STARCRAFT – WAR STORIES
by Maru Tamehana (First Draft, 5/4/2019)
(19/4/2019)
Chapter One The Warp Rift
A warp opened in space.
It crawled out of the warp rift, its new and artificial eyes, inset gem-like by the elusive artificers that mastered the library Forge's craft-devices, scanning the sky for its foes like a spider. Its hard diamond facets scarred with acid, it sank to its floundering belly, its sensors ceasing their eternal vigilant spinning in death.
The Guardians, so-called defensive organisms of the Zerg, continued their vigilant path overhead, crawling across the sky. But its companion escaped the feral eyes of the Swarm. Another Zerg world knew the first step of a protoss. The Zerg had claimed so many of their ancient worlds and colonies, so many defenseless worlds that fell before their seemingly limitless ranks.
The terrans too, benighted, but stubborn and hardy, fought for their independence under the shadow of this great power that had thrown itself against even the might of Aiur. Victoriously, it would seem.
(*)
The human, a simple civilian, spit as they set up the recon tower in the gorge.
"Hoping to pick up some zerg movements with this puppy. Then we'll just napalm them in the canyons, watch 'em burn."
A number of marines had already disembarked the transports, their faces hidden behind forbidding visors. They had cleared out the brush and some assorted, stubborn wild-life with gunfire. The supply trains would be following up shortly, dropping out of orbit.
Two tanks held position on the higher plateau, deploying a scan mount to try and get some extra range, until they could get some proper reconnaissance in place. Command had promised at least two wraith wings to give them an aerial scout of the area, but Command had a habit of falling through on its promises on worlds with zerg infestation.
"We've got unconfirmed zerg reports in the area, but we should be able to flush them out, establish a fortified outpost here, and then start moving forces in towards those hives that are supposed to be on this continent somewhere."
The two operatives stood by the motion tracker towers, checking the diagnostics with their pads. Standard field prep, they'd be relying on these signal reports while they were in the valley, with possible zerg around. It was a dangerous sport as it was, let alone without proper communication.
"You don't "fight" the Zerg, you kill them or they kill you first."
"If we can get them with the napalm, that'll solve our problems before they start. Then we'll send in the crews for mop-up, get some com-sweeps, clear everything out, make sure the place is rehabitable again."
"We bringing a colony in?"
"No, just making sure the Zerg don't."
The zerg would discover them in hours.
Chapter Two Recruit & Rim
He loaded up his equipment, rifle and gears, he was bound on the marine transport out to his posted battlecruiser, a patrol in the mid-seventies sector.
Joining the larger ship with his fellow marines, he did not yet know what mysteries he would encounter. The darkness of space held a vast tract of unexplored land even in these times.
Slamming the metal locker shut, he didn't bother to remove the stamps and pictures. Whoever was next to claim the locker was welcome to them.
(*)
A wraith pilot escorted the ship, checking in with the transport crew by radio, back and forth.
"I'll scout ahead, make sure the way is clear," the wraith pilot radioed in, and firing his aft-thrusters, moving off into the circular orbit of the gas giant.
(*)
The alarms blared red, and he got up. They were being attacked on the rim.
Slinging his naked rated gauss rifle (for so it was called, being stripped of a power-suit), he went into action alert, making instantly for battle stations.
He just didn't realise this was no ordinary battle alert.
The first thing the men in the scanning hold noticed on the sensors were large spidery appendages closing over the sensor views, shortly before they malfunctioned unexpectedly. They should have known, and yet it took them by surprise. It was discovered later that it had taken them several minutes to sound the alarm, although their gutted corpses were in no position to appreciate their mistake.
Half the external cameras were crushed out, one at a time, it seemed, and the rest could only catch a vague glimpse of the vast bulk that moved on the transport, so the automatic recorder would show.
They blew in through the hold, and the air went sucking out into space as they crawled in.
He tugged on the gloves and activated the security door, clad in a spend-thrift environment suit. He entered into a scene of chaos. The marines on station were firing wildly, at the walls, at the breaches, there were shifting, crawling shapes en masse. He quickly took up a secure firing position, within a few easily forgotten moments, and concentrated fire on the most threatening looking spots, not even able to see what exactly it was he was firing at.
Marines went down one by one, but there were enough of them. Several of them were in power-suits, even in the tight quarters, and one of them were hardened enough to detonate a grenade in his hand, as he went under flailing alien limbs, blowing them clean away.
The detonation left scorches on the walls.
They all backed up, firing explosive rounds, tearing away the walls and plating, and backed up into the corridors, trying to bottle them up. There were less than it seemed, but in the low lighting, and the tenacity of the enemy, it was like fighting an army.
He butted away a tentacle and blasted it through, clean as a knife.
(*)
The sun burned bright and hot. The temperature on those carapaces must be over several thousand degrees, but they didn't seem affected at all.
It was only by the sheer grace that explosion had occurred on the dark side of the ship, and all the air had vacuated before it turned into the sun. Now there was a pure plasma torch firing into the deck as a pure stream of light. It almost looked harmless, but his spacesuit would melt in less than seconds if he touched it. It'd be like touching an electric power-fence.
The zerglings didn't seem to like it though.
Buying him a few precious moments to think.
He was familiar with them enough now to recognise them.
"I can't get an angle inside." The wraith pilot radioed from outside. He had returned swiftly and shredded the alien transport into mince-meat, and even picked off several attacking organisms on the hull with elite expertise, but many of the zerg troops had already boarded the breach, and he could not fire without risking damage to the ship and crew itself.
Although he knew it was standard flight procedure, he could help but curse the timing that led him to abandon his escort just as the zerg chose to prey on their transport.
He suspected it was not by accident. Command should have sent two wraiths.
Several of the crew had survived, but far too few. If it hadn't been for the quick alert of the marines, the transport would have been swiftly destroyed and left to tumble into the gas giant.
He picked up a flamethrower off the rack. It was dangerous in an explosive oxygen environment, but he was out-numbered five-to-one by the little death terrors.
By chance or ambush, the Zerg were out here.
(*)
He moved into the cargo containment, to see what else had been breached. As long as those suckers hadn't deposited any larvae, they should be fine for recovery. The zerg troops had finally got down under a concentrated flush-out and hunt, the marine troop converging all their weapons, utilising the inner scanners to track movement and pull them into an ambush.
The zerg were unnaturally canny, but they hadn't escaped this time. Fortunately, they were so intent on their human prey, that they hadn't sabotaged the engines or life support, without which, the human occupants could not have survived.
He did a clean sweep. No zerg signatures were present, and he felt that feeling of satisfaction, instead of relief. You felt relief when you could put down your weapon, you felt satisfied when your weapon was doing its job.
He had a look at what they were transporting, some sort of secret experiment of Mengsk'. He saw them, men floating in what appeared to be stasis tubes, but he didn't recognise the colour of the liquid. It almost looked like the liquified neural tissue enhancements they fed you in the marine training academy. A sort of knock-off chemical enhancement that didn't pass the grade for ghosts, part of the acclimation training. Like giving grunts cheap booze, he gruntled.
Another military transport arrived within a few hours, and they left the useless hulk behind to burn up in the gas giant's sulfurous atmosphere.
(*)
"We thought it was one of their overlord mind-bugs, but it doesn't match the configuration. Looks like a new strain. We spotted several more out past the sun, apparently hiding themselves with the solar flares. We're not sure how they're surviving the exposure, but over the course of several days, we saw at least two move off."
"Are they anything like the queens?"
"Maybe, but again, doesn't match the exact profile. Our best scientists are working on it. But I'm not sending any scientific expeditions into the area, until we've hunted these things down with wraiths, and gotten eye-to-eye confirmation after blasting them out of our skies. I don't like hidden bogeys, and I don't like uninvited guests to our provincial territories."
