cut an arm off, it just grows back. But I'm guessing you know all this."

Matt nodded, unable to speak. His face had lost all color. The hybrids had all been exterminated in the Koprulu sector, but they had never even thought to look in the rest of the galaxy. Mengsk had done them partially a favor, gathering up the ones that he did, one big fight and they thought that it was over.

He keyed the intercom to the bridge, finally able to speak, "XO, as soon as the salvage team returns, get us headed back to Korhal, best speed," he waited just long enough to hear the confirmation, before cutting the connection. "Pandora, huh? Before you tell me everything, I know a guy who went there, ever meet a Michael Carson?"

Lilith's eyes immediately became stormy, "Yeah, that bitch still owes me 50 bucks, and he stole my favorite pistol."