On Moria, people's tastes, philosophies, and aesthetics remained stuck two centuries in the past. Their plain buildings were simple in appearance, with almost no superfluous ornate decoration.
For a long time, Moria's architecture had striven upward, seeking to break free from the fetters of gravity. The domed and geometric styles of the early colonial era had gradually been abandoned. In Jacob, the spired structures made of four arcing segments climbed ever higher, ever grander without pause.
In the eyes of Augustus and the other outsiders, the spires of these Morian skyscrapers seemed like sharp swords or overlapping sails. The exhaust and dust of massive industry shrouded the entire city in a white haze, and residents of the upper levels generally had to wear breathing aids to avoid inhaling the dust into their lungs.
"Welcome to Moria, Marshal Mengsk. I believe you will soon come to like it here." Seated in the front passenger seat, the Kel-Morian diplomat said, "Jacob cannot match the prosperity of Tarsonis, yet it has its own qualities worth praise."
"This is the very center of the Combine's industry. Metal and refined vespene flow beneath the ground like blood, and those towers and factories are the heart and veins."
At last, the car, its engine humming softly like a bee, hovered to a stop at the top of a black main tower more magnificent than Tyrador Sky Tower in the Tygore district of Tarsonis's capital. Passing through an energy shield like a spread curtain of light, it entered the docking platform.
As soon as the vehicle came to a halt, beret-wearing guards and guild managers of the directors hurried forward to welcome Augustus. Hundreds of people surrounded him, yet among them there were no media reporters.
Just as Augustus had anticipated, although he did not mind appearing publicly on Moria, turning this meeting into a formal diplomatic event and a summit between the leaders of two regimes, clearly the rulers of the Combine had no intention of recklessly provoking the Terran Confederacy—already harried by incessant uprisings—barely a year after the Guild Wars.
Even if rational political analysts all believed the Terran Confederacy would not launch a second Guild War, no one dared guarantee it. The Federal Parliament, which under public pressure had once directly annihilated Korhal IV, would hardly tolerate the Kel-Morian Combine entangling itself with the Revolutionary Army. Even the Umojan United Republic, which had long been vigorously supporting the Korhal rebels, dared not go so far.
Somewhat comically, the petite Sarah Kerrigan still thrust her chest forward to block in front of Augustus, while Corporal Faraday, in his wide-brimmed military cap, busied himself standing at the Marshal's side, one hand resting on the pistol at his waist.
When they were led into the top-floor conference room by suit-clad managers and armed guards, Augustus's subordinates were required to surrender their weapons for safekeeping, though the generals were permitted to carry their sidearms.
Augustus and his many guides took the lift from the docking platform into the interior of the colossal spire known as the Summit of the Combine. Entering the hall with its relief-carved dome, he immediately turned his head at the opulent decorations and splendid carvings within—gold and silver vessels and Umojan luxury goods adorned this hall of utmost extravagance.
The entire hall was imposing and magnificent, with polished marble walls and square stone columns hundreds of meters high inlaid with rose-colored and azure gemstones mined from beneath Moria. Twelve colossal statues of Kel-Morian ancestors stood motionless in solemn silence. These towering figures wore armor and crested helmets, both hands resting on massive greatswords, pure white wings spread behind them.
On the dome overhead stretched a vast painting depicting mythological scenes from the Bible, showing both white angels and black demons. It should have been the work of some master artist, yet his name was unknown.
This grand and splendid sight almost made Augustus feel as if he were inside a cathedral, but he had never heard of the Kel-Morians holding firm Christian beliefs.
"It is said that after the Four-Year War ended, the Kel-Morian Combine's economy was already on the brink of collapse. The lower classes were starving. Moria's food supply long depended on imports from several nearby colony worlds. Starving workers lay scattered worse than the sand and stone of the Jacob Gorge," Kerrigan whispered as they walked across the hall. "But here—"
"Moria produces no bread. Here there is only endless sand and more ore than can ever be used. The food shortage is entirely because the Terran Confederacy monopolized our few agricultural worlds," the Kel-Morian diplomat who had followed Augustus all along said. "We will hollow out Moria's mineral veins within centuries, but these cannot be traded for food."
"The people who starved to death because of this—all those deaths should be counted on the Terran Confederacy. It was the Terrans who seized that grain," he explained.
"Then why did you not use reserve grain to aid those about to starve?" Ever since joining the Revolutionary Army, under the influence of revolutionary thought, Kerrigan had begun to view the Kel-Morian system from a perspective bordering on grand ideals.
"After the war ended, the government could not repay the national debt issued to wage it. Unrestrained printing of currency led to terrifying inflation and soaring prices. While people stood in lines to buy rationed bread, food factories were destroying meat and milk on a massive scale."