"Be good exercise for my boys. I'll send a wing for round-up, seeing if the zerg are trying to bait some kind of trap, or something worse going on."
"We have civilian colonies in the sector, gentlemen, you can bet it's worse."
Chapter Three Prometheus
On a forgotten world, a space platform was being contructed, to
enable the lifting off of Mengsk' secret project. After his own capital ship,
the Hyperion, had been stolen from him by the notorious pirate and ex-Captain,
Jim Raynor, he had been seeking a suitable project to solidify his image
under his new rule. He commissioned a new battlecruiser flagship
to exceed the previous. The Prometheus. To signify a
new beginning to human supremacy.
The secret project was taking place on a remote world that hadn't
existed in the database until now. Nimbus V.
But the Zerg had no need of records, of databases – they arrived.
He slammed his foot into the comm interlink. The signal was getting fuzzy, and this was not the time. Reports of zerg incendiary options were filtering into the bandwaves. Already two military outposts had been destroyed, found out and scoured from their asteroid and moon basings as the zerg brood flooded into the planetary system.
"We might not have enough time. Scramble the fighters – we need to buy the Prometheus enough time to lose its moorings and get into warp position."
"Kerrigan." It was a strange echoing sound, Mengsk' voice – but they knew it to be prophetic. It looked right. Kerrigan had indeed returned, and found out one of his secret basings. It seemed she wasn't letting any stone go unturned.
(*)
"They have some history," the marine grunted, hearing the intercom warning.
"Wha' kind of history could Mengsk have wi' the Zerg?"
"You haven't been around much, have you?"
"Tarsonis recruit about two years back." He summed up quickly – they were going into action, there wasn't much time.
"Well we got picked up on Antiga. Trust me, they had plenty of time to get to know each other. Girl used to be one of us, 'fore she turned alien." He spit, and it made a tinny sound in the can. He was a crack-shot.
"Thought it was jus' Zerg."
"She is now. So if you see her, don't stop, just shoot. Probably be dead anyway."
"Right." Wasn't the reassurance he wanted. Still, probably everyone would have wanted a crack at the most key figure.
Word had come back that the Zerg had gone into disarray, and it was rumoured that whatever power was driving those things, had been destroyed by the protoss.
There were other rumours, less likely, of the pirate Jim Raynor and his crew, having provided some assistance, but he didn't know what to make of those. Maybe it had been one of Mengsk' operations in disguise, he still remembered the mobilisation where they sent those poor boys out to Char.
Then they found out the Zerg had a queen, and it had been even longer to put the pieces together, even with the UNN trying to string it all together for them.
He slipped a mag casing into the gauss rifle. It was smooth enough.
The airlock suddenly blew out. They only had an instant of time to see the strange crab-like creature hovering outside the view, and then they were all killed – sucked out into the void of space, just bodies drifting past it…
The Zerg had arrived.
(*)
The Battlecruiser Delta Tarsonis Lancer V, travelling in deep space.
Megan Candor was a Dominion crew fleet officer, a captain, and their chief systems operations supervisor on the ship. She was an ex-Umojan scientist they had recruited for their own research projects. She crossed her legs, her outline glimmering before the consoles, as she checked the metrics. The captain liked to check in on her over the videophone, which creeped her out, but she dealt with it as best she could, like an adult.
Final checks were due, and she figured she could avoid him for at least most of that time. Just mingle with the marines, they were a pretty good bunch. Several of them even had wives and girlfriends, but mostly they just had a good atmosphere – reading newspapers, watching the interTV. She suspected they were from Proxima, they always had a pretty low crime-rate versus a good recruitment rate, one of the most positive social indexes in the system, although the Confederacy liked to skip that over in their system news reports, theoretically independent journalism or not.
She was fortunate in that she happened to have her own circle of allies and friends, who tended to have a more Earthly finger on the pulse, news from the ground as it were. She didn't go so far as to listen to the pirate networks, they were more than half as bad, even worse when it came to pure fabrication – but you'd be surprised what common sense and local intelligence could tell you. The Confederacy still needed to run on facts.
The Confederacy always liked to play games with their numbers.
It had become clear that the Zerg will infiltrating in from every corner of the sector – these weren't just isolated incidents, the Zerg were invading.
Making their homes and burrows in lifeless asteroids, they were just now stirring to life to join their greater broods. They had merely been dormant, human fire teams had completely bypassed them with their scans, blending in with rock and atritus soils, utilizing their native abilities in pure dormancy.
The Swarm utilised and bred together their ancient instincts for the greater whole of their number, and the result were these uncanny organisms that could escape the sensors of the human's most advanced scouts. Often destroyed in a terrifying display of activity when they did encounter something.
The Zerg had seeded their spores all through these drifting asteroids, hibernating until it was time. Kerrigan had apparently left them behind as scouts.
Kerrigan had held onto her terran intelligence and tactics in a terrifying way, it had seemed from all indications.
She clicked on the recorder for a moment, as she studied the images she had collected.
"All indications were that she pulled back the Zerg Swarm to their sector, and hadn't been seen since."
She peered at the monitor.
"What has she been doing all this time?"
(*)
"There are rumours that she was reforming, transforming if you will, her Zerg broods. It was speculated that she was still solidifying her control, or perhaps that she was preparing for some eventuality we hadn't foreseen. Perhaps she didn't want control to be disputed with her like it was with Mengsk and the UED."
"The one thing we do think, is that she likes to exert her power over people. Which she has."
"Mm, so what do you recommend?"
"The best thing we can do, bulk up our siege defenses, try to thin them out in space – make it expensive."
"These are the Zerg, we can't bleed them financially."
"No, but we can make the assaults prohibitive – it comes down to attrition, sir. How many bodies they have versus how many munitions we have stock-piled, and who uses them more effectively before it turns into our bodies. Even the Zerg must have an economic supply-line, they can't be manufacturing their troops from nothing, however it appears."
"How many troops do we estimate they have?"
"After the UED war, the estimates came up that they had up to five billion troops present, spread out over the conflicted areas and in reserve."
"From what we've seen of their expansion rates, I'd add another ten percent to be generous – given that they seem to have withdrawn entirely."
"As soon as they attack, that number will fluctuate again, sir."
"I'm well aware. They're an invasive organism – but the numbers, man, they're all we have to work with."
Munitions versus bodies. The commander thought, as the man waited for his response.
"I see. Thank you for your advice."
He switched it off, stood up, and went to the window. For a time he stared out at the desert. Then, carefully, he produced a small box. Inside the box, opened with a key and DNA combination only he could provide, was another key. He put the key into a hidden access input in his desk you could only access blindly, if you knew where it was. A small panel opened on his desk. And he pushed the button that would authorise the nuclear strike.
Nothing would be seen of this colony again. There were less than a hundred civilians and troops present.
He watched the nuke come down.
"Despair and intelligence, the wrestling twins." – Afi Davit, 2477, at a science conference
discussing the ramifications for neurological restructuring and the human soul, shortly
before the social reformation program for the socially impaired was enacted.
(*)
Not every terran had given up, but some of them were given no quarter.
At the colony that had supplied quarters for engineers and civilians working on the Prometheus project, had been made defunct for some time now, their contribution already made, their personnel still be transported back off-world, but leaving behind civilian and officer families that could not move so easily. A settled colony could be expensive.
Her mocking laughter echoed throughout the terran halls, seemingly from the air itself. Some kind of psychic ability, but nothing any terran had ever been heard of showing. The result of her alien engineering, she could now do things they couldn't understand.
Filtering through the colony, the zerg sliced through and savaged the populace, shredded through their numbers with quick action and intelligence.
Like straw before the scythe, they couldn't protect themselves.
Their pleas were finally, reluctantly answered by the local barracks, deploying a platoon of marines, who, without sympathy and dead eyes, shot down dying civilians in the line of fire as expediently as the feral creatures that murdered them. But they too, would be turned upon in the end, and the dropship lifted off as the last of their number went down under the cracking limbs of superior alien numbers, opening them like tin cans.
