"What people tend to forget is that tech doesn't win wars. The UED came in with medical technology and robotics of the like not seen or imagined by many Terrans, and yet they still got their asses handed to them by a race that hasn't even discovered the wheel."
Master Sergeant Wallace Hiner, Sixteenth Strike Artillery Company.
"You're an idiot, you know? You get caught trying to sell car parts back to the guys you stole them from, and you were illiterate 'till they brainpanned you. Ya read the label wrong."
"No, I saw the actual gun itself!" the other Marine insisted. "The bore was this big! You could barely pick it up!"
"What good is a gun you can't lug around?" the first Marine asked, rolling his eyes. "You had to've misread something, because an 88mm Impala rifle is an impossibility."
"Impractical, more like it," muttered the Marine sitting next to Buck. "And it's par for the course if you ask me."
Private Buck Dewitt jerked his attention away from the duo on the other side of the dropship. Seated next to him was a Sergeant with "Screw this" scrawled across one pauldron.
"Sir?"
"I joined up five years ago, back when the Dominion was new and the United Earth Directorate had yet to show up. Back in them days, I was in the Strike Artillery, and we fought like real men."
The Sergeant held Buck's rapt attention, though people who rambled used to bore him to tears. For a second, Buck seemed to remember something about being told to pay absolute attention to superior officers back in boot camp, but the actual memory was hard to pin down...
"And then they rolled out the Crucios," the sergeant continued. "I took one look at those and had m'self transferred to Infantry."
Confused, Buck half-raised a hand. "Sir, aren't you safer sitting in a tank than fighting on the front?"
"Boy, to call the Crucio a 'tank' is to insult the memory of the Arclite. The Crucio is a plasticine toy that has no business bein' in a battlefield, hear? If one of 'em lasts longer than five minutes without breaking a folding thingamajig that holds the whole thing together, count yourself lucky."
"If you say so, sir."
The sergeant looked at Buck, rolled a wad of tobacco in his mouth, and continued.
"Private, look around. We're being sent to fight Zerg with bayonets and riot shields. Sheet's going to get real the minute we land, realer than it usually does when Zerg are involved. And when it does, stick behind me and you'll do alright."
Buck glanced at the Sergeant's ID, having been transferred to the squad just before takeoff. "Yes sir, Sergeant Hiner."
Buck was rather confused.
Marines in the division were lined up in parade rows, with Marauders evenly distributed in the ranks. Flanked on either side by infantry was a column of Crucios, Viking walkers, and even a Thor, while dropships circled overhead.
If they were going to assume parade formation so the Science Officer could give a speech, wouldn't it be best delivered before they deployed?
Resplendent in a CMC-400, Doctor Teyknyofille cleared his throat and activated his bullhorn.
"Soldiers of the Dominion! Over there, beyond the horizon, is one of many Hive clusters upon Tarsonis! The enemy is legion, but as you march out to destroy these creatures before they spread to your homeworld, know that you fight with the best that the Dominion has to offer. Our battles were few and hard-won four years ago, but our engineers and scientists have been working night and day to revamp the armory of the Dominion! I myself had a hand-"
In the distance far beyond the Science Officer, the horizon went dark.
Muttering ran through the ranks, and Sergeant Hiner leaned over to Buck. "See that, kid? That's just the Zerglin's."
Involuntarily, Buck gave his suit's waste recyclers a run for their warranty.
Either a lower officer radioed Teyknyofille the news, or his suit had rear view mirrors. Either way, he cut his speech short with a simple "On to victory, fellow soldiers."
"You're sending us out to fight half a billion Zerglings with bayonets and riot shields?"
That stopped Teyknyofille mid-stride. Angrily, he surveyed the assembled infantry, trying to determine who the heckler was.
"The very best," he hissed. "The Dominion has to offer."
On a nearby ridge the Marines came to a halt, in between their heavy armor support and the approaching swarm. Peeking around his shield, Buck was able to make out the green mass in front of the horde. Some sort of new Zerg strain, like a Zergling hatched from an infested McDonalds. When they quit waddling and started rolling, the assembled Marines got over their shock and opened fire.
Behind them, the Crucios and the Vikings began to transform. Halfway through the process, slime erupted out of the ground, jamming the intricate parts and driving home the reason why Autobots and Decepticons avoid open battlefields. A few of the tanks blew up as the operators panicked and tried to fire the big guns at the enemy, but most lived to suffer at the claws of the Zerg.
