Some days after their arrival on Tarsonis and their greeting by the renegade Ghost cabal, Jim Raynor went to his science officer Magellan to see what he had for him.
They had been welcomed on the planet with relative cordiality, though Raynor’s men did their best to avoid their hosts, who would always be feared and hated no matter what succor they offered. Though they outnumbered the telepathic assassins five to one, there were no doubts on either side who had the clear edge in any conflict. Thus, though Raynor continually told his men that there was nothing to fear, morale was at an all time low since the death of the Overmind. A matter that was not helped by the fact that they had found this world barren. Of what few Supply Depots remained many had been ruined by nukes, and everyone was quick to suspect the Ghosts of holding out on them – even Raynor, who’d been to their welcoming dinners, couldn’t quite shake that idea. Magellan was trying to create food that had a higher tolerance to radioactive soil, but Raynor rather imagined that whatever the construct came up with would have about as much utility as the rest of his bizarre creatures. He knew that the ugly truth was, they were stuck, and they would starve. Jimmy also couldn’t quite shake the feeling that someone – no matter how unsuccessfully – was trying to lull him into a false sense of security. But he found himself wondering for whom, or for what?
But now was not the time for morbid suspicions, as he had a man to see.
Magellan’s science facility, named rather conceitedly after himself, was much less cluttered in those days, as he had folk to help him – some robots and a couple of wide-eyed young Marines who wanted to better their scientific education. Raynor rather doubted they were learning much except how much shit a horde of mutated animals produces – you wouldn’t catch Magellan risking his cybernetic limbs on that task.
‘And so, that was how humanity learned to split the atom for the first time,’ Magellan was saying to the Marines as Raynor walked in, gesturing at a slide. ‘Ah, greetings, Commander Raynor. Have you come to join us for our nuclear physics lesson?’
‘Not quite, no. Could I see you alone?’
‘Of course.’ The Marines, overwhelmed at the sight of their leader, were already scuttling out. ‘What can I do you for, sir?’
‘I was wondering if you had retrieved any information from the Ghost training centers,’ Raynor said cautiously.
‘Indeed I did! It is interesting, most interesting indeed!’
‘Well, tell me about it then,’ grated Raynor.
‘Well…’ Magellan turned from him and switched on a large computer screen. Some images of brain sections, with annotated captions, sprang into life. ‘I discovered that the primary purpose of the Ghost indoctrination –‘ Raynor noticed he didn’t say training, ‘—is to activate the stimulus psionique in humans. In the Protoss this occupies a whole 45% of the brain, in Zerg Cerebrates and Overlords almost all, but in humans it is limited to the pineal gland.’
‘I see,’ said Raynor, interested despite himself.
‘Now it was found in extensive studies that ESP in general and pineal secretions in particular were closely related to high levels of a brain neurotransmitter called serotonin. Thus, the Confederates would expose the novice Ghosts to massive doses of drugs that would either cause serotonin levels to be artificially high, or which would artificially replicate their effect.’
‘I see,’ said Raynor, a chill creeping over him. So this was what sweet Sarah had been subjected to… No wonder she had such… problems, now and then. ‘What exactly are these drugs?’
‘This is the most interesting part, because these drugs have been outlawed by the Terrans since the early 21st century. Once they were used for recreational or medicinal purposes, but it was decided that their side effects far outweighed their benefits and they were banned.’ Magellan indicated two extremely complicated formulae on the computer screen. ‘These two were by far the most popular, and remained so for the Ghost training program. The first prevents serotonin from being naturally broken down by the brain, and is called Prozac. The second simulates high, chaotic serotonin levels, and is called LSD. There were several variants of these drugs, notably crystal meth and Lustral, but these were the basic ones used.
‘They are extremely easy to synthesize… I took the liberty on experimenting on some lab rats. These two were given massive doses of the drugs, whose dosage was then withdrawn. This one was on Prozac.’ With horror, Raynor observed a white rat which had successfully bit the insides of both its little wrists out and was bleeding to death in the cage. ‘And this one was on LSD.’ The rat was lying on its back staring at the ceiling, with a look of absolute terror on its face.
Raynor choked. ‘My God, Magellan, put them out of their misery!’ he gasped. ‘Have you no feelings?’
‘For lab rats, sir? That would be most illogical.’ However, he complied, injecting each rat from a tiny syringe. Their awful expressions faded, and they slipped into what Raynor hoped was a peaceful death.
‘So this is what Ghosts have to go through,’ Raynor whispered.