(*)
Hundreds of marines marched at rapid time towards the boarding stations, the wraith cover had thinned – even their best pilots, dozens of experienced fighters from all over the sector, could not stay the Swarm forever. A flight of Scourge had shrieked out of nowhere and disrupted a flight – barely escaping their plasma bombing, but slowing the wing down enough to let the Zerg increase their presence. The wraiths couldn't be everywhere at once.
They launched a raid on the space behemoths, roaring their alien roars as the missiles torpedoed into their sides with explosions. There was no sound, but they saw the dying ripple as these bestial transports were thwarted from depositing the armies that infested their massive fleshy hulls.
How the Zerg… the wraiths could not even fathom the biological complexities this ancient race utilised to accomplish these feats, even though their overlords had become a common sight, it was still eerie and frightening to behold. Those insectile, monstrous feelers and bulks darkened the skies of every world they conquered. What thoughts passed through their alien minds as they were destroyed? It was not their job to guess.
Below, rivers sliced away rocks into gorges a thousand feet deep, disappearing into darkness. And it was on this world that Mengsk had established one of his greatest projects.
Always, he had been urging the Dominion to be prepared. Always, he had been building his fleets. And always, he had been thinking of the distant Zerg and Protoss homeworlds, their own sectors. And he had been thinking of the power necessary to drive the terran power right into the heart of their territory. To this end he commissioned more powerful warships, capable of crossing the distance.
They had been taking their cues and technology from the UED who had recently invaded with a fully functioning military force, capable of staging and taking control of the entire terran sector and even the Zerg Swarm, if only for a short amount of time.
(*)
They had them in captivity, stasis. Their scientists with their dark glasses and their optic scanners were studying them.
"This goes beyond anything we had projected."
"This is – this something else."
Even the scientist, who had overseen projects that had seen dozens of innocents to their death, sometimes in tortured and horrible ways – blanched at this.
"She's not just – she seems to be trying to experiment, or explore, maternal instinct through these… proxies."
"Didn't think it was in our alien Queen's MO, to be honest. Everything we've seen had told us she still holds onto a lot of her… shall we say… foibles? Her extreme sense of self and will."
"She's one of the Zerg now, you can't predict where that will take her."
"I think it's her self she's struggling with."
"I'm no alien psychologist. Kerrigan, in some ways, represents the first true alien. She's not protoss or zerg, she's one of us changed into something else, and now the entire Swarm follows her. We don't know why, what instinct draws them to her, but she at least seems to have a psychic connection. The Swarm has started to behave differently than when it was under the Overmind's control. Without it, we were able to exploit some weaknesses, draw numbers away from her, but it appears she is rapidly adapting to the challenge."
(*)
The Prometheus rose. The huge legion-class Battlecruiser - from the heart of the facility, it's nuclear heart burning within its dark bulk, it rose against a Zerg scarred sky, as shapes fell like motes and streaked past it.
Up, up, the promethean heart of man.
Wave after wave slammed into it. It fired back. The massive vessel was huge, but unprepared. The colony was lost in a matter of hours. The defending fleet would be forced to retreat at half-strength. Nothing of the glory of the new ship battalion that was promised.
All that would be reported back to Mengsk was failure.
Chapter Four The Protoss
It searched for something on this world. The Council of the Khalai had given it the co-ordinates on this sacred world, and so it searched, aware that every breath was something sacred to its ancestors.
There was something holy about this world, although it was no Aiur. Something about its jungles seemed reminiscent, and it wondered if the ancient Wanderers had been to this world long ago. Certain the protoss had established their colonies here long since, but were also abandoned in the time of upheavel. Perhaps there were secrets here, even the Dragoon had not seen, in its long long life. Two lives, in fact, in which to have known the mysteries of their proud and great race.
Invisible to the human eye, the dragoon snaked out two interlink neural nodes, exposing its inner structure, and made contact with the unseen object, an ancient protoss device from past expeditions. There was still life within it.
Its mind sought out what its optics could not. The protoss had rediscovered a temple they had lost.
(*)
He held up the glowing lattice. "This is the prohedrius, which powers our vessel."
Micro-civilisations existed within that manifold, created by the great civilisation of Aiur. A complex civilisation of photons and khaydarin energy.
The Khalai instructed them in their duties. Many of the vessels remarked and featured new and different technologies, a legacy of their new alliance with the Nerazim, who had offered ships and forces of their own, which they had fashioned from the soil of their new world.
They had not the might of the Empire behind them – but the protoss were not to be underestimated, and they had found ways to compensate for their lack of resources. A place must be found for them as well, beyond slipping about with unnerving secrecy, disappearing and reappearing to add their thoughts to the Khalai when they were not busy with their errands.
The protoss must be as one – this was the way they marched as an army, and how an enemy could be defeated by their armies.
(*)
The zealot strode among the decks, his eyes searching out the various visual apertures. A moment was all it needed to illuminate the darkness.
The commanding protoss was taking council with his most trusted warriors in the sanctum, the power of the vessel humming around them, at one with the will of the protoss as it speared them through the night. The eyes of the vessel, automated and computer psi-banks, searching the darkness for their enemies, surrounded in its escort, for it was vessel built with this purpose. The protoss were a race that were once hunters, and their carriers were the mighty spears of Adun.
"We wanted worthy foes – it seems this... "Duran"... will provide them." one spoke. He had been the one sent to confer with the secretive dark Templar, to learn of their warnings.
"Even now his agents slip among us."
The relationship with their dark brethren had been tense and fraught, but not without reward. They had learned much of their enemies that the Conclave had made them blind to. Misseeming the true enemy, they had only now begun to learn of their allies – who had sheltered them in their own home, even after they had been ousted from their first by the same people.
Fate had a turn for irony, it seemed. The commander mused on this, often. It was his responsibility to see to the safety of his warriors, and he heeded what word he could hear of the enemy, even if his informants be of those with a dark past instead of his own.
He had sent his own agents to confirm this, and a vision was starting to form among the protoss. Perhaps they would have something to do after all, other than rescuing their people from the depraved march of Zerg on the worlds they once protected. These had been trying times.
He studied his reflection in the psykar pool, noting the motions with the discipline of a hundred years of the Khala training.
"Let him send his soldiers of darkness... We shall be ready..."
The Carrier began receiving ships.
(*)
Asteroid. The protoss had taken up position outside it. Many were curious, but soon discovered why.
"It is hard to say how altruistic our ancient masters were, when we discover things like this." The protoss said, holding up the scarred glossy rock, gouged deep with some ancient display of power long ago. The device, the key, he had held in his other hand.
"Careful, lest we repeat the paranoia of our sinful ancestors," said his companion, his advisor. "It may be that there is a purpose to this we do not understand. Let us not jump to conclusions with insufficient knowledge. Our masters did not have time to teach us all they knew, obviously, to our own sorrow."
The protoss knew it before they arrived. The Zerg attacked.
They shattered shards of their dense bone in the force of the attack, they leapt on it, they clawed. The ferocity of their attack left protoss defenders stunned and reeling, moving rapidly backwards to gain some space.
But they were as ferocious as the other, and gave not an inch in their attack, until power cells were beginning to falter under the assault. Butted with their heads, the shields flashing under the force of the assault.
Crawling through the holes and tunnels in the asteroid, the Zerg had launched multiple attacks on the Protoss, apparently lured by much the same, or perhaps even the Protoss themselves.
(*)
Inside the temple, the wrathful protoss battled those who resisted them, discovering heretics. Not just ancient defenses, but parishioners of a foreign discipline they had long forgotten existed until recent days. The leader of the protoss had been especially adamant.
Its thoughts like a storm, and its enemies fell to its graceful power.
