Meanwhile, in the observation room of the Hyperion's medbay.
Inside the isolation chamber, soft light cascaded from the ceiling, illuminating the transparent observation shield of the sealed pod.
Sarah Kerrigan lay quietly within. Her pale skin appeared nearly translucent under the medbay's cold lighting. The once rampant psionic etchings had completely faded, leaving behind only a few faint scars—silent witnesses to some unspeakable ordeal.
Her breathing was calm but faint, her chest rising so subtly it seemed she was merely lost in an endless dream.
Outside the chamber, Jim Raynor's hands were pressed against the metal frame of the floor-to-ceiling observation window, his knuckles pale from the pressure.
He had removed his signature CMC power armor, now wearing his classic civilian outfit, the collar still stained with sweat from recent battle.
His gaze remained locked on the woman inside the pod, as though looking away for even a second might cause her to vanish again.
Standing beside him, Tychus Findlay rested a thick arm casually across Jim's shoulder, an unlit cigar dangling from his lips—
Open flame was prohibited in the medbay, and it seemed the burly man had, for once, chosen to respect the rules.
"Relax a little, Jimmy."
Tychus's deep voice held its usual irreverence. "Didn't that Egon guy say it already? Your crazy girlfriend's vitals are all fine—she's just in a hard reboot. Heavy coma, he called it."
He grinned, exposing a row of yellowed teeth. "Honestly, if it were anyone else who got possessed by something like Amon, they'd be liquefied by now. But her? Heh, she's the Queen of Blades—tougher than hell to kill."
Jim didn't respond, though his jaw did loosen slightly.
Leon, Mike, and Chris stood further back, having also shed their nanosuits for the standard Investigation Bureau uniforms: black high-collar jackets with silver dragon-crest badges pinned to the chest.
Leon crossed his arms, calmly scanning the medbay's data screen before turning to Jim.
"Commander Raynor," Leon said with polite restraint, professional and composed. "Speaking as a friend, I understand your concern. But as a representative of the Investigation Bureau, I'm also obligated to formally make a request."
Jim finally turned his head, frowning. "What request?"
"When Ms. Kerrigan regains consciousness," Leon said, locking eyes with him, "we'd like her to accompany us back to the Prime Universe—to assist in follow-up research."
Jim's gaze turned instantly cold. His knuckle tapped against the window with a sharp click. "So you want to turn her into a lab rat? How are you any different from the Dominion or Mengsk?!"
"Oh, come on, man."
Mike cut in, his smirk relaxed. "With psionic levels strong enough to crack a planet in half, who's gonna risk slicing her up for study?"
He shrugged. "We just need some basic data—blood samples, psionic wave readings, that kind of thing. Standard protocol."
Chris Redfield, arms folded and broad-chested, added in a firm tone:
"Besides, the final decision doesn't lie with us—or you."
He tilted his chin toward the sealed pod. "It's up to Ms. Kerrigan herself."
"…"
Jim fell silent.
A moment later, his gaze returned to the sealed pod.
Sarah Kerrigan's face, bathed in soft light, was serene—almost as if the madness and torment of the past had never happened.
Jim remembered the rain on Mar Sara, the twisted figure on Char under Amon's control. And now, she was finally back… only to possibly be drawn into another, unfamiliar universe.
"If she agrees," Jim finally said, his voice low and weary, "I'll respect her choice. But until then—"
"—We won't do anything beyond bounds," Leon finished for him, his tone sincere. "That's the Bureau's commitment. And mine. And the Emperor's directive."
"Ha!"
Tychus gave a grunt of laughter, patting Jim's shoulder. "Hear that? Even their golden boss chimed in."
He leaned closer, muttering, "Honestly, Jimmy, if your gal does go to their so-called Prime Universe, she might end up leading their psionic forces. Better than being treated like a freak here."
"…"
Jim didn't respond to the jab. He turned to glance at Leon and the others. "You'd better keep your word."
Shhck—!
At that moment, the medbay's blast door slid open, revealing Egon Stetmann—Tychus had mentioned him earlier—walking in with a data pad in hand.
With his trademark explosion of hair and flashy goggles, the medic pushed up his glasses as he noticed everyone still there. His eyes swept across the room before he said:
"There's a change in status. Ms. Kerrigan's brainwave activity is spiking."
He pointed to a suddenly active waveform graph on the screen. "She might be waking up soon."
At the news, every gaze locked onto the sealed pod.
Jim Raynor's breath hitched slightly, his fingers unconsciously curling tighter.
The air in the medbay seemed to freeze.
Inside the pod, Sarah Kerrigan's eyelashes twitched. Her pale fingers gave a faint, involuntary curl.
The waveform on the monitor shot upward. The alarm had yet to fully sound—
BOOM—!!!
A visible psionic shockwave exploded from the pod like an invisible tsunami, sweeping through the entire medbay.
The ceiling lights burst in sequence, shards raining down—yet disintegrated midair under the force of the energy surge.
The reinforced observation window instantly splintered into spiderweb cracks before shattering, its shards firing like bullets.
Jim Raynor was closest—he had no time to react before the shockwave flung him bodily across the room.
He slammed into the alloy wall several meters away, the air driven from his lungs in a violent burst. Darkness clouded his vision, his ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
He tried to push himself up, but his muscles felt like they'd been flooded with lead—he couldn't even move a finger.
Tychus Findlay's massive body fared no better, crashing into a rack of medical equipment like a ragdoll. The metal frame bent on impact.
"Ugh…"
The bruiser let out a groan, blood dripping from his chin.
"Shit," Tychus cursed hoarsely, one thick arm trembling as he tried to push himself up. "That hit harder than a damn Ultralisk."
