"I killed her."

VARTANIL WAS SURPRISINGLY GOOD COMPANY. Rosemary hadn't been at all sure about him when he chose to stay with her. He was young and very eager, and usually that particular combination annoyed the hell out of her. She suspected she disliked it so intensely because it was usually the young and eager who were the first to die in any combat situation, and that kind of waste pissed her off. But Vartanil had the fact that he was a protoss going for him, and that mitigated his zeal somewhat.

Besides, stuck in her "quarters," there was really nothing else for her to do. So they talked.

Vartanil was scrupulous about reading her thoughts only when invited to do so. She'd felt him catch himself frequently at first, and she supposed that was to be expected. After all, it would be like her trying to have a conversation by writing when the tendency would be to speak. But he quickly got the hang of it, and recently hadn't mentally trespassed at all.

His life, as he'd indicated earlier, had been an uneventful and rather happy one until the coming of the zerg. Rosemary found herself smiling wistfully at his description of a family unit and a craftsman's trade. It had been a long, long time since she'd glimpsed that kind of peace. She supposed that was why she'd been so susceptible to the drugs—they gave her tranquility of a sort, even if it was a dearly-bought, short-lived lie.

When the conversation turned to her, she demurred. "Let's put it this way. Things were rough on me when I was younger, so as soon as I could, I made them rough on others."

He cocked his head, confused. Damn, she was starting to read their body language.

"You did not harm innocents though." He stated this so firmly she felt a twinge of guilt—another thing she hadn't felt in a long time.

"Sometimes I did. It was just—I did what I needed to to do the job." She shrugged her slender shoulders. It had always sounded logical. But now it sounded... well... wrong.

"I see." He didn't of course. And yet, he chose to stay with her. He chose to focus on the strength of will it had taken for her to kickthe Sundrop. He chose to focus on how she had helped Jake, rather than how she had been happily willing to turn him over for a handful of credits. Okay, more than a handful, never let it be said that Rosemary Dahl could be bought cheaply. But she sure as hell could be bought.

Jake was a lot like these guys. More than he realized. Rosemary didn't think she and Zamara would have gotten three steps if Zamara had entered her brain. The clash of natures would have made her head explode. That line of thinking, of course, made her remember that Jake was in reality going through something similar and not at all wryly humorous, and that soured her temper even more.

So it was that when Selendis entered, Rosemary snapped at her, "What the hell do you want? Come back to interrogate me some more?"

Selendis didn't bat an eye. "No," she said. "I have come to inform you that Hierarch Artanis is willing to grant you an audience."

Crap. Rosemary wondered how many times she'd stick her boot in her mouth with these people, and if she'd ever get used to the metaphoric taste.

"Oh. That's great. Uh, thank you for your efforts on my behalf." The words felt unnatural, but the feeling behind them was heartfelt. She was grateful.

Selendis inclined her head. It was then that Rosemary realized that the executor was clad more elaborately than the terran had ever seen her. Her armor, always meticulous, now seemed to gleam even brighter. Beneath the armor, she wore a flowing robe of dark blue inlaid with tiny gems, probably khaydarin crystal fragments if Rosemary had to guess. The fabric was thick and almost cried out to be touched, so heavy and lush was it. The overall effect was that Selendis appeared to be draped in the night sky, with her almost-radiant golden armor a bright sun. Atop her head she wore a jeweled band to hold back her nerve cords.

"You look great," Rosemary said. She glanced down at her own body. They'd given her robes of a sort to wear as well, and had cleaned and mended the familiar leather outfit Rosemary had spentwhat felt like half her life in.

"If you so desire, I can arrange for more formal robes to be brought to you," Selendis said, watching Rosemary's eyes as they examined first the protoss and then the folded clothing on the bed. "You will no doubt wish to present yourself properly to the Hierarchy."

"Wait—I thought I was going to see Artanis."

Selendis made a quick movement—a slight twist of the head and a shrug of the shoulders, and Rosemary recognized it as a sign of slight irritation. "I had assumed that the audience would be private as well. But I was mistaken. With so much potentially at stake, all the representatives from the various tribal bloodlines wished to evaluate the situation and decide on the solution."

"Oh that's just great. Now I get to deal with a committee of protoss." Selendis regarded her steadily and Rosemary sighed. "Well, let's get this party started."

"Do you wish more formal robes to be brought to you?"

Again Rosemary looked at the leather outfit. Sure, Selendis looked great in the night-sky robe with her perfectly polished armor. Rosemary had no doubt that she, too, would look stunning in such a dress. There had been times when she would have dressed well for a meeting. Rosemary was a mercenary, and she used all tools in her arsenal, including her body if she had to. But she knew that a female human body, attractive though it might be by her standards, wouldn't matter at all to a bunch of protoss. And in the end, that leather outfit represented the essence of who she was far better than any borrowed and tailored robe. She wasn't a protoss. She was a human female with a very dubious past. They knew that already. They knew everything already.

She thought about that time, seemingly ages ago, when she'd walked into her room at Ethan's compound wearing nothing but a robe to find Jake waiting for her. Jake was convinced Ethan was planning to betray them. And of course, he'd been right. She'd chosen the comfortable, somewhat battered leather uniform over asundress then. She would choose it over an exquisite protoss robe now. Much had happened between that decision and this one, but some things hadn't changed. Would never change.

She turned to face Selendis. "No thanks. I've got my familiar clothes here. That's who I am."

Rosemary felt a brush of admiration—reluctant, but real—touch her mind. She'd just risen a notch in the executor's esteem. An infinitesimal one, but a notch all the same.

As the two protoss left so she could dress in privacy, Rosemary thought she'd need every notch she could get.

A few moments later, Rosemary, clad in the supple leather that fit like a second skin, strode between two tall templar guards. They towered over her by more than half a meter, and they were dressed in no-non-sense armor.

"All this for little old me," she murmured to Vartanil.

"Do not flatter yourself, Rosemary," Selendis said, not even bothering to turn her head. She strode a few paces in front of Rosemary. "It is standard etiquette for a meeting of the Hierarchy."

"Whatever." They strode down a corridor, Rosemary hastening to keep up with the long-legged strides of her templar guards— whoops, it's etiquette, "escorts "—and up a ramp that led to a large oval door. It irised open to reveal a flight pad of sorts atop the building where Rosemary had been kept prisoner—whoops again, "guest." A small ship awaited them. Rosemary raised an eyebrow. Dark templar technology, it had to be. Protoss technology for sure— nothing humans made was so pretty, and while she didn't know much about what the zerg did, she was willing to bet it wasn't aesthetically pleasing—but there were no blues or golds here, just dark hues and a soft green glow. Perhaps the constant twilight hue of the planet made it seem darker than it was, but it was definitely a craft that had been made by a people who spent time in the shadows.