"You thought you would be safe with an illusion." the templar said, before he destroyed him.
(*)
The protoss studied the humming warp rift that provided the power to this vessel's engines. It was their engines, in a sense, providing motive across the stars.
The technology of the Xel'Naga was still strange and wondrous to their ancient students, and still it seemed, there were things to discover. More and more elusive things, and it became apparent that the Xel'Naga had delved into knowledge even beyond what the protoss had suspected of them, and were just beginning to.
The dark templar… they were their greatest student, votives, and parishioners, who even now searched for their legacies at the cost of everything they had left behind. There… might be some precious knowledge that could aid them in this matter.
Their homeworld had become an ally to the protoss – and it seems they would have their chance to learn for themselves. Perhaps with the aid of Aiur's surviving scholars and technologists, they might aid their brethren in discovering more of their past.
(*)
A sound came from the mechanical cradle.
"The probes are still eager, master."
They had recovered several of their robot servants, who were already longing for the restoration of Aiur, of their colonies. He felt a fondness for them in that regard, they were loyal creations and creatures of Aiur and the Khala, and they bespoke well of it – and they too, would be a part of the light, as Adun had promised his servants.
Glittering, they restored the power nodules, transmitting the essence from their transfiguration matrices – they were humble things, but they had the intelligence and skill to form even the most complex patterns from the psi ether and transform them for proper use. Even the Khalai master who created them, would be most pleased with their apt service for which he constructed them.
He patted one on the head, psionically reinforcing it, and instructing it, and indeed, praising it. Although it was not so seeming to be so informal at these times, he found that he could not let it pass, in these times, any devotion to Aiur was a precious thing, no wanton thing.
They were simple creatures, after a fashion, but they were bright with hope and a precious spirit of their own, gift of the khaydarin technology, and that in turn, sustained his own sense of faith. Strange, that a master should look to his machines, but the fall of Aiur had been great in their hearts, and still their race recovered from the great despair and depression that had covered them, their pride darkened to that of refugees and wanderers. Once, they had exiled the dark templar, their parishioners lurking among the lightless spaces, now they were covered in their own shame. Not merely punished by exile from its light, but incumbent as the defenders that let it fall, and slip from their grace, so that the light was no more.
He sighed. Much work must be done, if they were to find the path once again. Their warriors still lusted for battle, to reprove the mightiness of Aiur, but it must not be without wisdom.
The Overmind had sought a great power on Aiur – and while this was no great surprise, if things of power existed, it would be in the heart of power with the protoss – it was yet to remain what they, the protoss, the khalai, would make of its machinations and thoughts.
Zeratul was the only one to have touched the Overmind and lived, but he had taken his secrets with him into the dark, on some mysterious errand.
"Zeratul has left with his provincial troops to search for some great enemy he spoke of. We must find these cerebrates on our own."
"He has promised that the dark templar shall return, so do not be surprised if we see them upon the battlefield. It is their way to keep secrets."
"They are breeding these new things – and we are on our own to destroy them."
"It is what we are. How we have always been. We have always been, first and foremost, seekers of knowledge. And it is with the Zerg that we must know."
Hunter. Let the Zerg beware.
Chapter Five Colony Marines
Two terran dropships crashed down. But they were not alone on this world.
A zealot appeared to meet them - and the protoss offered to make them their allies for the situation, strange as it was. With the Zerg present, and the terrans caught off-guard but their unlucky deployment – they agreed. They would have to go quite a ways on foot, and it seemed these protoss would be their most likely allies in such a venture.
They knew little of the protoss, they had heard of encounters, but they never expected to see one up-close that wasn't attacking.
Just as well, these warriors of theirs, were a thousand years more advanced at least, skilled fighters, their power-suits just a shimmering glowing shield from all reports – although there was no way to gauge such things, other than if the zealot chose, he would kill several of them at least before he could be brought down, and if they were not fortunate, not be brought down at all.
Power, and might, and speed, in close quarters with weapons that could not be resisted by any metal know thus far... it was no wonder they had no fear of zerg or terran.
It was the terrans who retreated when the protoss caught them out of position. Heavy artillery was the only effective way to attempt to deter a protoss assault on foot. Lots and lots of firepower, the good old Korprulu adage.
You needed much preparation to attempt an assault on these beings – they were... for lack of a better word... powerful. And there was a hypnotic aura about them – they gave you an odd feeling. But at least they seemed to know what they were doing.
The humans, two among them especially, wondered about them – what strange civilisation they must have, what they believed, where they came from – what they could teach them...
There were, almost cults, you could call them – of fanatics determined that the protoss could teach them the ultimate unfathomable mysteries of the universe. Enlighten them to greater truth. They may have been right – but he wondered if the protoss cared.
The Sergeant had to speak to them, while these thoughts were going through his mind.
All reports indicated that they tended to take a parental protector-like status of the sectors and sector-sects, any time a fleet of theirs had been witnessed. Disdaining alliance or co-operation with local terran forces, unless those terran forces made a nuisance of themselves.
He suspected the protoss did not much like interference with their fleets. And with the plague of infestation that had threatened the terran worlds, he could almost understand that too. It was, he thought, the mark of a powerful military mind or strategic thinking – although he hardly understood on what terms the protoss thought of such things. It would be – he admitted – fascinating. It almost made him forget the present, and long for the day he might see some exchange between them and the protoss, under peaceful conditions.
They were not evil, they didn't even seem hostile – maybe one could entertain the faith that these small encounters might become more in time.
Makes me sound like a girl with a crush – hope these things aren't telepathic like they say.
One of the protoss turned its eyes on him, and he felt an involuntary feeling pass through him. On second thought, maybe he should just tend to his business.
He was starting to suspect they were sensitive at least.
It wasn't until later that he would find out how little he knew, even with that which he was yet to find out.
(*)
There was a saying. "Only an angel can fight another angel." She wondered about that sometimes. She wondered if maybe it was a more complete saying that included "fighting on the side of angels". To her, it seemed to smack of completeness.
Religious Bible education was mandatory where she came from, and strange as it seemed, it had come in handy lately, in coming to grips with the presence of these strange aliens. Only Biblical poetry could describe their presence and civilization in terms she found convincing. It was a constant argument she had with herself, not that she intended to write it down in a philosophical text-book of any kind – but she was trying to get to grips with it.
They were not protoss, but they had been fighting wars of their own for as long as she could remember – and they had machines of war that'd make history for a long time to come. They were stubborn and brave, and they would fight with every dying breath for the right to survive. Only now would the terrans of the sector stop fighting each other, and turn that upon the Zerg instead. Let's see if the Zerg could survive what the terrans lived with every day. Constant warfare was a familiar friend to the terrans – even if these Zerg and their terrors were not.
They were introduced to the protoss, and Carol, their medical scientist whom they were escorting, got to speak to them as well – and the meeting was far briefer and more profound that she would have thought for such a short amount of time. The protoss wasted little time, and soon she had developed a bit of a rapport with one of them. An odd word - sounds like "repour" but looks different on paper.
They had paused in their trek, and one of the protoss (she still had difficulty telling them apart, despite all her rigorous training) happened to be standing near her. She thought it was the same one.
"You knew what I was thinking?" she asked, seeing the protoss' look – for they had developed some comradeship after a sort, as the columns made their way through unfamiliar territory, to the terrans at least. It was the strangest escort she had ever received.
"You do not wear your expressions upon your flesh – but your flesh responds to you. It is the spirit that the protoss look for, and there is something… flighty, but worthy, in your kind, I believe."
There was something both kindly and gentle in those alien features, and she felt oddly like he was a teacher. There was an aura around him that made her feel trust, rather than suspicion – the protoss were all strange and powerful and eerie, but the ones that stopped to speak with the "lowly" (as she supposed they thought of her), the curious terran, were the ones that left the impression on her. She wondered how much the protoss knew, as it continued to speak. Strange, really. Speaking with one of the protoss made you wonder.
