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SCL Chapter 137: Have I Ever Dreamed of You?
🕑 Added 2025-07-02 00:32:53 +0000 UTCFour days later, Norad II — Shipboard Time: 00:27 Traveling through hyperspace lanes often left those who’d grown up on planets feeling exha
Four days later, Norad II — Shipboard Time: 00:27
Traveling through hyperspace lanes often left those who’d grown up on planets feeling exhausted. Nightmares were a common occurrence. Only people like Harnack or Josephine, thick-skinned and unfazed, could sleep soundly through the journey.
Augustus had once blamed the surreal and grotesque images in his dreams on past memories. But now, he understood—it was simply daytime thoughts bleeding into the night.
“You’ve been having nightmares ever since we left the Dylarian Shipyards,” said Lieutenant Sarah Kerrigan.
She wore the snug, form-fitting deep gray uniform of the Revolutionary Army’s officer corps. The golden wolf of Mengsk embroidered on her belt and epaulettes granted her unrestricted access to the Norad II’s captain’s quarters—without drawing even a scolding glance from Faraday, the Captain’s ever-watchful head guard.
Recently, Kerrigan had taken the time to groom her striking crimson hair with more care. As Augustus’s personal bodyguard, the former Federal Ghost—an agent once feared for her formidable psionic abilities—had usually kept her hair in a practical bob or single ponytail. But today, she’d broken from that image entirely.
Compared to how she’d appeared four months ago, Kerrigan was almost unrecognizable. Her scarlet hair now fell in a cascade all the way to her slender waist.
Two smooth strands, parted at her crown, were braided into thick plaits that circled back and formed a halo-like crown atop her head. The rest of her hair, soft and straight, trembled gently as she dabbed a cotton cloth to wipe the sweat from Augustus’s face.
In the gentle blue glow of the captain’s bedroom, her fiery red hair seemed veiled in gossamer.
There were always voices warning that Augustus placed too much trust in a former Federal assassin—that it would bring disaster. But such rumors, once they reached the ears of the Revolutionary Army’s leader, sank without a ripple.
Soon, other voices rose instead: Augustus Mengsk deeply valued the Ghost’s abilities. He was a leader who entrusted people fully once he chose to use them. There was no need to worry for his safety—he never offered his heart to wolves.
Yet Jürgen Schossenk, a war correspondent from the Korhal Dominion Herald embedded with the fleet, believed things weren’t quite that simple. He preferred to think that even our wise and brilliant leader Augustus Mengsk was still a man of flesh and blood.
After capturing Ghost operative Sarah Kerrigan, Augustus had immediately reassigned the Umojan Shadow Guard who’d previously protected him—sending them to serve his father, Angus Mengsk. In their place, he installed Kerrigan.
If no one could prove that nothing ever happened between the Marshal and his young, beautiful bodyguard—then it must have been true.
“Do you know what I dreamed of?”
Augustus sat up still wearing his military undershirt. To this day, he kept the sleeping habits he’d developed back on Turaxis as a Marine. Clothes, gun, and ammunition were always within arm’s reach. If necessary, he would sleep in full gear—still very much the kind of soldier who could spring up, run, and fire without missing a beat.
But perhaps because he’d just awoken from a nightmare—or because he was aware that a powerful psionic was watching his mind—his cold gray eyes locked onto Kerrigan’s, sharp and unyielding like a true Styrling Gray Wolf.
It didn’t faze Kerrigan in the least. Calmly, she replied, “Same as three days ago. A massive planet turned to a radioactive wasteland. I’m fairly certain it’s Korhal IV. Sometimes there’s nothing but scorched earth... other times, it becomes a vast megacity. A place teeming with people, but none of them are Korhalians.”
“Oh…”
Augustus rubbed his temples as a sharp pain pierced through his head.
“If I do nothing... maybe that’s what Korhal IV was always meant to become. That’s just how I think. You know I have a habit of imagining the worst.”
“No. You’re not that kind of person.”
Kerrigan shook her head, but said nothing more. Then, almost softly: “You never picture me as a villain... or a killer.”
“…I should get up.”
Augustus didn’t press further. As he threw on his jacket, he asked offhandedly, “Have I ever dreamed of you, darling?”
Augustus had made a point never to imagine what the future Queen of Blades might look like—precisely to avoid planting any suspicions in Kerrigan’s mind.