From a distance, the ground might have resembled boiling water as hundreds of Zerglings, Roaches, and Hydralisks unburrowed. Again, the Vikings tried to take wing, but with half a dozen 'Lings clamped onto their legs apiece, they didn't get far off the ground. To a man, they all died before they could resolve the great debate about whether they were ground units that could fly or aerial units that could walk. Philosophically lost Vikings, one might say.
Amidst the entirely one-sided melee, a Thor strode, having problems of its own.
Quaid, the pilot of the Thor and the most gung-ho of the crew, laughed as the Zerg appeared over the horizon. He called up the targeting software, selected the thickest part of the swarm, and yanked on the lever labeled "250mm Bombardment".
"Hasta la vista, babies," he chortled, a laugh cut short as the wrong thing happened. Rather than the roar of the artillery cannons blazing away, a red light beeped on the console.
"Vat da Hell?"
"Wait," the systems engineer said from his control board. "If you're trying to fire a barrage, it was decommissioned back at the base. In order for the targeting systems to work, you have to zero in on a single target."
"No," the copilot said from behind Quaid. "Last I checked, we're a walking missile turret with arm cannons."
The engineer pointed at the roof. "Those shoulder cannons ain't for show, hot stuff."
The argument was cut short by the roar of four massive blades crushing the lower levels of the Thor.
"Don't worry, boys. We'll be back."
"Actually, sir, I think they removed that too."
Buck could barely hear the orders Hiner was shouting over the roar of the swarm. And the roar of the swarm, the squealing, snarling, hisses, and clicks, were all drowned out by a sound not unlike a million people waving cellophane wrappers about. And that's all the Ling Wings seemed good for. He doubted they'd really help all that much for flight.
He whirled around as Hiner started cursing uncontrollably, and was dumbfounded as the Ultralisk unburrowed behind the Thor, seized it in it's jaws, reared back on it's hind legs, and let go.
"They can burrow underground now..." Hiner breathed, having seen smaller refineries. "No fair!"
They backed up, away from a spearhead of Zerg that had broken through the lines, and collided with another group of Marines doing the exact same thing in the opposite direction.
"Conserve ammo, wait for the gunships to get here!" Teyknyofille shouted from the other side of a Marauder. "And whatever you do, don't shoot the U-"
One of the Marauders missed a Hydralisk. The grenade sailed on by and hit the Ultralisk in the flanks.
"-isk."
The Ultralisk wheeled around and glared at the small island of Terrans who were, somewhat successfully, fending off a large number of Hydralisks and Zerglings.
"Oh," Sergeant Hiner breathed.
The Ultralisk bellowed so loud, the stones beneath their feet rattled. It lowered its head and charged.
"Ffff-" Hiner continued, barely audible over the radio.
Considering how many Zerg had burrowed into the ridge, it wasn't too surprising that it would be riddled with tunnels and cavities. It was still a shock when the ground caved in from the seismic disturbances caused by the Ultralisk's footsteps.
"-Uuuuuuuuuu-"
Before Hiner could get to the final consonant, all the Marines were falling into the darkness, followed by boulders and Zerglings.
"Alright, Buck, you up yet?"
Buck opened his eyes. As near as he could tell, he was lying face down on a pile of rubble, and his faceplate had been all that stood between his forehead and a shard of granite.
A lone Hydralisk needle dropped into sight and rolled down between two rocks.
"That was buried in your radio, bud. Ya might have some trouble, but if yer hearing me now, your radio's fine."
Buck raised a thumb and slowly rolled to his feet.
"Where are we?"
"Under the ridge. Cave-in blocked this tunnel off from the Zerg, so we'll be just fine."
In the near-perfect darkness, with the suit's low-light amplifiers, Buck could make out the other two survivors; a Marauder and Dr. Teyknyofille.
"Everyone but us got slaughtered up there, and everyone but us who fell down here got killed," Sergeant Hiner continued. "I really hope that trend continues."
Teyknyofille beckoned them on. "We've lost contact with the forward base. We'll have to find a way out of this tunnel system, and then make our way to one of the rear bases."
"Wait," Buck interjected. "Why not the forward base?"
Hiner stared at him as if he'd started drooling and banging his head on the floor. "You're kidding, right? They dropped out of contact!"
"What if they're simply having equipment problems?"