"It is like the metal surface of these machines, our devices, it is a skin for what it holds beneath. That is where true power lies, and what your race is just beginning to discover."
She liked that. She had never thought herself very pretty, but she thought she exuded an appeal that went beyond what was scarcely ordinary features, not so much different from many women she knew, except that it was her own.
The only place she truly felt she was herself, would distinguish herself, is if there was something more. Something you couldn't see physically, but was there anyway.
Human senses were complex but limited. There was only so much you could detect of a person relying on purely physical data, regardless. But you could recognize them at a distance in an instant. Or so she reckoned.
The protoss didn't seem to be watching her – but she felt obvious.
"We were children once, also." She heard him say, later.
(*)
With the aid of the protoss, they were able to reach their colony. An unusual escort, but they had saved them from many perils. It had been reported that the protoss were sometimes benign, but this had been the first friendly encounter Carol and his escort of marines had.
She knew she should have bargained for that field ghost they talked about – but this had turned out quite well.
She had been brought here to study the protoss – and she got closer than she thought.
Ostensibly though, they were there to restore the remote colony here – supposedly an outpost for the frontier. But this was why. It was the closest world they had to known protoss spaces, where their ships had been seen patrolling by deep space recon. If they were going to make contact with the protoss anywhere – it'd be here. And they were right.
It was enough to make you suspicious – but Carol had no real conjecture to go on.
(*)
The protoss were a great mystery. Perhaps the greatest mankind had yet encountered, besides and even than the unravelling of space-time for their warp engines. A race that could explain these mysteries to greater satisfaction.
The terrans were hardy, independent, but also stubborn and curious. He felt an ideological surge of pride.
The human expedition restored the fortified command centre known as "the Watchtower".
They got some comms and scanners and radio signals up, tracking everything for a thousand miles. The commanding officer, their sergeant, had set up in the monitor station, watched the shifting motion frames – they'd spot anything approaching larger than a spider.
Like a protoss scarab for instance. The sergeant shivered. You usually got one chance to spot those coming, and then something was blown up, sometimes a marine formation.
They found the supply base, about twenty miles distant – a short time in the dropship.
They had found the original base supervisor, drunk in his office with what looked like a ten year supply of liquor – if he drank a bottle every week. It took them ten minutes of shouting and shaking to rouse him – he hadn't heard a thing when they arrived.
This guy never seemed to have heard of anything. He must have been stuck out here without any major comms traffic for over ten years.
Apparently just a few minor leaks here and there. The comms tower needed to be replaced that was for sure. Something with a more powerful boost, so he could see what was really going on in the core worlds.
The report went back and forth.
"They're not merely a psychic race – their powers are like the gun to the... well the telepathy. They have these guys... masters of their kind, that can psionically destroy organic tissue en masse, turn an army of zerg into dog meat. I've seen the reports, we've gotten satellite imagery after it clears – there's nothing left. And it wasn't any kind of machine – it was just one of the protoss. For them, it's not just mind tricks, neurological mutation or giftedness, it's an energy field they can manipulate or transmute. A natural part of their race. It's the secret of their power."
"A gun to a knife fight."
"There's some kind of energy field we haven't been able to identify."
"They already have significant physical advantages, but that's nothing compared to their psionic, and obviously technological power."
"We'd be like children to them. Probably impoverished ones."
"That's why our ghosts don't engage them – anyone with even the slightest psychic sensitivity are compromised around them, some sort of psychic stress – we can ameliorate some of the damage with dampeners and controllers, but the best bet is just that they keep their distance and try to sabotage them from range. Best bet is just to bomb them."
"The Zerg..."
"Our best minds surmise that the Zerg wanted us for our potential. They took our DNA and used it to create weapons against the protoss."
"We should ask the protoss"
"What, turn to the aliens to be our allies?"
They're the only help we've got. He wanted to say.
(*)
The expedition of scientists and their marines were escorted into one of the protoss structures, it was an odd welcome, but the place was interesting.
The protoss who led them took the time to speak to her, answering her questions.
"I'm here to study the alien races," she had told him, finally, deciding to be honest. If she could hide anything from those glowing eyes.
"Hmm," he had replied – and that had led to this, to her surprise. She had got permission from the command centre, and now their small scientific expedition was going with a protoss force to their own encampment. As if the protoss had anything to fear from the terrans in the first place – they certainly didn't act as if they did. And since they had provided the protection to the failed terran drop rejoining the mission in the first place, it was fair enough, she thought.
She had had a shock, where she almost thought that maybe they had gotten things reversed – and the protoss had simply been waiting here, or coming here, to study the terrans – having anticipated with those ineffable alien intellects in advance that the humans would be sending the very group.
But after some time she calmed down a little – they had shown no inclination to deception, or subversive games – in fact, they seemed to have very little interest of that kind after all, beyond what was appeared entirely sincere in their motivations. They simply happened to be here – because this was the edge of their patrols – which was why the humans came here.
It could get very confusing sometimes, but she tended to trust the protoss. She couldn't rely on simply being treated well on account of humanity's somewhat child-like status in comparison to their vast empire that existed prior to even the humans' arrival, but they demonstrated no real hostility to their kind – only an incredible, earth-shattering neglect when they chose to turn their minds to that of war against the Zerg.
Chau Sara still burned – Mar Sara was still barren wasteland with a few hardy settlers trying to recover lost memories there...
He responded to her queries – as she told him she was a scientist. She was surprised to learn something almost immediately.
(*)
"Let the protoss take care of your wills, and we will see what you have to offer, young scientist."
What she had to offer? What were they doing? She wondered. And realised there had been a destination of sorts for her.
They cleared the place for her, and soon she was surrounded in the most incredible sight. Machines she didn't understand, but the crystals and parts glowed, and she knew they were something wondrous. She felt something she hadn't felt in a long time – safe.
The zealots had even created a guard for her outside. The protoss, for a human, she did not know how to react, other than embarrassingly. They seemed to put some stock into her words, although she could not imagine how she, with her limited human faculties, could offer anything.
But she worked.
And she soon had some working correlations, patterns that were starting to become clear. All her equipment still functioned, and she suddenly realised – it was going well.
"You have an apt eye for patterns," the zealot told her. And she decided it was worth it for that greeting.
She wondered why the protoss had not done something earlier. They could accomplish anything it seemed – but they seemed to evinced no interest in trying to cure the zerg infestation. Perhaps because it had no effect on their own race, they simply never pursued it. Letting the terran race fall into the flames.
She battled with feelings of regret and anger, somewhat sublimed by the care they apparently showed. She spent the hour arguing it with herself, until she had achieved some equilibrium with the multiple emotions.
"So where do we fit into all this?" the human asked.
"We are not alone. The protoss, of all people, can appreciate this. We do not scorn the alliance of humans – they have been crucial in our most important battles."
"Well – we – might not be some kind of race of space deities, but sure, we'll do our best." They loaded their weapons.
The protoss seemed to react in an odd fashion to that, somewhere between amused and startled.
(*)
Word came later that the Zerg were attacking. The protoss thought it'd be an excellent opportunity to provide her with the carcasses she required for her research. Part of her work was in determining differences in Zerg on different worlds, whether deployed or biologically produced there. What she really needed was a live egg in the field that she could test – but they'd need to go into an actual hive for that.
She had already recorded a psychic buzz that the Zerg drones gave off, and wanted something to compare her readings to.
The marines for their part, were a little confused where they fit into the combat formation, and wondered if the protoss were going to supply them with more advanced equipment.