‘Yes, though I do recall there was a footnote to the effect that the Ghosts were to be prevented from harming themselves. Perhaps I should have tried it on the rats…’
‘Do me a favour, Magellan? Don’t try anything else on the rats.’
‘Very well, sir. During the early stages of their training the young Ghosts, during puberty -- the most dominant stage for psychic powers -- were to be given a dosage of as much as 180 mg of Prozac per day, with a relative quantity of LSD.’
Raynor drew a deep, shuddering breath. ‘So this is what I have to look forward to,’ he muttered.
‘I beg your pardon sir?’
‘Nothing… nothing at all. Tell me… what else would the Ghost training consist of?’
‘Well, initially there would be intensive subliminal training attempting to channel their psychic powers into avenues desired by the Confederates, such as cloaking and telepathy, and away from avenues they feared could be used against them, such as the psionic storms pioneered by the Protoss Templar and attributed to Kerrigan.’
‘Right,’ muttered Raynor. ‘And what form did this subliminal training take?’
‘Well, the subject was strapped into this chair.’ With a theatrical flourish, which would have impressed P.T. Barnum, Magellan flung aside a cloth. Raynor stared down at it in horror. It was a chair of black metal with straps as wrists and ankles, a gutter underneath the crotch of fairly obvious function, robotic arms with syringes and electrodes, and most disturbing of all, a helmet with small attachments over the eyes looking like clips with small ducts and droppers rising.
‘What were these for?’ said Raynor in mounting horror.
‘These were to hold the subject’s eyes open, sir. The films aren’t very pleasant.’
Raynor backed away from the chair in horror. ‘And what did these films consist of?’
‘I’ll show you, sir.’ Magellan switched on a viewscreen and thoughtfully retired.
Raynor found himself watching 2-D monochrome footage of what seemed to be some sort of primitive encampment. Over it flew a flag which was like an X with arms, and under that flag, pale-haired and complexioned young men shot down in cold blood horribly emaciated human beings, and kicked them backwards into the mass grave they’d been digging for themselves. This cut to color footage of a much more pleasant surrounding, in which a man wiped his hands up his body and disappeared with them. This enabled him to sneak into a princess’s bedroom – but they were back in another monochrome camp, this time under the flag of two primitive agricultural implements crossed, and once again uniformed young men were forcing their emaciated and rag-clad brothers to work, even unto death. Next, it was as though color drawings were moving. A young woman with a white stripe in her brown hair seemed to fly over a massive man clad in brown armor and ripped off his helmet. A bald man in a hovering chair put his hand to his head, and blue waves emanated from it – before him, the armored man threw his head to his hands and collapsed. Then it was another camp, under a flag of a circle now, and this time the uniformed men killed their starving prisoners with long curved swords… then, over the horizon, a massive mushroom cloud of a Nuke appeared. Swordsmen and prisoners alike were extinguished. The scene cut to a hospital room, where doctors were examining patients who already showed the bleeding gums and pallor of radiation sickness, and were burned through their clothes…
Raynor buried his head in his hands.
‘Seen enough, sir?’ said Magellan quietly. He nodded without looking up. ‘I’ve switched it off now.’ Raynor looked up, shaking.
‘They had to sit through that?’ he whispered.
‘Sixteen hours a day, sir.’ said Magellan quietly. ‘And they were exposed to a audio component even during sleep.’
Raynor took the proffered earphone shakily, and plugged it in. It was in a variety of different voices, but most common was a dry, grating one, and frequently in the background there was primitive music so loud and discordant it sounded like white noise.
‘I hear your thoughts… You call yourself my closest friend then you make yourself invisible… We call it the shining… Gotta make way for the homo superior… I’ve got kind of a psychic twinkle… The nuclear missile is targeted with the laser sight on your uniform… Eradication of Earth’s population loves Polaris… When you are cloaked only detectors can see you…’
Raynor shakily handed the earphones back. ‘Thank you, Magellan, I’ve seen enough.’ He muttered. ‘I’m amazed any Ghost actually survived this!’
‘Actually, sir, the vast majority did,’ said the construct. ‘Most, however, ended up with a lack of regard for human life, an innate sense of their own superiority and a love for violence and mass destruction.’
‘Which was precisely the way the Confederates wanted them,’ Raynor muttered.
‘Exactly.’
‘I suppose I’m lucky Sarah ended up as sane as she did… Tell me, wasn’t there ever any training in covert operations, assassination, nuclear weapons?’
‘Oh yes, all that comes later, along with training with more experienced Ghosts in contacting other’s minds, communicating with and influencing them. But the initial conditioning was the most important.’