"Are you implying," Teyknyofille exclaimed. "That the advanced communications systems of the Dominion, which I myself-"
"Can it, krshhthead," Hiner interjected. "Son, out here, communications problems just mean that ten thousand Zerglings decided to eat out."
"Enough chat," Teyknyofille insisted. "We have to put as much distance between us and the Zerg as possible, as soon as possible."
"You first," Hiner said. "You and that little butter knife of yours. See how many 'Lings you can scare off."
"If you're referring to the combined CQB/Utility/Entrenching tool, which-"
"Fancy name for an itty bitty pocketknife."
"The state of the art from the Dominion's finest manufacturers-"
"You've got me quaking in my boots, and it ain't from awe. Now if you don't want a smaller hole in your head, quit flapping the big one and get moving!" Hiner cocked his rifle for emphasis.
Teyknyofille wisely shut up and trudged down the tunnel, the other three Terrans close behind him.
They heard the Zerg long before they saw it. Or rather, the Zergling.
It was twisting and turning in the darkness of the cave, thrashing about like a rabid dog chasing its own tail. Its tattered wings bore the marks of this pastime.
"What's it doing?" Teyknyofille whispered.
"Tearing its wings off, I imagine," Buck whispered back. "Prob'ly realizes how stupid they look."
Hiner rolled his eyes. "It's a Zerglin' son. It don't have a fashion sense."
He motioned to the Marauder. "I'm going to cap it. When its buddies show up, Cane, wax 'em."
The Sergeant stepped out from behind the boulder and shot the Ling clear through the head. Five seconds passed. Then ten.
Hiner dropped his hand, and Corporal Weste opened fire with both arms. The Punisher grenades flew down the tunnel and detonated, squishing one Ling of an angry dozen.
The Marauder fired a second, longer salvo, and the Lings flew apart like roaches in a food blender. Only, for some odd reason, in slow motion.
"They're climbing up the walls!" Teyknyofille shouted.
Weste turned slightly and swept the walls with explosives, killing and dislodging the Zerglings. The survivors were crushed by boulders.
Looking further up, Buck saw shadows moving on the ceiling. He raised his rifle and hosed the crawlers down.
The Marauder looked where Buck was shooting, raised his arms, and fired a salvo without thinking.
The crawlers hit the ground shortly before the stalactites did. As the cave collapsed around them, Hiner's barbed invectives were drowned out by static and the rumbling of the falling boulders.
Teyknyofille glanced to the left and the right. He'd backpedaled fast enough to avoid the collapse, and his suit's headlights were proving what his low-level vision filters told him.
The way was shut. He'd have to go back and find another way.
He turned, and his heart almost died in his chest. There, nestled between two stalagmites, was a Zergling watching him with beady eyes and glistening teeth.
Teyknyofille fired on it at full auto, and the bullets would've hit home if the Zergling stayed put. It charged instead, going from zero to bat-outa-Hell in the first bound.
At ten meters, Teyknyofille corrected his aim and put three bullets through the Ling's shoulders. At eight meters, a stray bullet smashed the left scythe. At seven meters, the Zergling dodged out of the stream of bullets, losing no forward momentum in the process. The last five meters were covered in a single leap.
Seeing the Zergling flying through the air, with claws, jaws, and scythes extended, wings flapping to give it that little extra in the aerodynamics department, was too much for the good doctor. He closed his yes, protected his faceplate with one arm, and kept firing the C-14 with the other. So he wouldn't have to hear the Ling's triumphant chirping in his final moments, he screamed louder than the average ear, nose and throat doctor believes possible.
The C-14 cycled to a stop to vent heat, and he felt a little extra tug on the rifle. He opened his eyes.
The Zergling was still in the pounce position, but had impaled itself upon the C-14's bayonet. It was mostly as stiff as a mannequin, but the slow opening and closing of its jaws indicated that it was as surprised by this turn of events as Teyknyofille was. The two duelists stared at each other for a few heartbeats before the Zergling started squirming.
"Kyyaaahhh!" Teyknyofille screamed, clamping down on the trigger and letting the little beast have the whole nine yards.
When the echoes of the gunfire died down, the doctor laughed. The bayonets had raised eyebrows, and he'd had to gamble a lot of political capital getting them issued. And here was proof that they could be lifesavers. He started to walk down the tunnel and flicked the rifle.
The Zergling's head lolled back.
Frowning, Teyknyofille shook the gun harder.
The dead Zergling obstinately stayed put.