Egon fared the worst—
His frail frame flew the entire length of the medbay, crashing into the wall and falling unconscious instantly, a sharp trail of blood oozing from his temple.
And yet, the three Bureau agents displayed almost inhuman resilience.
Leon twisted midair, his broad back absorbing the brunt of the impact.
BAM—!
The bone-jarring sound echoed, but his body rebounded like a spring. He bent his knees and landed steadily, his sharply chiseled face showing no pain—only a deepening frown as he stared toward the pod.
No wonder some of his colleagues jokingly called him "Steelback." The nickname had never been more apt.
Mike's response was even more agile.
Midair, he spun with unnatural grace, the gel-layered soles of his boots sticking to the wall with a soft thud.
Using the force, he landed like a cat, hands even shielding his head from flying glass.
Chris Redfield, as always, went head-on—
He shifted his weight into the shockwave, arms crossed over his chest like a human battering ram.
When he hit the wall, two clear dents were left in the metal. Landing hard, he shook out his numb wrists and muttered:
"Worth every credit of that gene upgrade."
The medbay was in chaos.
Twisted equipment sparked, and spilled fluids pooled into multicolored streams on the floor.
At the center of it all—
The pod's shield had shattered completely, the medical liquid evaporating into a hazy mist.
Sarah Kerrigan had already sat upright. Her disheveled brown hair hung over her shoulders, and her hands gripped the edge of the bed tightly, chest heaving.
Those eyes—
No longer the amber hue of Amon's control, nor the ghostly violet of the Queen of Blades.
They were the vibrant green of her original self.
But now, those emerald irises churned with unspeakable pain and confusion—like a drowning soul gasping from a nightmare without end.
!?
Her pupils contracted. Her gaze swept quickly across the room.
Shattered instruments, twisted frames, bodies strewn on the floor.
Her breath was still rapid, her mind clearly not yet grounded in full consciousness.
And when her eyes landed on Leon, Mike, and Chris, an instinctive hostility surged.
Psionic waves crackled around her, faint blue arcs of energy rising in the air. Medbay equipment began to tremble, on the verge of collapsing under invisible force.
Leon moved instantly.
He raised both hands, palms forward, and made a clear "stand down" gesture.
Mike and Chris stepped back in sync, forming a non-threatening triangle—close enough to protect, far enough not to provoke.
"Easy, Ms. Kerrigan," Leon's tone was calm, like speaking to a startled beast. "No one here is your enemy."
"…"
Kerrigan's fingers trembled. The psionic surge weakened slightly—but the tension remained.
Until—
"Sarah."
A hoarse voice came from the side.
Jim Raynor had managed to prop himself up slightly, blood still fresh on his brow, his expression a complex tangle of emotions.
First relief. Then guilt. And deep concern.
His voice was barely audible, but it pierced her heart like a blade.
"Jim…?"
Her voice was just as hoarse, as if unused for years.
The psionic waves vanished instantly, replaced by fragile disorientation.
Barefoot, she walked straight toward Jim, ignoring the shards of glass on the floor.
The cold metal beneath her feet seemed not to register—or perhaps compared to the storm in her mind, it was nothing at all.
Jim tried to stand, only to wince from the pain in his ribs.
Sarah instinctively reached to steady him. Their fingers touched—his hand trembled visibly.
Staring into her face, Jim asked, "Do you… remember what happened?"
Kerrigan's brows furrowed. A flicker of agony passed through her eyes.
Broken memories surged—Amon's whispers, the Zerg's screams, the tearing of her identity. She clutched her temples, her breathing labored.
"Fragments," she whispered. "Like a nightmare I can't wake from."
Jim swallowed hard, guilt overflowing in his eyes. "I'm sorry… I should've—"
"Don't be stupid, Jim."
She stopped him, placing a hand over his. Her smile was weak, but real. "It's not your fault."
The tension between them softened, even warmed.
"Honestly," Kerrigan quipped, arching a brow, her old sass returning, "after four years, this is how you welcome me back—beaten to hell?"
?
Jim blinked, then chuckled—only to hiss in pain.
"Well, compared to your 'enthusiastic greeting,' I think I'm holding up alright."
Kerrigan was about to reply when a gruff voice interrupted—
"Sweet heaven, could you two save the flirting for later?"
Tychus Findlay climbed up from the ruined equipment rack, slapping glass shards off his clothes.
"My damn bones are falling apart, and I gotta watch you lovebirds get all mushy?"
Grumbling theatrically, he retrieved his flattened cigar from the deck. "You trashed the medbay. Horner's gonna lose his mind."
Jim shook his head helplessly. Kerrigan instinctively wrapped an arm around him to steady him.
"You need to lie down," she ordered firmly. "Your ribs might be fractured."
"Wait…" Jim suddenly remembered. He turned to Leon and the others. "You mentioned—"
Leon gave a small nod, signaling it could wait.
"After everyone's treated," he said, his gaze pausing on Sarah, then returning to Jim. "We have time."
Mike had already picked up the unconscious Egon and was checking him.
"Vitals are stable, but head trauma needs immediate attention," Mike said, looking toward the hatch. "Med bots should be here soon."
Sure enough, the blast doors opened.
Three medical terminators entered, scanning the ruined medbay with red lasers.
One rushed to Egon. The other two moved to treat Jim and Tychus.
Sarah stood still, barefoot on the cold deck, struck by a strange sense of unreality.
Was the nightmare… finally over?
She looked down at her hands—
No psionic markings, no mutated bone spurs. Just ordinary human hands, scarred by time.
Jim noticed her daze and gently clasped her wrist.
"This time," the ranger commander said firmly, "I won't let go."
Sarah didn't speak. She just tightened her grip in return.
The medbay lights flickered again, but in that moment—it truly felt like everything was finally back on track.
(End of Chapter)
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