Graham McNeill - I, Mengsk

A communication like this was the equivalent of your fone ringing in the middle of the night and jerking you from sleep with a deep, gnawing fear in your belly. No one foned with good news in the dark: no one went to the expense and trouble of a real-time communication with good news.

"What is it, Feld?" Arcturus had said, sitting in from of the vidsys unit he'd used to send the news of Valerian's birth to Korhal.

"I'm sorry, Arcturus. I'm so sorry...." said Feld, tears running down his cheeks.

"Sorry...? For what? Listen, Feld, spit it out. What's wrong?" said Arcturus, a lead weight of cold fear settling in his stomach.

"They're dead...all of them...." wept Achton Feld.

"Who?" said Arcturus when Feld didn't continue.

"All of them..." sobbed Feld, struggling to form the words. "Angus... your mother. Even... even Dorothy."

Arcturus felt as though a great black void had opened up inside him. His hands began to shake and he felt cold. His mouth was dry and his mind stopped functioning, unable to process the reality of what Feld had just said.

"No," he said at last. "No, you're wrong. This can't be right. You've made a mistake. You must have made a mistake, Feld! They can't be dead! No, I won't allow it!"

"I'm so sorry, Arcturus. I don't know how it happened. Everything was normal...All the security systems were functional. They're still functional... I just don't know."

Arcturus felt his limbs go numb, as though they were no longer his to control. A rushing sound, like the sea crashing against the cliffs below the summer villa, roared in his head. Feld's mouth moved on the screen, but Arcturus no longer heard the words. His hands pressed against his temples and tears of grief, anger, and sucking, awesome loss flowed with them.

As if he'd taken an emotional emetic, his humanity flowed from him in his tears, and every petty feeling he'd ever harbored toward his family, every feeling of compassion, and every shred of restraint was washed away in a tide of hot tears.

The sheer, unimaginable scale of what had happened settled upon him. It was too much. No one could suffer such a crippling loss and remain whole. The power of his grief tore through him like a hurricane, breaking chains of restraint, honor, and mercy, scouring away all thoughts except one shining beacon that offered a ray of hope, a slender branch of survival to which he could cling.

Revenge.

The people that had caused him this hurt were going to die. All of them.

Arcturus knew that killings like this could only be the work of the Confederacy.

Only they had agents with the skill and gall to perpetrate something so heinous.

Only they had the temerity to think they could get away with it.

Well, Arcturus Mengsk was going to disabuse the Confederacy of that notion.

What was it his father had said?

When all you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail...

The diamond clarity of the thought swept away the drag of his grief and he took a great draft of air, feeling himself fill with righteous purpose as he did so. His tears ceased and his back straightened.

"Tell me what happened," said Arcturus, his voice icy and controlled.

"I...They're dead. Isn't that enough?" said Feld. "You need to come back to Korhal."

"Oh, I'll be coming back soon enough," promised Arcturus. "But tell me what happened."

Feld saw the urgent need in his eyes and nodded, wiping a hand across his face. Arcturus was impressed. Say what you liked about Achton Feld, he was a professional.

"I came up in the morning with the daily security brief, jusl like I always do," said Feld, shoring up his own walls against the grief with commendable discipline. "I passed through the biometric identifiers, swiped my card, and went through into the penthouse. Angus is usually waiting for me, but he wasn't there this morning, which immediately made me suspicious. Katherine... I mean, your mother normally has a pot of java on, but I didn't smell it. That's normally the first thing I notice, you know? The smell of fresh java. But not this morning. I knew something was wrong, so I made a sweep of the apartment."

"What did you find?"

Feld took a deep breath. "I couldn't see anyone. There was no sign of forced entry—I mean nothing. But the door to the balcony was open."

"And?" said Arcturus, when Feld didn't go on. He could see it was taking all of Feld’s self-control to keep speaking, and Arcturus prepared himself for the worst. His jaw tightened. He'd already had the worst... what else could there be?

Feld nodded. "I went out on the balcony. And that's where I found them. The damn force field had shorted out and they were just lying there... like they were asleep. Your mother, Dorothy, and your father. Dead."

"How did they die?"

"Does it matter?" snapped Feld. "Why the hell do you need to know something like that?"

"I need to know," said Arcturus. "I don't know why. I Just do..."

"They were shot," said Feld. "Katherine and Dorothy were shot. One in the heart and one in the head."

"And my father? Was he shot too?"

Again Feld paused, his face averted as though unwilling to meet Arcturus's gaze. "No. he wasn't shot. He was decapitated."

"What?" cried Arcturus. "Decapitated? What are you talking about?"

"You heard me," shouted Feld. "They cut his damn head off. Arcturus! And we can't find it. The sick bastards took it with them!"

He'd terminated the communication soon after, telling Feld to wait to hear from him, that he'd be in touch to sort out what their next move would be. He'd marched from the room and returned to the drawing room where he'd lately been arguing with Juliana and swept up the boattle of brandy.

An hour passed, maybe more, but Arcturus didn't feel the passage of time, his brain whirling in a million different directions as he tried to process the gaping emptiness in his soul.

He took mouthfuls of the brandy, the liquor as potent as ever, but seeming to leave him unaffected. His entire body was numb to its powers, and he drained half the bottle before hurling it into the fire with a splintering crash of glass.

"Waste of good brandy...." he hissed as the alcohol burned off in bright flames.

He heard the door open behind him.

"Arcturus," said a man's voice. "I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard."

He turned to see Ailin Pasleur and Juliana standing at the entrance to the room, as though afraid to intrude on his grief, but happy to watch from the sidelines. His heart twisted with contempt.

Juliana's face was streaked with tears and she held Valerian close to her. The boy's eyes were wide and fearful, not quite comprehending what was going on. Valerian untangled himself from his mother and came over to stand next to Arcturus.

"Is your mum and dad dead?" he asked.

Arcturus nodded. "Yes, Valerian, they are. And my sister, too."

"How did they die?" asked Valerian.

"Hush, Valerian!" said Juliana. "Don't ask such things."

"The Confederacy killed them," said Arcturus, his voice low and threatening. "They killed them because my dad spoke out against them. They killed them because they are animals."

Valerian reached out and hesitantly put his hand on Arcturus's shoulder. "I'm sorry they're dead," whispered Valerian.

Arcturus looked into his son's eyes and saw the honest sincerity of a child, his expression uncluttered by adult notions of propriety or reserve. "Thank you, Valerian," he said.

Ailin Pasteur approached and guided Valerian back to his mother. He took the seat opposite Arcturus and said. "Whatever you plan to do next, I can promise you that you'll have the support of Umoja."

"Like my father did?" said Arcturus bitterly.

"More than that,” said Pasteur. "Arcturus, I've just come from an emergency sitting of the Ruling Council, and in the wake of the Kel-Morians' defeat. Councilor Jorgensen has announced the formation of the Umojan Protectorate. It will be an organization to keep our colony free from Confederate tyranny, to resist their expansionist policies and offer a safe haven to those who stand for freedom."