Teyknyofille whacked the Zergling against a stalagmite.
It danced like a marionette with the strings cut.
Teyknyofille finally lowered the rifle, stepped on the Zergling, and pulled the gun free.
As he continued on his way, the smile vanished from his face. During the commotion, another 49 Zerglings had quietly surrounded him. Now they were watching him, teeth and scythes glinting like light probably does off of well-polished thumbscrews.
"Oh, sh-"
Buck, on the other side of the cave-in, was having Zerg problems of his own. Another lone Zergling was charging him, and the ammo clip just wouldn't fit into the receiver right. In desperation, Buck swung the gun like a bat and threw the Zergling off course. It hit the tunnel wall, rolled to its feet amidst a cascade of pebbles, and hissed.
Buck had barely slammed the fresh clip home when the Zergling suddenly stopped and twisted around to look at its left side. The bayonet on the C-14 had cut the wing clean off, barely leaving a stump.
The Zergling seemed to consider this, then trotted over to Buck. It sat on its haunches before him, extended it's remaining wing, and begged him with deep, soulful eyes to... cut the other wing off?
Buck rolled his eyes and shot it in the head. He must have triggered his stim package without knowing it.
Beside him, Hiner burst out of a pile of rubble.
"Krsshh! That's what Krsshh happens when you Krsshhing hand a Krsshhtard a gun with a caliber higher than his Krsshh IQ, Krsshh it!"
Buck paused. "Sir, I think my radio's busted."
"No time for that. We need ta get to the surface and we need to get there Krsshhing yesterday!"
The two Marines charged down the tunnel. For the longest time, it twisted and turned, finally curving up to the surface.
Private Buck Dewitt and Sergeant Wallace Hiner emerged in the middle of the forward base. It didn't look good, what with half the remaining buildings somewhere along the path to burning down.
"... well, that's about par for the course." Hiner muttered.
They quietly moved through the ghost town of a base. There were no bodies, just the bloodstains where Man and Zerg had fallen, and little pieces the Zerglings had found to be not to their taste.
A Ghost operative, if so inclined, would quietly slip up alongside you, assassinate you with a needle gun, and disappear. There would be no sound, nothing to indicate that he'd been there other than a momentary glimpse and the fact that your trachea and spinal cord were congealing on the inner walls of your CMC.
That is the absolute opposite of what the Reapers do.
Sergeant Hiner's reaction was to bluntly ask "What happened here?"
The squad leader, who had a chest decal that would've made a drunken sailor blush and look away, gestured with his sidearm. "Krsshh it, what's it Krsshhing look like? Buncha Nydus Worms Krsshhing popped out of the Krsshh ground and puked out a horde of 'Lings and 'Lisks. And Krsshh it all, these pea shooters got no Krsshhing balls."
"Wait, don't you Reapers carry mines?"
The Reaper rolled his eyes. "Krsshh engineers got them set up so they'll only go off against buildings. Got one of the Nydus Worms to swallow one, but then the rest just spit them back out."
He glared at the two Marines. "So, what's your sob story, ladies?"
Buck was suddenly and very painfully aware that the Reaper might prefer his Gauss rifle to their P-1000, and take appropriate action. To delay that realization on their part, he pointed across the base and asked "Wait, what's that over there?"
Everyone turned to see a lump of... something crawl up to the barracks and vomit all over it. Even from here, they could count three mouths working together.
"What the..."
"Infested Ultralisk Turds," one of the Reapers intoned, mimicking the UNN Broadcasts. "The very mention of these terrifying beasts once struck fear into all who heard it."
Buck laughed. It was hard to imagine those things striking fear into anything.
"Come in, Command, come in. Can your read me?"
Buck looked over at Sergeant Hiner, who was wandering around looking to get at least four out of five bars on his reception display. "Are you going to tell them about the, uh, turd?"
"The Dominion doesn't waste time on soldiers who've lost their marbles, son. If we call in an' say we're seein' blobs of flesh vomiting on our buildings, do you really think they'll send an evac out for us? Hell, the way our buildings look now, spreading a little vomit over 'em is an improvement."
"They're comin' closer..." one of the Reapers said. Indeed, the blobs had infested what was left of the Barracks and Command Center, and were now working their way through a line of supply depots.
Wordlessly, the Reaper NCO pulled out a mine and threw it at the depot that was being puked upon. The doors to the infested buildings burst open, and scores of infested Marines poured out.