"You have trained with your weapons – use them." The Templar, one of their elite, had only terse words, both awe-inspiring and intimidating, being emitted from somewhere behind those eyes. They were brighter than cobalt lights – hypnotic and strange. What were these protoss, really? There was nothing else like them in the universe, in any biological strata. People didn't just emit glows from their eyes and bend space-time with their thoughts, unless they were some kind of deep sea creature trying to lure in prey for the first one, which didn't assuage him any better.
The marine corps accepted that. He didn't know if the protoss even had weapons they could use. He had never seen anything that resembled a rifle, except for objects that were more likely staffs or just some kind of ceremonial decoration with no function.
Their troops had used a protoss lighting fixture before in the temple, as a surprisingly useful weapon. But he didn't think they would be able to match the protoss' martial prowess with those weapons – and, well, it seemed they were right – they should use what they had, what they knew how to use.
(*)
The research expedition entered deeper into the arctic caves.
One of them got confused and hypnotised, wandering the protoss... building... until he was found again, apparently mesmerised by the lights.
(*)
Caught by the Zerg, the disabled vessel was now under attack by Zerg forces – and they felt as if the Xel'Naga from long ago. They felt better able to appreciate the beleaguerment of their ancient masters now. But battle was what the protoss craved.
Wave after wave came after and slammed into the disabled vessel, anchored among the asteroids as their warriors worked to recover what they had found at great effort and cost.
Within the ship, the protoss watched.
The protoss in charge of the vessel's defense watched. His voice vibrant as if with many voices.
"They have found some way to penetrate our shields."
Chapter Six Hidden Colony
"There must be something out there they want. These figures... these indications here show they keep returning to this spot, there must be something there we haven't seen, that's drawn this kind of attention."
They traced the outline of the silhouettes, marked by a couple of radio notations.
"We've spotted several warp emergences here. It seems the Zerg are moving more forces into the system."
(*)
They saw it, lights flickering as if disabled, obviously damaged in several places, its shield seemed to be at half power – and dark shapes were moving in towards it. The beached vessel was fighting off an army. A protoss carrier.
That's what the Zerg were here for, why they were coming here of all places from all over the space sector...
The Terrans, too... had noticed the battle taking place above their world...
(*)
This new information was brought to the protoss commanders. The massive craft, it seemed, was beset on many sides of even its formidable size and hull.
"Hmm, the terrans seem to be launching an assault on our vessel."
The Terrans were indeed launching an assault, whoosh whoosh whoosh with the fighters and ships, from ground bases and space platforms, they were mobilising a defensive strategy that had been intended to be used against the Zerg. It seemed an ill coincidence had made the protoss their target instead.
"Hmm, we have to buy time for our strategy to succeed. It seems we must fend off their attack as well – our presence must have been taken as a hostile gesture."
"We are still recovering the sacred artefacts from their shrines – it seemed the protoss must again do what is necessary."
Chapter Seven Infested
They gurgled, half alien half human screams, as they napalmed the structures.
Infested or not, they burned just like everything else.
"It's all these little gremlins shriek about out here, being the "future of humanity" – it really rides the nerves thinking about it."
"One of my boys got cornered in a barracks one time, and they just stood there staring at him while talking nonsense, creeped him right out. Luckily, he got out an escape just in time, left them to eat their own chunks."
"We've got the best kids out here to deal with a problem like this – they've faced it before, sometimes together, and they know when to pinch and hit deep. Toughest crew you could ask for, and they're okay with the job as long as they get to do most of the killing. After being through an experience like that, it's all a man can think about, I'd wager."
"Sounds good – we'll load 'em up. Give them the safety prep and all that, and give these bastards some hell to think about on the way to the real thing."
Gutsy as ****, these clowns.
(*)
Some time later in the centre of the infestation, still dripping that pale organic liquid, in the centre of the Command Centre. "Say hello to the future," he growled around his cigarette, and squeezed the trigger tight until it clicked empty.
(*)
Some months later, on the Battlecruiser Apollus Gaius.
"You ever get stuck on a habit so hard, that months and months later, you realise something so obvious that was staring you in the face so hard. Drives a man crazy when he does something so good, he ends up missing the solution from the beginning. That's what stubbornness will get you – but it's not all bad – you can make it up."
"I was so adamant to ignore it after the first few times, that I completely overlooked what I was looking at."
"We're getting reports – it's said that Kerrigan's been... experimenting... on human females. The Zerg have been infesting our ghost potentials in particular."
"No-one knows why..."
(*)
Mike Dentar had once been a prospector, and since even before that had been a doctor.
He re-entered the atmosphere, setting the co-ordinate for where the command centre used to be, a derelict old thing by now, all nuclear scorched panels and a docking clamp that hadn't been in operation for years now – not after this world was abandoned.
He didn't know how anything survived the purge of the protoss, but this world was as good as dead anyway. Nothing human remained... that, he knew.
He had left her behind on a world with the Zerg. He hadn't seen her since. He had dreaded to go back, knowing she was there.
He had returned. Mar Sara. Where it had began for him...
It was called a nukezone suit. Heaviest armour you had ever seen. He strode out into the blistered desert winds with it...
Searching for survivors. Lurching among the swollen bumps and dunes and melted slags of detritus, his intruments searched, indicating signs by bleeping lights on his panel as he manoeuvred the vehicle. This search could take him hours to reach the next major structure – there weren't many left standing.
Only in places like Korhal did you see wastes like this – and that had been reduced to sand by a thousand world-decimating nuclear bombs. It gave it an eerie sense of familiarity and strangeness all at once. How did the protoss accomplish it? They used no bombs. They incinerated the world at a glance.
He made it through the windstorm, battling the elements and striding inside the opening gate with all eight tonnes of metal hulk. He dismounted and looked around, feeling pangs in his chest.
It was a recovery platform. Streams of gas were still emitted. He activated the old equipment. Some old pictures, the fans of wrecked depots half buried in dust. There had been pictures in the suit too.
He found it. The old residential cells. He had lived in this quarter – this was their room. It was unrecognisable now.
He turned around in the dark room, and something was there behind him. It had made no sound in the utter stillness. He felt a shock go through him involuntarily. A whisper of a chill. He imagined he heard his name, but he didn't see her face move. John...
He found her. She was there after all...
All the colonists were...
He found them...
(*)
They both sat together on the cliff line, watching. He glanced at her, she seemed to have no thoughts, just staring emptily out into the desert with him.
Something strange seemed to have happened to the Zerg out here – the infested. With no greater Swarm to guide them they seem to have lost all sense of initiative. They didn't seem hostile to anything, didn't respond to anything, just watched with those empty expressions. He wondered what they had done before seeing him.
But there had been something... something that had drawn her to him.
He had wondered if there was some factor in her blood that had enabled her to resist infestation, and so had intended to bring her back to a science laboratory...
If they could bring her back... he had sobbed, not realising how close he was to grief, thinking his thoughts were full of action.
He begun the work. He had been a doctor. The laboratory equipment came online again.
(*)
The marines had tried to shoot them down. The marines wouldn't accept it.
So he had taken her out here. They looked out at the empty wasteland. He and his wife.
And there they stayed...
Chapter Eight Remote Outpost
The dark Templar found it.
The equipment was ancient, aged. He activated it, and with reluctant movements, the ancient devices reawakened. Probes dating from before the Schism heeded his call.
The lone Templar commanded them to restore the outpost to service.
The ministration circuit became active, and he connected to the nexi that once existed in this place – just a phantom shell, of memories and ghosts, recording what was.
His mind could sift through it, organise it, bring it into order, to show what should be shown. And soon there it was – the beacon expression, and he could see with the eyes of centuries passed, without repair or rejoining.
He felt a moment of sadness for this unconnected arc of the protoss civilisation, but such sympathies were muted by the darkness that had separated him as well. Discarded by the Conclave, this place would serve a purpose still, and it was fortunate that it recognised his mastery as a protoss.