‘Okay.’
Now Raynor had to make a decision. It was to be the most important decision of his life without a doubt. From what he’d seen here, he knew there was a very good chance he would only survive the training as a cabbage, a shadow of his former self, or an evil, desensitized monster. But he knew, also, that only if he became a Ghost could he become a Dark Templar. And only if he became a Dark Templar could he hope to defeat Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades. And he knew in his heart that he was the only one who could get to her. It was the most vicious of vicious circles.
Raynor drew a deep, shuddering breath.
‘Magellan, I want you to use this information to train me as a Ghost,’
Magellan gasped, and looked as shocked as Raynor had ever or would ever see him, before or since. ‘But why, sir? Why would you possibly do that to yourself?’
Why, indeed?
Raynor had always imagined that he had to keep his plans to himself, but he thought that if anyone would understand, it would be the finest scientific mind of the Dominion. He told Magellan everything that had gone between him and Zeratul and where his conclusions had led him.
When he had finished, the construct was silent.
‘An interesting story, sir,’ he said at last. ‘The logic as regards the psionics of the Ghosts and the Templar is sound, but I’m not convinced of why it has to be you who shoulders the responsibility. Why not get another Ghost to train as a Templar, or simply get a Templar to murder Kerrigan?’
‘Because I’m the only one who can get to her,’ muttered Raynor, feeling increasingly hopeless in the cold light of Magellan’s mechanical logic. ‘I know this because… well I just know it. I was her only friend when she was a girl, and when she was in that Chrysalis, she called out to me in dreams and drew me to Char. I think she’s doing it still,’ he added in an undertone.
‘Hmm,’ said Magellan. ‘You may be right. Still, I can sense certain changes in your metabolism when you speak of Kerrigan. Your pupils dilate, your heartbeat and breathing speed up, minute traces of testosterone and adrenaline become detectable in your sweat. Might it not be too unlikely to suggest that you are… in love with her?’
‘Maybe so, maybe not. Who knows?’ said Raynor, staring deeply at the construct.
The construct held his gaze for a while, then looked away. ‘Certainly not I, sir. Such emotions are not natural to me. However I am concerned that your emotional responses here are clouding your judgement. Try as I might, I can think of no logical reason why you should follow this course of action.’
‘Yeah, well, sometimes we humans just have to go with our emotions, eh?’ said Raynor, smiling weakly.
‘Accepted, sir. I have observed this bizarre trend.’ The construct took a deep breath. ‘However, I wonder if you know exactly what will take place when you submit to the Ghost training?’
‘I think I do,’
‘Once started you will not be permitted to leave, for of course you will not want to continue. You must take all the drugs and the subliminal conditioning. You will have to surrender yourself, body and soul, to me, to use the material on as I see fit.’
‘I understand. I trust your judgement entirely, Magellan.’
‘I’m glad. Unfortunately, though I can train you in the nuclear capabilities of the Ghosts, there is no one else available to train you in the martial arts, assassination techniques, or mind-to-mind telepathy. In theory, the subliminal conditioning should teach you to cloak and telepathist by itself, but much is possible in theory that is less so in practice.’
‘I’m not sure that will be a problem,’ said Raynor cautiously. ‘I’ve already been trained an awful lot by the half-dozen armies I’ve served in. I don’t think the fighting will be a problem. As for the psionics… well, they’ll just have to look after themselves.’
‘Very well, sir. Then all that remains is for you to give me your consent – of your own free will – to begin training you as a Ghost.’
Raynor paused. Could he really go through with this?
He had to. If only to see Sarah again. Whatever she had become.
He drew a deep breath.
‘You have my consent.’ He forced through numb lips.
‘Accepted, sir,’ and suddenly, faster than human eye could follow, Magellan’s robotic limb snapped around Raynor’s wrist with a grip like iron. ‘Remember, sir, I warned you it would be like this.’ He began to drag him irrevocably to the chair.
Filled with horror for what he’d seen there, Raynor could not prevent himself trying an aikido throw to break the grip, but it was ineffectual - Magellan was many times stronger (and heavier) than a human. ‘I knew I would have to surrender to you, but I never imagined it would be like this!’ he gasped, as Magellan dragged him relentlessly towards the dark throne.
‘Your intuition should have told you,’ said the construct calmly, starting to strap him down and affix the clips to his eyelids. ‘You can explain to me the feeling after sitting in the chair…’
Before long, Raynor’s screams were echoing from the science vessel for miles around.