She was a mind-reader after all. And though he had strictly forbidden her from delving into the deeper corners of his consciousness, stray thoughts sometimes slipped through.
Yet given how little Kerrigan seemed to know about his darker past, it was clear that—whether out of respect or trust—she had honored that boundary to the letter.
“You should ask yourself that.”
Kerrigan’s voice trembled, as if startled. For a moment, she forgot herself—forgot that a soldier should never raise her voice to her commanding officer.
“What kind of nonsense are you talking about?”
“Nothing,” Augustus said. “Just that I should get out of bed.”
He studied her face. And rather than seeing anger or offense…
What he saw was the bashful irritation of a sixteen-year-old girl in springtime bloom.
On any other day, Augustus might have found that endearing. But now, with Korhal, his father, and the soldiers still fighting the Federal Army weighing heavily on his mind, most of what he said came out as absent-minded and half-hearted.
As he fastened the last button on his coat, his thoughts were still elsewhere: If Korhal IV still hadn’t transmitted its coordinates and encrypted updates on schedule, the Federal Fleet had probably already reached the Korhal system.
That would be far sooner than expected.
In that case, the Terran Federation had better prepare to be blown to hell.
“You’ve only just gotten four hours of sleep—and before that, you hadn’t closed your eyes for two days and three nights. And you still want to work?”
Kerrigan reached up as if to place his cap on his head, only to be gently brushed aside. It was then that she realized—she wasn’t his personal maid.
Augustus had never needed servants. Though he’d never openly said so, Kerrigan knew he held no fondness for the aristocratic system that had given him both his status and his power. In that regard, he was no different from his father and elder brother.
“You should sleep a little longer,” Kerrigan told him. “The bridge just informed me we still have two hours before the fleet exits hyperspace and reaches the Tarsonis system.”
“Then all the more reason not to sleep.”
His eyes opened wide, his voice immediate: “My soldiers need me.”
“But your health assistant shows you're severely fatigued. And I can feel it too—your mind’s out of balance.”
Kerrigan gripped his wrist.
“You’re grieving. You’re not as unshakable as everyone thinks.”
“I won’t fall.”
He was fixing his appearance in the mirror as he spoke.
“Not ever.”
Whatever Kerrigan had been about to say was lost. The resolve in his expression was too much. She gave in.
“I know what you’re going to say…”
She sighed and rubbed her forehead.
“I’m not your mother, right? Would you still say this if Lady Katharine were standing here instead?”
“That’s a false dilemma,” Augustus replied with a dry chuckle, as effortlessly sharp as ever.
“She’d never be here. And I’d never allow it to happen.”
But even as he said it, his heart grew heavier.
He couldn’t help but worry about his mother and sister.
A week ago, a large transfer of funds had arrived in Augustus’s account at the National Bank of Umoja. Along with it came word that his brother, Arcturus Mengsk, had arrived at the Pasteur Estate in Umoja—and had already met with Juliana and his son. The report had reached the Hyperion as well.
It had been nearly a month since that message was sent, and Augustus had no way of knowing whether Arcturus had managed to reconcile with Juliana—or if he’d simply spent a week and change before retreating back to the comfort of his mining enclave.
There was no way to know.
From the letters Arcturus had sent—written with apparent sincerity, though in truth saturated with complaints—Augustus gathered that his brother was less than impressed with his young nephew.
Still, since Augustus had personally taught Valerian what it meant to be a true Mengsk man, and because the boy hadn’t let up in his rigorous training even after his uncle’s departure—devoting himself to swordsmanship and physical discipline—it seemed unlikely that Arcturus would, as he had in the original timeline, outright dismiss his son as a sissy or a bookworm.
True, Arcturus had used plenty of language to describe Valerian as lacking the brilliance and resilience Augustus had shown in his youth. He grumbled that their mother, sister, and Juliana had dressed the boy up like a little princess. But even that had helped mend some of the distance that had grown between father and son over the years.
With Katharine present, Arcturus could at least feel some warmth of family. His anger toward Juliana for keeping Valerian hidden from him had lessened—if only slightly. More than that, Augustus simply hoped his brother could finally settle down, build a home of his own—or, at the very least, forge a real bond with his son.
Because a family missing even one member always feels fractured.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought them up,” Kerrigan said softly, guilt heavy in her voice.
“I know. You said it because you care,” Augustus replied, offering her a light smile.
“You’re a telepath. You know what I’m thinking—and you feel it too.”
