"Commander, do you mean—" Matt had already guessed it.
"Planet Haven," Raynor said the name.
"An Earth-like planet right on the edge of Protoss space.
I saw the data on it in some old files.
High ecological rating, full atmosphere, liquid water, a stable ecosystem, and almost no signs of industrial development.
In theory, it can support tens of thousands or even more people for the long haul."
"But that place is right next to the Protoss!" Tychus's voice blared through the comms, packed with blunt disapproval.
"Jimmy, are you nuts? Those blueberry boys aren't gonna invite us to tea just 'cause we're hauling a bunch of refugees! They look at us the same way we look at bugs on the ground!"
"Precisely because it's close to Protoss space, the Swarm might think twice before making a move," Raynor analyzed calmly.
"This is the only spot we can find right now that actually gives us a shot at dodging the main Swarm while providing basic survival conditions."
"What about the Protoss themselves?" Dr.Hanson chipped in, looking worried sick.
"Commander Raynor, what we know about Protoss biology and sociology is incredibly slim.
But the common consensus is that they have absolute zero tolerance for any form of 'contamination'—especially the Zerg and its offshoots.
Their way of purging things is usually thorough and absolute." She paused, her voice dropping lower.
"If—and I'm just saying if—there are still undetected infected hiding among our refugees, or even just a tiny trace of Zerg spores...once the Protoss scan it, based on historical records and sketchy intel, their standard response will probably be—"
"Burn the entire planet down," Valerie cut in flatly, stating a cold hard fact.
She had seen descriptions of Protoss "purification" protocols in some files provided by Osiris, and it was nothing like a human military strike.
The briefing room plunged into a deeper silence once more.
Heading to Haven could mean dragging thousands of survivors straight into another potential, far more efficient meat grinder.
"I know the risks," Raynor's voice was low and firm, his eyes sweeping across everyone in the room.
"If we stay here, we start starving to death in five days, or we get wiped out by the Swarm if they catch up.
Go to other human colonies, and we're practically guaranteed to slam into the Zerg or get locked out by the Dominion.
Haven is the only choice that makes sense on paper right now.
As for the Protoss—" He took a deep breath.
"I've dealt with them a bit before.
They aren't completely unreasonable.
Their highest code, the Dae'uhl, emphasizes protection and preservation, though it involves a bit of...judgment call.
If we reach out first, break down the situation, and prove we mean no harm and aren't hauling any uncontrollable infection risk—maybe there's room to talk."
"You're counting on talking sense into guys who think they're gods?" Tychus scoffed over the channel.
"It beats sitting around waiting to die," Raynor said flatly.
"We need a landing spot, somewhere these folks can catch their breath, patch up their wounds, and get some real food.
Haven is the only option.
Matt, lock in the course, target the Haven system.
Tell the whole fleet to mask up and prep for silent running.
We keep it as low-profile as possible."
"Got it," Matt started punching commands into the navigation system.
"Dr.Hanson," Raynor turned to the scientist.
"I need you and your people to use every piece of gear we've got to run the tightest, multi-layered bio-screenings on all the refugees.
Especially the ones with a history of direct contact or open wounds.
We have to do everything we can to make damn sure we don't bring any 'trouble' to Haven.
That's the only shot we have at a negotiation."
"I'll do my best, but gear is tight, and some deep-seated infections or incubation periods—" Dr.Hanson looked strained.
"Just do what you can," Raynor nodded, then looked at Valerie.
"Miss Valerie, can your corporate gear and tech help out with more precise scans? Everyone's life is on the line here."
Valerie nodded slightly.
"I can coordinate some resources to run backup deep bio-signal scans.
But again, no promises on a hundred percent accuracy." She knew damn well that Osiris's tech went way beyond this, but she couldn't show her hand now.
"Good enough.
We just need to show maximum sincerity and effort." Raynor stood up, wrapping up the meeting.
"Alright folks, we've got no backup plan.
Haven is our only hope.
Dismissed, get to your stations."
---
Everyone left carrying a heavy weight.
Walking down the corridor, Valerie's data pad picked up the regular pulse signal from the Eternal Seeker—everything was nominal.
Osiris was still quietly watching.
And they, hauling a bunch of struggling refugees, were sailing right toward a border world guarded by a proud and powerful alien race, with no idea what lay ahead.
The Hyperion's engines let out a low rumble as it adjusted its heading.
Outside the bridge viewports, Meinhoff—a planet gradually rotting away under purple blotches—slowly rotated before being dumped into the darkness behind them.
The trip to Haven was expected to take forty-eight standard hours.
This journey wasn't exactly long, but for everyone in the fleet, it felt like trekking across a blade's edge.
Conditions in the temporary shelters kept getting worse.
Even though Dr.Hanson and the medical crew worked themselves to the bone, the lack of meds meant a lot of the wounded started taking a turn for the worse.
Infection, fever, sepsis—the grim reaper harvested lives in a slower, more torturous way inside this cramped metal space.
Every day, body bags were quietly hauled out and dumped into the ship's small matter recycler—a standard way to handle remains during space travel, but it felt incredibly cold and frequent right now.
The extreme food shortage triggered deeper anxiety.
The distribution points, which had a bit of order at first, started seeing shoving matches and shouting.
The Raiders had to deploy more hands to keep the peace, but the soldiers themselves were just as starved.
The high-energy nutrition bars gave them basic calories, but they couldn't provide a full stomach or peace of mind, especially for civilians who had just been through massive trauma.
The hollow faces and dull eyes of the kids cut deep into anyone with a shred of conscience left.
Valerie walked through the crowds, her "security operators" scattered across key spots to keep a basic lid on things.
She observed everything calmly, taking detailed notes on supply burn rates, health indices, and group mood swings—data that was valuable for both her own mission and Osiris's observations.
She saw a mother quietly slip most of a nutrition bar to her coughing kid, only licking the inside of the wrapper herself.
She saw a militiaman who had lost his hand try to end his own life with bandages late at night out of pure agony and despair, only to be stopped just in time by his buddies.
Despair spread through the crowd like a silent plague, and it was every bit as hazardous as the biological infection back on Meinhoff.