"Those are all rumors," the diplomat reminded, pushing up the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"The people of the guilds will not want you discussing such nonexistent matters on Moria. The Combine's economy could never collapse. Even if the Terran Confederacy were to perish, it still could not."
As the diplomat spoke, Augustus, surrounded by a crowd, passed through the hall and into the corridor leading to the conference chamber. Many gathered around him, guiding his way, their numbers so great it was as if they sought to sweep the dust from the path before him.
But gradually, Augustus was already walking at the very front, while the others unconsciously followed behind him.
The conference room doors were tall and massive. More than a dozen forms of identity verification and warning systems showed how heavily guarded this place was. Before entering, the entourage repeatedly ran fingerprint and genetic scans to confirm Augustus was indeed himself.
When the heavy doors opened, the luxurious layout within did not surprise Augustus. Along the long oval conference table sat over a dozen chief executives of Moria's guilds, dressed in black and blue suits—executives who might be empty figureheads, or perhaps one among the handful of elites ruling over 4 billion Morians.
Jacob and the cities of Moria seemed as if forged from bronze. There was no water here, nor any trace of greenery. Yet on the walls of this conference hall stood enormous glass tanks, filled with strange aquatic plants, corals, and ornamental fish that could never exist on Moria. The scales of these exotic fish gleamed with rainbow colors, shining beautifully under the hall's blended pale yellow lighting.
On the conference table were laid exquisite crafts and rare treasures from alien worlds. Delicately prepared pastries and tea were thoughtfully placed within easy reach of every participant.
Even without those aquarium-like tanks, the luxuries alone were worth millions of Kel-Morian notes.
Augustus believed that the elites of the Kel-Morian guild corporations lived lives little different from the nobility of the Terran Confederacy.
Some of the chief executives in their tailored suits were reading the documents before them, others impatiently checking their watches again and again, but regardless, when Augustus appeared, every one of them put on the same formulaic smile.
"Augustus Mengsk, the people of the Terran Confederacy call you a filthy, matted stray dog," the Chief CEO of the Kelanis Shipping Guild stood and shook Augustus's hand.
"But as I see it, the Wolf of the Mengsk family is in truth a mighty Wolf Lord."
"You accomplished feats that our guild guards could never achieve. In Moria, countless people grit their teeth at the very sound of the Terran Confederacy Alpha Squadron. If you know the character of their commander, Edmund Duke, then you understand—he is a butcher through and through, a mad genocidal killer. The Kel-Morians who died at Duke's hands are beyond counting."
"What a nightmare," Augustus said, meeting the Kel-Morian's brown eyes, recalling those Kel-Morians who had died by his own hand in the Guild Wars.
"I have always believed humanity in the Koprulu Sector should not continue such endless infighting. We should conclude a treaty and pursue mutual benefit through trade." Augustus clasped the other's hand tightly as he spoke.
"Speaking of trade, that is far more complicated—one careless step and it can turn into a dreadful disaster." The CEO of the Kelanis Shipping Guild showed a meaningful smile. "None of us wish for such a thing, but the Terran Confederacy has gone far too far."
"At least in hating the Terran Confederacy and wanting to destroy it, we stand on the same front," Augustus said.
"I deeply regret the destruction of Korhal IV," the CEO of the Kelanis Shipping Guild said. "When I was young, I once went there as a foreign exchange student at Korhal University. Who could have imagined that verdant, beautiful world would become a dead, irradiated wasteland?"
"The Confederacy Navy also dropped nuclear bombs on our planets before, but they were all medium and small tactical nuclear bombs." His voice was filled with regret and sorrow, and Augustus only hoped half of it was true.
"Because they knew that using nuclear weapons to annihilate a populous core world would surely bring retaliation at any cost. More often, you must have a fearsome sword in your hand—even if you never swing it."
"Please sit, Mr. Mengsk. I believe you, like Angus Mengsk, are great—both pioneers of revolution," the CEO said as he invited Augustus to sit.
"I am not great, not even a thousandth the man my noble father was," Augustus said. "More precisely, I am much more pragmatic."
"I heard you are in need of help?" As he sat down with Augustus, the CEO of the Kelanis Shipping Guild asked. He had long known the purpose of Augustus's visit to Moria. Clearly this was a deliberate question, meant to seize the initiative at the negotiating table.
"If you are willing to sell your Ripper power armor and Heavy Tanks at market price, then that could indeed be called help." Augustus knew exactly what calculations these shrewd businessmen were making.
"The Revolutionary Army seeks cooperation. What we aim for is cooperation that can satisfy both sides."
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