Beacon

These are interesting times.

Minister Jorgensen didn't know who'd coined that phrase, only that it had originated from Earth even long before the supercarriers had set out into the void of space. Right now, standing in the command suite of Liberty Station, he reflected that "interesting times" might as well sum up the entirety of human existence. "Interesting times" had taken Earth with the formation of the United Powers League and the subsequent execution or exile of everyone the new government deemed a threat to the new order. "Interesting times" had taken the colonists once they ended up 60,000 light years from home, scattered on three different planets. "Interesting times" had emerged when the worlds of Moria, Tarsonis, and Umoja had made contact with each other, and times had gotten a lot more interesting with the outbreak of the Guild Wars and subsequent formation of the Umojan Protectorate. And a decade after that, times had gotten so interesting that the times no longer involved humanity, but two alien races as well. Plus Umoja coming under indirect control of the newly formed Terran Dominion, plus, the re-emergence of Earth on the galactic stage with the United Earth Directorate.

Interesting times. Even after the UED's defeat and the end of the so-called Brood War weeks prior, times remained interesting. Interesting enough that he was now standing in his office sipping a glass of recycled comet water, overlooking the planet below. Umoja. Verdant, untouched Umoja. Untouched by the Guild Wars, untouched by the Great War, untouched by the Brood War. His planet, his people had survived while billions hadn't. By doing what they'd always done – staying on the sidelines, playing their hand at the opportune moment.

The door to the suite hissed open. "This is a mistake."

He took a sip of the water, not bothering to give the visitor a glance. "Right on time."

"Excuse me?"

"I recall you at the last meeting Councillor Hakim. Given the fuss you raised, I assumed you'd be on your way to my office."

"First of all, it's not your office, it's just the suite reserved for the highest ranking member on Liberty Station at any given time. Second of all, a 'fuss?' I raise legitimate concerns about the course of action you're undertaking, and you dismiss them as a fuss?"

"I and the Council listened to your concerns. Your concerns were noted and recorded for posterity. Still, your concerns were outnumbered by those without concerns, and thus, the system did its job."

"Fekk the system," Hakim murmured. She walked over to the plasteel window and looked at Jorgensen in the eye, before her own eyes lingered on the glass he was holding. "That water?"

He nodded and took a sip.

"Always knew you were too much of a paragon to bother yourself with vices."

"There's a mini-bar if you want something stronger."

Hakim snorted, but nevertheless headed over. Jorgensen, for his part, just stood there. Overlooking his world, and the starships he could see assigned to defend it. In another time, powerful enough to give the Confederacy or Combine pause. In this time, when aliens soared through space in golden chariots, while locusts descended to consume all on the worlds below? He might be able to lie to the populace, but he couldn't lie to himself. Tarsonis had been the most heavily defended world in the sector, and had fallen to the zerg within days. If the zerg wanted to wipe out Umoja, they could. Not within days, but within hours.

"Well," Hakim said, as she walked back over, a glass of klavva wine in her hand. "This is a nice view. I'd so hate to see it ruined."

Jorgensen sighed. "You have something to say Hakim, say it."

She sipped more of the wine then put it down on a nearby table. "This is a mistake," she said.

"So you've told me. In fact, you've claimed I've made one mistake after another for the past year." He put his own water down and looked at her. "You're entitled to do that Jasmine. But before you do, just remember that Umoja is still standing."

She scoffed. "Umoja is still standing because in the past year, no-one's bothered with us."

Jorgensen didn't contest the point – it was true. Debatable, but true. And years of politics had taught him that one didn't debate truth when the truth was known by both parties.

"But of your last two mistakes," Hakim continued. "You. Withdrawing the Protectorate from the Dominion? That is a mistake."

Jorgensen frowned. "Is that the truth? Or your opinion?"

Hakim gave him a look that confirmed that she wasn't some kind of telepath that had escaped the notice of the Shadowguard. She didn't know that he'd been reflecting on truths, prior to reflecting on opinions.

"The truth," she said.

He grunted. "Your opinion."

"Jorgensen, we-"

"No," he said. He picked up the water and headed over to the suite's desk. "Mengsk has proven himself to be no better than the regime he replaced. He's a tyrant, only like the Confederacy, he's a tyrant that knows how to smile."

"You think I care about smiles?" Hakim asked. She walked over to the desk, facing Jorgensen as he sat down. "You've read the reports. The Dominion's fought the zerg. The Dominion's held its own against the zerg."

"Not on Char. Not on Korhal."

"No. But on other worlds. And we've got nothing to gain by antagonizing the Dominion in this time. The zerg may have slunk back to Char, and the protoss are hiding out God knows where, but if we're fighting for the survival of mankind, why are we antagonizing the power who knows more about that fighting than anything else?"

"Because that power is based on power. Because Mengsk wants power. Because for over two centuries, Umoja had been a beacon in the night. A haven for those who've sought better lives from the Combine or Confederacy." Jorgensen leant back in the chair. "Or Dominion, now."