Subtle energy pulses prevented the local animals from entering, scampering back out into the dry brush. Although he had seen a thousand worlds, sometimes one could still surprise him. But this colony would have everything he would need, an archive at his fingertips.
Across the span of space, the pulse reached.
Singlehandedly, he began building the colony up – its sole defender. None of the Khalai were here, so the grave burden fell upon him, one of the Nerazim.
Using a mysterkherim, he persuaded the probes to take his more demanding commands. He did not wish to pit them in battle, each one was too invaluable to lose, but he could use them to make the terrain to his advantage. The advantage of every dark Templar was the shadows the enemy could not see.
Soon the bright crystals of khaydarin power could be seen rising into position. Although it was a power he no longer used, it was necessary to the operation of this place. His own psychic power would have to be enough.
If an enemy attempted to stop what he was doing, he knew just where to strike.
A micro-wormhole produced a small crystal key to his hand, and he activated the systems.
He activated the pylon, and the shield stood ready, he felt pleasure as he witnessed the colony awakening to service once more – it vigilance restored, pride of Aiur surging through its circuits, a glad honour to Aiur, which he had once so longed for.
(*)
The Zerg were milling, he knew. The khalai probe watched him, waiting for orders.
"Their thoughts disturb me." He said in response to its query - and he worked vigilantly, in the way of the Nerazim. Alone.
(*)
Alone, the Templar held off the assault.
The robotic creature stirred to duty and answered him with a voiceless sound of service. Your command? He knew what it asked.
He directed it to guard the entrance. The robotic Immortals made no sound. Their cybernetic counter-parts, Dragoons finding a new host for their vengeance, were not here, and it was just as well.
New energetic-vortex and photon cannons swirled out of the ether, banks of defences realigned out of matter transmitted vortexes at his direction, using the resources stored here, still here after centuries of neglect, pristine, awaiting its masters.
After he had seen to the defences he turned back to other matters. Exploring the place to see what else it had to offer, more defenders or other devices perhaps.
(*)
The Zerg were attacking now, there were some on this world after all, as he had anticipated.
He sensed them moving. If he made contact with one, he might ascertain where they were coming from. His tiny colony of light, against these savages. Well they would have him to contend with.
He directed a psionic burst at the empek pok that lay near the sidewalk, it exploded in a deadly burst of acid and shards, flying into the flanks of the creatures.
The Immortal made a sound, the Templar heard its shields and weapons, as it dutifully guarded against the enemy.
The dark Templar lured in a number of them, twos and threes, and dropped them down into the endless energy bores that fell away into the planet below, excavated by the initial settlement probes. He slew others from the shadows, confused by his elusive attacks.
(*)
He directed the great psionic charge, an array that would fire a psychic beam of communication across the stars wherever he directed. It took time, but he at last discovered what he was looking for, faint thing slipping past the most remote reaches. The fleets.
He discharged his warp blade into the zergling just before it leapt upon the cannon or the psi-interlink to damage it, and left it a scarred carcass of meat, its spirit escaping back to whichever master had bred it.
At last it was done, many hours later, after he had defeated many attempts upon the colony, searing them out of burrow and sky. It was done.
(*)
But he was not idle. He discovered the arcane terminal, from which he could command the technology of the colony hub itself. The probes had been invaluable in restoring it.
There were many things of importance which he had taken the time to comprehend, and now there was one other. It had taken some effort to uncover.
"Hmm," he was curious, studying the font of knowledge before him. Then he plunged his arm into it like waters, and saw what it was he could learn from this ancient place, although Aiur was more enemy than friend. The databanks here went miles deep into the planet, it seemed, although they were hidden far away - storing knowledge of a thousand star systems or more. Worthy enough to preserve.
His eyes widened. He knew.
Chapter Nine The Raid
Survivor
Nova had snuck in, her allegiance had been somewhat questionable of late.
She was about the job – if there was trouble, she'd check it out and sort out the paper-work afterward. Mengsk might think Raynor was a pirate, but he was more useful than Mengsk let on, and Nova had had to work with unsavoury sorts before, not the least of which were her own commanding officers.
She saw something that surprised her. They weren't marines – they weren't even ghost agents – they were something else. But she didn't really want to be questioned. She slipped up, upside-down, into the vent to watch them run past.
"Some new soldiers of Mengsk'. He's really stepped up the security. I wonder what he could be worried about?" She slipped a tac-hacker from her wrist to the sensor anti-com on her belt. It would hide her signal for the next part – the sensors got a little tougher from here.
The Zerg had slipped loose of containment, overriding their pitifully under-powered marine security forces.
She held onto her feelings as she watched their progress, she couldn't compromise her position, so she just watched as the Zerg surged over the terran forces. Fortunately all the major living personnel were already evacuated. Wherever Mengsk was, he had left this an empty command centre, and she didn't yet know why. It wasn't uncommon to shift your base of operations, but it left a lot of questions.
The Zerg were overrunning the cyborgs, which lined up in the corridor to fire. Energy blast ripped from their arm cannons, blasting away at the zerg. Fearlessly, they appeared out of every corner to engage with the enemy. Ranks of Zerg footsoldiers were roasted – metal arm met with whipping exo-skeletal limb, and the cacophony could have deafened a siren.
The last one remained, and then it too, was overrun. Superior numbers against the experimental defenders. Nova heard as the last one was destroyed. Mengsk would be a little out of pocket after that, she mused, although the situation was not amusing.
She wondered if this was a test of some kind – and she had just got herself caught in the middle of it for the sake of her curiousity.
Slowly, the alien hydralisk slithered further into the compound. Were they searching for Mengsk?
She had heard rumour of a shadow war, but she had expected a terran enemy. Perhaps it explained these cyborgs, absolute loyalty combined with fearless power at Mengsk' command. No more troublesome wayward lieutenants.
Those little facts they liked to keep under wraps. But you couldn't keep secrets from a ghost when it was curious. They were the shadowy arm of the government, but they were allowed a certain amount of autonomy, their teachers had invested years into their loyalty doctrine. It made them better agents, and were often Mengsk's best weapons, ironic as it was.
There were other facts that had come to light, although it had been before her time. She knew the mark of the work of ghosts when she saw it – she had no doubt it was true. She wondered what opinion Mengsk had of the ghost program after that, but it was hard to say.
A necessary evil.
She made it into Mengsk' cyber-link security lab, where his personnel had created an impressive, impenetrable layer of security around his imperial command. He had certainly been afraid of something – or at least, prepared. This was computing power equivalent to a planetary station – little wonder with an empire to urn.
Nova had been at work for several months. This was simply the latest facility she had found herself, chasing leads. A suspicion had been growing for some time, and she was going to confirm it for herself.
Never try to tap into the mind of a protoss. Was the only warning she had been given before a deep-cover assignment in counter-espionage against their milling forces.
She tapped into the neural-link to see what she could discover. And she was astonished.
(*)
Nomina and Davis were on the job.
The two ghosts entered as a team, they had a squad of reapers they were able to call in – they were a little short of reinforcements. It was unorthodox, but they managed to think up a good strategy – the reapers should be able to quickly corner stragglers and strays that they flushed out.
They finally cornered him, in the musty air, the dim lighting cut by city lights that managed through the slits. Just a shadowy presence – he had obviously learned ways to blend his psychic essence with his surroundings, confuse their senses.
Spectres were often pretty good at masking their presence, through technology or other means – but they were the trained ghost assassins of the Dominion, they had hunted down wayward gifted for years, and this was their job. And they were good at it.
Clad entirely in black except for their optic enhancers, they stole through the cold compartments, ignoring the breeze of the fans, keeping their C-10s in check, modified for short range combat.
One explosive round from those would rip a hole in a door, wall or human body, large enough to poke a finger through.
They activated the multiplex devices at their belts, and watched their corners, each covering the other as they moved ahead silently, their stealth units automatically adjusting to the environment. Only a faint shimmer could be seen as they stepped through the steam.
