Horus Aximund. Kerrigan remembers the name, never outright stated, from their last telepathic conversation, and the roiling mass of emotions tied to it. A man Loken considered a brother and killed anyway. She admires the resolve that took, or that she imagines it took. With no family of her own, she has nothing to compare it to.
For a moment, the tableau flickers to a sickly-looking man lying glassy-eyed on a gurney, watched a uniformed military officer standing next to a redheaded little girl in utilitarian clothing, but Kerrigan regains control almost instantly, and the scene returns to New Gettysburg.
No family of her own. Not anymore.
"Probably about what you did." If Kerrigan acts like nothing happened, maybe Loken won't pry. "If there's one thing a ghost is good for, it's assassinations. But you're talking like any of us will ever see our homeworl—universes again."
no subject
For a moment, the tableau flickers to a sickly-looking man lying glassy-eyed on a gurney, watched a uniformed military officer standing next to a redheaded little girl in utilitarian clothing, but Kerrigan regains control almost instantly, and the scene returns to New Gettysburg.
No family of her own. Not anymore.
"Probably about what you did." If Kerrigan acts like nothing happened, maybe Loken won't pry. "If there's one thing a ghost is good for, it's assassinations. But you're talking like any of us will ever see our homeworl—universes again."