"Oh," the Reaper breathed, too shocked to finish with an appropriate four-letter word.
The infested Marines charged. Apparently, most of them still had their C-14s.
"Krsshh! If you read me, we need some Krsshh air support and an evac, ASAP! We're getting overrun by Zerg infantry!"
From behind a piece of armored bulkhead, which was beginning to wear thin under the onslaught of poison bullets, Buck saw a missile burst out of the Ghost Ops silo, rise half a kilometer, and begin to fall back to the ground with a speed usually reserved for parachutes.
He became acutely aware that the Reapers were no longer there, and Hiner was in the process of doing the same. Never the one to stand out in a crowd, Buck followed suit.
He dodged bullets and spines fired by the assorted Zerg, running past ruined buildings and over burning vehicles, proving that the only thing faster than a live man motivated by a nuclear explosion is a dead man propelled by that same explosion.
His escape was cut short by the perimeter wall, a solid duracrete affair that encircled the base. Instead of blowing a hole through it, the Reapers merely jumped over it.
Sergeant Hiner ground to a halt just short of the wall. As the last jetpack flare disappeared, he cursed the less-than-civic-minded Reapers.
"Oh, you backstabbing Krsshhbites!"
Behind him, the missile finally detonated. A flash brighter than a main sequence star lit up the base, bright enough to be seen through the armor plating of the CMCs. An unyeilding shock wave moved out from the center of the explosion, nuclear fire consuming all in its path, Zerg and building alike.
All Buck and Hiner felt was a gust of hot air.
"Mary, Mother of Gawd..." Hiner breathed. "They spend billions of creds... on bayonets, transforming mechs, and ugly-Krsshh siege tanks... and the nukes still have piss-poor range?"
"Was the Command Center supposed to survive like that?" Buck asked.
"If I meet the people in charge of this circus, I... I... I can't be held responsible for what I'd do."
Buck started to move and Hiner followed, babbling on about blocky buildings and steps taken backward. He was so out of it, he crashed into Buck when Buck stopped and pointed like he'd seen a ghost.
He had.
The two meter tall angel of death, clad in the latest and greatest of Terran technology, an assassin so deadly it took conscious effort to make noise while killing someone, was carefully regarding the two Marines, clearly wondering if they'd been intended to die in the blast, and if he should err on the side of caution, correct that mistake, and call it a day.
Buck knew that he was staring death in the face, but his mouth had missed that memo.
"You're a sec-ops, right? Stealth unit?"
"Yes..." the Ghost answered uncertainly. Having potential prey babble back rather than cower in fear was a new and rather novel experience.
"Then why're you dressed all in white? Zerg could probably see you coming from klicks away."
Even though the Ghost was wearing an Omnoptics visor, Buck got the idea that it was rolling its eyes. Probably something telepathic.
"Survive the purges, put up with resoced meatpuppets..." the Ghost muttered as it turned and walked off through the rubble.
"Sergeant Hiner tapped on Buck's shoulder. "Backup base is thataway, son. Let's go."
They'd been walking for ages. Actually, they'd only been walking for fifteen minutes, minus the time glancing fearfully skyward, to the horizon, at the rocks and crags around them, and at the ground beneath them.
Zerg showed up when you least expected them. The two Marines weren't sure if the contra-positive was true, but they weren't going to take any chances.
Navigation among the low-lying hills was difficult at best, and Hiner finally made the decision to climb a nearby hill to boost radio reception and figure out which direction the fallback base was. And at the crest of that hill, they found the stone monument. Or, rather, what would be a stone monument after time, wind, rain, and several dozen lighting strikes had their say.
Sergeant Hiner ceased his attempts to hail Command, enthralled by the majesty of the rubble. The individual chunks looked like ordinary metallic ore, but there were conduits or wires or something running through them in a way that defied explanation. And the runes carved into some of the faces seemed like they were shifting, though careful analysis revealed that they weren't. Clearly, it was the work of an advanced species who had devoted precious time and resources into such appearances.
Buck frowned, reaching out to pick up one of the rocks. The stone hummed and flashed. The flash rippled through the rest of the rubble, and the air buzzed with a blue aura.
Each individual rock lifted into the air and floated to a mound in front of Buck as if carried by a legion of ghostly masons. The two Marines stood speechless, enraptured by the spectacle of a large alien monolith assembling itself. When the last tumbling block floated into place, the humming died with a silence that was more felt than heard.
