"Fellow terrans," began his father, his voice booming its pronouncement like that of a stern but magnanimous god. "I come to you in the wake of recent events to issue a call to reason. Let no human deny the perils of our time. While we battle one another, divided by the petty strife of our common history, the tide of a greater conflict is turning against us, threatening to destroy all that we have accomplished."
Valerian watched the faces of the people of Gramercy City around him, feeling slightly in awe of being in so vast a crowd. Until recently, the largest number of people he'd seen gathered in one place had been a dozen or so servants in his grandfather's home on Umoja, which seemed so long ago it was like another life.
Taking refuge on Tyrador VIII had been Valerian's idea—hiding in plain sight in the midst of a populous planet though given the fate of the Confederacy in recent months and this current announcement it looked like their enforced flight was now at an end.
"It is time for us as nations and as individuals to set aside our long-standing feuds and unite," continued the stentorian voice of his father as the image on the screen changed to mighty battlecruisers sweeping majestically over Korhal. "The tides of an unwinnable war are upon us, and we must seek refuge on higher ground, lest we be swept away by the flood."
An image of a Confederate battlecruiser on fire from stem to stern filled the viewer and the crowd cheered, a collective outpouring of decades of repressed anger and frustration.
Valerian's father continued. "The Confederacy is no more: whatever semblance of unity and protection it once provided is a phantom... a memory. With our enemies left unchecked, who will you turn to for protection?"
The montage of images moved on as the cheering continued, the shattered Confederate vessel replaced with juddering shots of what Valerian now knew were a protoss ship and a snapshot of a zerg higher organism drifting in space.
"The devastation wrought by the alien invaders is self-evident. We have seen our homes and communities destroyed by the calculated blows of the protoss. We have seen firsthand our friends and loved ones consumed by the nightmarish zerg. Unprecedented and unimaginable though they may be, these are the signs of our time."
Flashing, violent images of battling Wraiths sped across the screen, though what they were shooting at wasn't clear.
"The time has come, my fellow terrans, to rally to a new banner," demanded his father. "In unity lies strength; already many of the dissident factions have joined us. Out of the many, we shall forge an indivisible whole, capitulating only to a single throne. And from that throne I shall watch over you."
A tingle ran up Valerian's spine, but he couldn't tell whether it was one of relief or dread. His father's words had sounded more like a warning than a promise of protection. The image returned to the soaring spires that were even now being rebuilt on Korhal amid the ashen devastation of the Confederates's spiteful attack. The camera closed on the buildings, finally settling on a huge black flag bearing a symbol that had become familiar lo everyone over the last few years: a red arm holding a whip in its fist, the whip forming a circle around the arm.
The Sons of Korhal.
The camera lingered on the flag as his father delivered his closing words. "From this day forward let no human make war upon any other human: let no terran agency conspire against this new beginning: and let no man consort with alien powers. And to all the enemies of humanity, seek not to bar our way, for we shall win through, no matter the cost."
Static formed a glittering column of white noise as the voice of Arcturus Mengsk faded and was replaced by the unwavering symbol of the Sons of Korhal.
Valerian turned away from the enormous AAI as he heard the familiar snap and sizzle of the halo-projectors firing up to repeat the message once more. Valerian had no need to hear it again: he had memorized the words as soon as he'd heard them.
He turned and made his way along the crowded thoroughfares, pushing against the tide of jubilant people making their way toward the central square. Valerian found a side street he knew, and on it a small coffee house he frequented. The shop was empty when he reached it, and Valerian helped himself to a hot drink, making sure to leave a few credit notes on the scuffed wooden bar.
He took a seat by the window and watched the cheering crowds pass by, their faces alight with joy. Valerian knew that the people here would, for a while, remember this day with golden memories: the day the hated Confederacy was overthrown and replaced with...
Well, no one had been sure until today who would step into the void of authority left by the Confederacy's sudden, shocking demise.
No one except Valerian Mengsk. He had known exactly who it would be.
Today's sectorwide broadcast had only confirmed it. His father had declared himself Emperor Arcturus Mengsk I of the Terran Dominion, but no one was yet sure of the legitimacy of his claim. Valerian had heard some people talk of elections, while others cried out in support of a man who had, until recently, been condemned throughout human space as a terrorist.
Never more was the aphorism about history being written by the victors about to be proven correct.
Destiny dances to my tune...
In the three years since he had heard his father speak those words, Valerian had come to understand his ultimate aim. He'd seen his suspicions turn to certainly as, over and over again, his father had defeated every force the Confederacy sent against him with a combination of guile, brute force, and displays of utter ruthlessness that still had the power to stagger Valerian when he thought of them.
Indeed, the last year had seen a multitude of changes, all of which had come with such unprecedented speed that it was hard to process them with any degree of comprehension.
Humanity's first system shock had come with the news that the worlds of Chau Sara and Mar Sara had been destroyed by a fleet of ships belonging to an alien race known as the protoss.
The second had followed soon after when it became apparent that both worlds had been destroyed to ensure the destruction of a second alien species, a species whose name soon became synonymous with wholesale destruction and parasitic infestation of world after world: the zerg.
Valerian's initial excitement concerning the now indisputable evidence of alien life had been dampened somewhat with the realization that neither the protoss nor the zerg were likely candidates as the builders of the ancient structures—he'd decided they were temples of some sort—that he'd explored on Van Osten's Moon.
The zerg were a vile agglomeration of genetically mutable creatures driven by bloody instinct and an insatiable hunger to devour, while the protoss were a strange, aloof race оf psionic warriors. Though this latter race possessed technology far in advance of and just plain different from that of the terrans, it did not seem likely they were a resurgent branch species of the temple's builders.
The news that humanity was no longer alone was greeted with horror in some quarters, religious ecstasy in others. Some people wanted to greet these new arrivals with open arms and hearty welcomes, while others—savvy to the current zeitgeist—armed themselves for war. This latter group were to be proved the more perceptive.
With the arrival of these alien races, open warfare ignited throughout Confederate space, with local brushfire skirmishes flaring into full-scale revolts. And, of course, Arcturus Mengsk was there to fan the flames.
Refugees fled before the tides of this increasingly ferocious war, and conflicts revved up from terrorist attacks to full-fledged planetary battles throughout the sector. Thousands were dying every day and calamity followed calamity for the Confederates as they lost their grip on their colony worlds one by one.