Hakim smirked. "It's nice to be a beacon on the hill," she murmured, "when no-one seeks to topple you from it."

Jorgensen remained silent.

"Speaking of past mistakes, against my advice, you allowed our deep-space net to attempt contact with the protoss, even as they continued to incinerate one world after another." She folded her arms. "How's that turning out?"

Jorgensen scowled. "You know the answer."

"I do. But I'd like to point out that you're apparently more open to diplomacy with mouthless aliens than you are your own species."

"And yet, you extend the benefit of the doubt to dear Emperor Arcturus," Jorgensen said. "Did he join forces with the Confederacy when the zerg and protoss attacked? Or did he take advantage of the chaos as the galaxy burnt around him?"

"I don't know Jorgensen. But as Umojans, we've long had a history of playing the long game, and staying on the sidelines as wars are fought. The beacon on the hill shines only as bright as we allow it."

Jorgensen grunted. "The conversation's over," he said. "We've withdrawn from the Dominion. I won't compromise everything Umoja's stood for to stand with Mengsk any longer."

Hakim nodded and walked away from the desk. But, Jorgensen noticed, not out of the suite. Instead, she walked back to the glass that overlooked Umoja. Down below, he could just make out the Sargasso Ocean, and the western edge of North Sumner.

"It's beautiful," Hakim whispered. "It always has been, isn't it?"

Jorgensen didn't say anything. When their ancestors had left Earth, the planet had been in a state of ecological collapse. Even if the Tarsonians and Morians had seen fit to treat their adopted homeworlds the same way their ancestors had treated Earth, the Umojans had always sought to never take more than what Umoja could provide.

"I'd so hate to lose it. To see that so-called beacon go out." She looked at Jorgensen. "You're a fool, Jorgensen. I want you to know that. When Umoja burns, history will remember you as the man who doomed our people."

"I'll accept the judgement of history," he murmured, "as long as you accept mine. The matter on the Dominion is closed."

"And what of the other matter?" Hakim asked. "The refugee matter? The people you want to welcome to Umoja now?"

Jorgensen frowned. "We're talking only a few hundred Hakim."

"And you know as well as I do that we're talking about the symbolism, not the numbers." She walked back to the desk. "Symbols matter. You know it, I know it, fekk, Mengsk sure as hell knows it. So in light of an invasion from Earth, what message does it send to the people of this sector when we grant amnesty for survivors of the UED Expeditionary Fleet?"

Jorgensen didn't say anything. He wanted to say that it would serve as a symbol of Umoja's capacity for mercy, that the Protectorate was really the only fair and free government in the galaxy, but he doubted that Hakim would accept that right now.

"The UED never invaded us," he said eventually.

Hakim was ex-military. Maybe he could speak in terms she understood.

"Never invaded us," she murmured. "Oh, no. Of course not. Tell me – do you think they'd just leave us alone? Like the Dominion? The Kel-Morians? Like the zerg they enslaved so they could use them as bloody attack dogs?"

"Yes, them," Jorgensen said. "People who were sent from their homes to fight and die in a war that-"

"Save the boscrap Jorgensen, you know as well as I do that you want them for their tech." Hakim smiled. "Go on. Tell me it hasn't entered your mind. The Protectorate's always stayed afloat due to our technology being better than the Confederates or Kel-Morians, and now, we've got a few hundred Earthers to boost that even further."

Jorgensen frowned. "You want me to take Mengsk's path? Keep hounding the UED remnants? Set an example?"

"Mengsk liberated Korhal from the UED. Mengsk actually stands for something."

"Don't play the game of holier than thou Hakim."

"The game," she whispered. "Least I know how to play it. But in case you didn't notice, the rules have changed. Earth invades. Aliens invade."

"Yes. They have. So tell me, if you're correct about my motivations for taking in Earthers, how that will harm your ambitions?"

Hakim opened her mouth, but fell silent.

"I play the game," Jorgensen said. "I keep the beacon shining, because that's what Umoja stands for. What it's always stood for. What it always will stand for. Taking in soldiers who've surrendered is well in keeping with that. And if we help them, they help us. So yes, I'm taking in those refugees, and yes, I'm keeping us as far apart from the Dominion as possible. And if you have a problem with that, then you can raise it at the next Council meeting." He ran a finger across the desk and up popped a holographic screen. "Now get out. I have a speech to write that has to convey all this in more succinct terms."

Hakim remained silent for a moment. A moment after that, she walked over to the table, finished off the wine, then headed for the suite's exit. The door hissed open, but no footsteps followed through.

"I want you to remember this moment, Jorgensen," she whispered. "A year from now, ten, I want you to remember."

Jorgensen grunted, and didn't give her a second glance as she exited the suite.

A year from the meeting, it was easy to remember. A year on, he was laughing at it.

A decade later, the laughter had long since died.