"What the Hell?" yelled a voice inside Buck's helmet. If Buck didn't know better, he'd swear the guy was standing right next to him.
"Hello? Is this Command?"
"Yeah, this is One-Lambda over at Krsshh Base. What's going-"
"I'm sorry," Buck apologized. "Which base?"
"Krsshh Base. You know, opposite of white, Krsshh."
"OK, so, is something wrong over there?"
"Nothing's wrong, no," the dispatcher said. "Only, when you radioed in, some huge map of your surrounding area popped up on my computer. What the Hell are you guys doing down there?"
Buck looked over at Hiner. "Eh, just touching this alien looking tower thingy..."
After a long period of silence, the dispatcher replied. "O-kay, then. Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. You're feeding us some valuable intel here... Hey, Maurice! Get a load of this!"
Behind Buck, Sergeant Hiner smiled, gazing up at the tower sheathed in blue light.
"An alien tower beaming a map to Command because we're standing here... Dumb as all Hell, but it just might get us that evac," he said, grinning.
Buck returned the grin as he heard a muted swoosh of a swivel chair over his radio. A muffled voice, presumably Maurice, laughed.
"Holy Krsshh that's a lot of Zerglings!"
The smile slowly ebbed from Buck's face. "I'm sorry, what was that last?"
"Nothing, we were looking at a different screen. Hold your position."
"Hey, Jack," Maurice said. "Five creds says they don't make it!"
With a small squeal of fear, Buck dropped the rock and hefted his C-14. The chattering of the two sociopathic techies was replaced by a tremor, a slight shiver in the ground caused by the gently pattering feet of ten thousand bloodthirsty Zerglings.
Buck and Hiner turned and ran like Hell for a cliff in the distance, vaulting over boulders and dodging falling bits of monument on the way out. From here, Buck could see plumes of smoke rising from the cliff, lonely remainders of a Terran defensive line. Already, they were passing over craters and potholes created by Zerg marching through a minefield and into the firing range of a battery of Siege Tanks. It hadn't been enough.
Buck turned around to see how close the second wave was. What he saw was a sea of Zerg that darkened the sky and blotted out the land, advancing as uniformly as a tidal wave. The exception were the Zerg immediately behind the two Terrans, who had broken ranks and closed to within twenty meters, the smell of fresh meat galvanizing them into giving that little extra effort.
The question of how they intended to scale the cliff was answered by a trail that disappeared around a boulder. One of dozens of such paths ran up and down the cliff, providing access to the top of the plateau. Dodging past smoldering hulks half-eaten by acid, they leaped onto the trail and ran up it single file.
"Hey, you guys need a helping hand?" a voice asked over the radio.
Buck glanced up and saw what looked like a flying shipyard with "The Bentusi" painted on one side.
"Whatever you've got, do it now!" Hiner shouted back.
The Nomad flew over the cliff, and drones were ejected from the busy machinery. When they hit the ground, they unfolded and set up, some becoming stationary Gatling turrets, others deploying mines. The Zerg wave parted, moving out of the gun's field of fire or dying in the attempt.
The respite lasted for a few seconds, long enough for the Zerglings to regroup and surge forth, providing cover for Banelings to get close enough to slag the turrets.
"Okay, handyman, got anything else?" Hiner asked, not even bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
"Th' names Blagin, just so you know," the Nomad pilot replied. "And it wasn't meant to stop the Zerg, only slow them down. Keep running, I think I've got a better solution to your little problem."
The Nomad's machinery spun into a frenzy as Buck watched, and a perfectly contoured plug of neosteel dropped from the aircraft. It fell onto the path where there were high walls on both sides, and fit like a round peg in a round hole. If Buck hadn't watched it fall into place, he would've sworn a team of engineers had poured it into place like a slab of concrete.
"That oughta slow them for a few minutes," Blagin continued. "Incidentally, I'll be right back."
The Nomad turned tail and disappeared over the top of the cliff, closely pursued by a flock of Mutalisks.
Hiner rapped Buck on the shoulder and pulled him up the trail. After thirty seconds of running, they reached an open spot on the cliff and dodged around a Firebat, who saturated the path behind them with plasma fire.
The Zerg pulled back, unable to push through a narrow pass covered by a Firebat and a squad of Marines.
"Glad to see you made it, boys," the Firebat drawled. "Name's Sergeant G. P. Foreman. Wish I could of set up a better welcome party, but we're down to the reserves here."
