StarCraft II: Devils' Due by Christie Golden Read Free Book Online Page A

was
    about to boot the beacon al the way to Shiloh. He
    gritted his teeth, turned, and kicked out at a rock
    instead. He wished he could tear this whole place
    down around him with his bare hands. He forced the
    anger down and ran a hand through his wind-tousled
    hair, then made his decision.
    He knelt beside the beacon and erased the
    message on it. Thumbing a button, he heard it click
    and hum and come to life as it recorded.
    “Can’t come to Shiloh, and you know it. I got the
    heat al over me. And … tel Mom to take the damned
    money.” Somehow. Get her to take it, and you better
    not be touching one lousy credit yourself. He thought
    of Karol Raynor, that steady, stable, wise woman, and
    swal owed. “I don’t care how you do it; just do it. And
    don’t contact me anymore unless you gotta.”
    And that was al he had to say, real y. For al his
    comments about being a man who didn’t beat around
    the bush, Myles was being very cryptic. Raynor ended
    the recording. He tapped in a few coordinates, flicked
    a button, and the beacon whirred and vibrated for a
    bit before retracting its landing legs and moving
    slowly skyward, hovering there for a moment before
    suddenly shooting straight up.
    It was going home, to Shiloh.
    Jim Raynor wasn’t.

CHAPTER FIVE
    TARSONIS CITY, TARSONIS
    Ezekiel Daun’s duster moved with him, bil owing
    about his calves as he strode fluidly down the long,
    dim hal way. In one hand he carried a smal satchel.
    His booted feet were muffled by carpeting as he was
    led through the building by a cheerful, smiling young
    man. The high-rise was a maze of corridors and
    elevators and secured rooms, most of which looked
    identical, so Daun supposed it was logical to assume
    he might get lost.
    He knew, however, that such a concern was not the
    real reason for the guide. He had been examined—
    politely and courteously and with many apologies, but
    stil frisked—when he had arrived. The guard had
    worn an expression similar to the white-clothed man
    who was leading him at the moment; apparently the
    boss man wanted al his employees to be
    resocialized. Daun imagined that made them easier
    to manage.
    Al his employees, of course, except those he had
    to go outside his little group to hire.
    Like Daun.
    “And these are the master’s quarters,” the
    resocialized servant, or resoc, said, stopping in front
    of a large door. In contrast to the sleek, modern,
    artistic feel of the rest of the high-rise, this door
    looked somber and forbidding. It would take a lot to
    break through the thick neosteel door, and the keypad
    on the right demanded not just a code, but fingerprint
    and retinal scans as wel . Humming a little to himself,
    the resoc entered the code and submitted the other
    verifications of his identity. After a moment, with a
    groan of protest, the door slid open. It was even more
    dimly lit inside than in the corridor, and initial y Daun
    could see nothing.
    “He’s expecting you,” the resoc said. “Please go on
    in.”
    “Thanks,” Daun said.
    “I’l be waiting right outside to take you back when
    you’re finished.” The resoc beamed as if the prospect
    of this made him deliriously happy.
    “Of course you wil .”
    The attendant’s smile never wavered as the door
    slowly closed.
    Daun’s eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. He wasn’t
    sure what to expect, but this certainly wasn’t it. There
    were various computer stations and other pieces of
    equipment in the room, outfitted with many blinking
    lights and operated by resocs who did not give Daun
    a second glance. But that was not what so intrigued
    Daun.
    What intrigued him was a large metal coffin. Or at
    least, it looked like a coffin. Lights chased one
    another along the outside, and several tubes went in
    and out from smal apertures. Another caretaker
    stood discreetly off to the side in front of a screen on
    which statistics rol ed constantly, and a strange
    bel ows-like contraption moved slowly overhead.
    There was a