They found them. Several. About four men were hooked up to some kind of neural-link cubicle, a cylinder of stuff attached to the back of their heads. They were injecting some kind of chemical and material, and the ghosts knew exactly what they were looking at. This wasn't their first bust. Worse than a neuro-stim den, with their ten year old black market sellers, these guys were trying to turn themselves into the human predators.
Zerg enhancement tissue. They bottled this stuff on the black market, men, often scared, trying to absorb the powers of the enemy, the things that frightened them. For the Spectres, it was simply power, but they weren't afraid to prey on the fearful for their own ends – they gained recruits this way.
A classic fear response, as they learned in the academy – when confronted with something that frightened them, the human instinct was to turn on them, puff yourself up, try to look like the real threat. But in this case, the Zerg didn't care. You couldn't outmass the Swarm. The feeling of control would quickly be drowned in that utter subservience to the Zerg, and the terrans would be seeing their once-fellow-come-Zergs running at them in the battlefield to sacrifice themselves for the glory of their alien masters.
They had thought they'd just find a terrazine stash, but not yet. They swapped communication with quick signals, knowing there were going to be some live bodies around here somewhere. Ghosts weren't the only ones that could lay an ambush – but they also knew how to break one.
Tactical environment negotiation 101, as they say.
They heard a noise, like footsteps, but with an odd off-beat heaviness that scraped for a moment. Not exactly stealthy.
The Swarm...
They heard a whisper – more in their minds than in the air. But it felt wrong, not their usual psi sensitivity tell-tale. They looked at each other. They knew something had gone wrong.
Something had taken over the creature's mind, like all infested, something changed it always toward the same thing, it was like they had become part of some psychic mind with the Zerg, always saying the same thing.
The Spectre had obviously wanted something like this – he had given himself over utterly to the Zerg. As if the infestations on the outer worlds weren't enough, these idiots were bringing it back home with them.
The first bolt tore his head off.
They discovered the rest later, cases and tubes and cryo-chambers full of illicit material. Repurposed food regulators and comm traffic interceptors and cyber-chambers made for marine and ghost rehabilitation and physical regulation. Wires sparked carelessly. The dropships would be coming in soon to collect. The Reapers even had time to get bored below.
"Alright let's get this packed up and back to headquarters."
"These sects have been popping up everywhere, and we don't know why..."
Chapter Ten Invasion
"The protoss are still creating colonies. It's like they've entirely forgotten the Zerg, or they're simply that assured."
"That's what got their homeworld invaded and destroyed in the first place."
"Maybe it's more than it appears. The protoss had amazing technology at their disposal, it may be that we should wait and see, gentlemen – there may be more to see from the protoss, yet."
"No longer just hailing from an unknown world, we've seen these beings establish new settlements and colonies – something we've never seen before. Instead of one world, it seems the protoss are establishing an empire."
"From what Raynor tells me, this falls within their MO, but they simply never ranged into our sector before."
"You talked to Raynor?"
"Sometimes. Mengsk might have cut off contact, but he still talks to some of us, sometimes. Keep us apprised, even if we don't like it."
"Could almost make you like the guy."
"I wouldn't say that out loud too near a Dominion officer, though."
"Hey what's that?"
They spotted something in the atmosphere. Another few minutes, and they tipped back their visors as it became clear...
(*)
The officers had rounded up civilians. They wanted this world for something. The Raiders would find out what, and put a stop to another slaughter before it began.
The Dominion didn't even have time to react as all their remote turrets and targeting antennae went down, and the first dropships came blasting in after their wraith escorts.
Raynor and his closest crew had crashed into the command centre, putting down the defending fighters and cornering their officer with brutal efficiency. He had commanded over two dozen command centre assaults by this stage, and he was getting tougher with them every time. Time was of the essence out here, something that the Dominion officers didn't always seemed to appreciate.
He had picked up a few new scars, but his power armour was still functioning even after a year of hard use in zerg engagements and against his fellow terran both.
"Don't you see?" the officer hissed when they had rounded him up. "It's bait! The Zerg will sense the helpless civilians down here, ripe for infestation, and come swarming."
"You haven't been paying attention, have you?" Raynor said.
"The Overmind is dead – they already got what they wanted."
"It's a whole new game with the Swarm now, with their Queen – she's... like us... she'll see a trap like this."
"And yet the Zerg still seem to be attracted to psychic emanations."
"You might have a point. Even Kerrigan might want to check out something like this, even suspicious as it is."
"These people... they forget she was a trained agent and military commander, even before she became... Zerg queen almighty. She used to bait traps like these – hell, they're probably taking it right out of her book. Mengsk should know that, of anyone."
"I think after attaining the power he's always wanted, the arrogance and desperation have made him more and more blinded. He has to believe he is the power, so, as cunning as he is – I think he ignores the things that don't jive with his view, more than some kind of secret brilliance."
"But he is brilliant, we shouldn't overlook that either. We should see what this is about – and if it's something we can use, hope we don't upset the boat too much. If this guy's telling the truth, I think we can manage. If there's more that Mengsk didn't let on... it could be dangerous, but let's at least get the civilians out of here."
The marine laughed, and chewed on his gum. "Hell, maybe when the Zerg see us, they'll come running anyway."
It was a good point.
"Alright, let's get these birds in the air – we've got a war to fight."
Chapter Eleven Artifact
A strange affair, branching off from a crystal inner core in different direction, surrounded by a faint nimbus in the light. "That structure seems to be emitting tachyons." The science team had touched down a few short minutes ago, exploring the protoss enclave.
Awakening. That's what he thought, as he looked at it. These expeditions had been occurring often enough that he knew to be cautious of these edifices. They had entire teams attempting to analyse the construction but it went far beyond anything they knew, even down to the atomic level it was nearly inscrutable. It barely radiated a decayed atom, but it shone with the light more easily than mirrors, reflecting it in odd ways. Sometimes it nearly blended in with the ground it seemed, but also stood out with stark glimmering crystalline reflection, and other times stood proudly apart, like a jewel on the plain.
There were a thousand papers on these things, from metallurgy to power to culture and theories of transportation and reason and origin even of the metals themselves which were bogus because no-one knew what they were.
They packed out the rations. In a few hours they had set up the equipment. Their best scientists had determined this was the key in gaining access to these temples the protoss left behind, and they were determined to gain access. It was a rare opportunity to study protoss technology - glean what they could from it. Find out the secret of their powers.
After several more hours, after days even, their probes had been to no avail. The structure still stood there, as mysterious as before.
(*)
The terrans, it seemed, had followed in the protoss' wake. And even now, their colonies were springing up where the protoss once had settlements. It had been a curious affair, which the protoss watched with interest from afar.
Would they understand what they found there? Or would they discard, out of ignorance for the sacred and the mysteries? Such wise did they decide to learn more about their ill-tempered guests.
Chapter Twelve Remote Patrol
The battlecruiser was driving through space with its fleet, en route on its patrol to attack and pacify Zerg out-croppings. Kate Lockwell was among them, hoping to gain some exclusive coverage of their enemy – determined to bring back some valuable footage. She would be there when it happened.
Wraiths returned from patrol while they were still slowly making their first rounds in-system in Delta Axanar. They showed her the tubes, the test subjects.
She nearly dropped her equipment, gasping a little, even to herself. She examined them with what she tried to make a reporter's professional curiosity, but this was...
Massive ultralisk tusks (relative to their hosts) grafted onto ordinary human subjects, apparently by splicing DNA replication...
They obviously couldn't have been simply attached, they'd be the size of rhynadons, but somehow they had forced the human system to produce an artificial mutation using zerg DNA. She swallowed, feeling a hardness in her throat, an anxiety of fear. What were they doing...?
"Everyone has a story they want to be heard, so why don't you tell me yours?"
THE END