"Yeah," Buck breathed, somewhat surprised to see a Firebat. "I thought you Firebats weren't being deployed."
"Well, that's the thing," Foreman muttered. "First, they say we ain't goin'. Then they say we're goin' down with ev'ryone else. Then they say we ain't. Then we're bein' deployed from the factories. I just said 'screw it' and came down here anyways."
'Yeah, now I remember," Buck said. "They were going to save you guys for the main offensive."
"Whatever," Foreman turned to address the survivors. "Pack up, people, we're fallin' back. Ah want all'ya covering each others backs and keep an eye out fer those Banglisks or whatever we're calling 'em. And Patschetsky, you're on overwatch. Keep an eye on the sky."
A Marine with a rocket launcher saluted, and was taken completely by surprise when a Mutalisk swooped down and nabbed him.
Foreman ran over, picked up the rocket launcher, sighted on the Mutalisk, and opened fire. The Mutalisk and the Marine, who was still too deep in shock to relax his salute, disappeared in a ball of flame and orange gibs.
"Whoa!" Buck exclaimed. "Neat gun!"
"Napalm rockets," Foreman explained, crossing his chest for Patschetsky. "Currently locked in d'velopment hell."
"The best stuff always is," Hiner said.
"OK, I'm back," Blagin called over the radio. "What can I do for y'all?"
"Whatever you can, Blagin! They ain't scaling the cliffs yet, but we can't hold them off any longer."
The Raven that Blagin had brought back from the base roared overhead, and a dozen small drones were launched. The drones fell, stabilized, and hung in the air, slowly humming.
"Alright, that oughta turn the tide in your favor, Hiner. Turn around and wax them critters!"
Half of the drones marked the individual Zerg with lasers, and Buck found his suit's targeting system was locking on and making aiming easier.
The Zerg, pouring in through a dozen ravines and crags, found their advance slowed to a halt as successive waves were culled by rapid-fire headshots. The Hydralisks that fired back found their shots blocked by laser fire from the other drones.
"Those drones won't last forever!" Foreman shouted. "Everyone prepare to fall back! Blagin, cover our exit!"
Blagin wasn't there, although a trio of Corruptors flying overhead gave a good indication of which way he'd gone.
"Retreat!" Foreman screamed. The remaining Terrans took off, racing up another path. After winding precariously close to a half-kilometer drop, the path terminated in a dead-end cliff about halfway up the side of the plateau. It was nice, offered a scenic view, was large enough to park a camping trailer on, and had no way out other than the path they'd just come up.
Buck tried to wrap his head around his predicament. Ravening Zerg on one side, an impossible drop on the other side, terminating amidst a sea of equally ravening Zerg. It was a hard choice.
"You Krsshhing jackKrsshh!" Hiner shouted at Foreman. "You've gone and got us trapped!"
"That's not possible... we scouted out fallback points and every-"
"Lurkers!"
The Terrans wheeled about to face another Zerg spearhead. Indeed, mixed amongst the Zerglings and Roaches were a trio of Lurkers. With a wall of chitin and venomous blades between them and the Lurkers, the Terrans were helpless as the beasts dug into the ground.
Three rows of spikes burst from the ground, converging upon Buck. He didn't have enough time to dodge, only enough to close his eyes and scream in terror as the waves of spines as tall as he was chewed up the rocks before him.
He screamed for a long time until he realized that he was still alive. He peeked one eye open and realized that, if he had stepped forward just once, he would've been skewered.
"Wait," Hiner said after he swung the last Zergling over the edge. "Did the Lurkers just... disappear?"
"I'm not complaining," Foreman said. "Alright, people, they're massing fer another attack. Check yer ammo and start stacking bodies!"
They had scarcely stacked three Roaches upon each other and skewered them together with a Lurker spine when the Zerg charged once more. Their attempt to regroup and charge en mass was proven laughably useless when a drone flew into their midst and swept them off the cliff with a thunderous explosion.
"Not a moment too soon, Blagin!" Foreman crowed.
"Hell yeah!" Blagin answered over the radio as the Nighthawk fired a second drone at an incoming flock of Mutalisks. "I'm piloting this bad boy from the infirmary, and nothing the Zerg have can touch him! Hold tight for a minute, and I'll get ya outta there!"
General Albany glowered at the tactical display in the bridge of his Command Battlecruiser. Too much had gone wrong in the past hour, and now that the Zerg were in a perfect place for a Terran counterattack, it was doubtful that he could muster enough troops in time. But as he analyzed the swarm, mashed up against the walls of the plateau where the Terrans had set up base-camp, his Adjutant interrupted him.
"Sir, long-range scanners have detected an unidentified flying unit in Sector 49. Radar cross-section matches that of an Arbiter-class vessel 49. It appears to be unescorted."
A red X-shaped symbol appeared over the edge of the plateau on the tac-map, where the Zerg were trying to force their legions through narrow passageways. An entire armada could be hiding within the cloaking field of the Arbiter, and the Terrans wouldn't know it until it was too late.
"Warm up the Yamato Gun," the general ordered. "We'll blow that Arbiter out of the sky, drop the stealth field, and let the Zerg deal with the escort."
"Yes, sir," the Adjutant said. "Priming nuclear device... engaging containment fields... initiating thermonuclear reaction..."
The tension grew on the bridge as every crew member paused to follow the process of firing The Big Gun.
"Radiation leakage in check... neutron emissions nominal... guidance and trajectory computed. Yamato gun is ready to discharge, sir."
General Albany drew himself up to his full height and took a slow, somber breath.
"Fire."
"Alright, boys, I've got a path to the top charted," Blagin reported. "I'll clear the way, and you guys push through anything I might have mi-"
That last word was drowned out as a torrent of nuclear fire engulfed the Nighthawk like a rock in the middle of a river.
After a few moments of silence, after the roar died down, Hiner spoke up.
"God hates us."
"Alright, Marines," Foreman said wearily. "Get back to stacking bodies. Hiner, try and get Command on the horn."
Buck crouched down behind a dead Roach and checked his ammo. Barely enough.
"Command. Come in Command. This is Sergeant Wallace Hiner rep-"
The Zerg charged up the path once more, faster now that the Hunter-Seeker Missiles had blown the path wider. The Terrans fired back, but this time there were fewer human soldiers and more Zerg.
"Hello? Command? This is Sergeant Hiner. We need air support at-"
A Zergling leaped out of the melee and bore down on Buck.
"No, no, Hiner! Are we going to get that air support or what?"
Buck skewered the Zergling and tossed it over the cliff. Momentum combined with the bayonet being stuck in the critter conspired to rip the C-14 out of his grasp.
"Air Support! Vikings, Banshees, Wraiths, whatever the Hell you can-"
Weaponless, Buck ducked down behind the corpse of a Roach. A spine meant for him went through the faceplate of the Marine behind him.
"What's our situation? You wanna know our situation? WE are Krsshh-ed UP beyond ALL Krsshh-ing RECOGNITION! WE'RE FIGHTING WITH OUR BACKS TO THE WALL HERE, AND IF WE DON'T GET THAT GOD-Krsshh AIR SUPPORT, WE'RE GOING TO DIE OUT HERE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
Buck picked up the C-14 dropped by the dead Marine, and groaned as he found that the ammo counter read '000'.
"PUTTING ME ON KrsshhING HOLD? WHAT THE Krsshh DO YOU Krsshhing MEAN?"
It was at this time that Foreman found the rocket launcher under a pile of bodies and proceeded to kick ass. The rock walls on either side of the path caved in from the blasts, blocking the Zerg's advance temporarily.
"Empty," Hiner said, holding up his gun, a fact echoed by most of the other Marines.
"Are they sending air support?"
"No, they're leaving us out to dry."
"Well, in that case," Foreman said, extending his hand. "It was good fighting alongside you."
Hiner groaned. "Wish I could say the same thing."
"What? Oh, come on! It was a mistake!"
"We're trapped like rats, even if it was a mistake."
"Not my fault! My scout said 'Right right left to get back up the cliff!'"
"Then why did we go 'Right, left, left'?"
"No, we went..." Foreman trailed off, and then started laughing.
After a few moments, everyone but Buck joined him, and a few of the Marines ran over to the edge of the cliff and emptied their C-14s into the Swarm. They were even cheering.
"Wait, what?" Buck asked. "I don't understand wh-"
Sergeant Hiner reached over and whacked him in the back. Something in his radio clicked, and all noise was drowned out in the music.
"-DUN DA DADA DA DAH! DUH DUN DA DAH-"
Scores of Vikings flew over the cliff and engaged the Overlords, easily outranging the Mutalisks with their missiles. Losses were heavy on both sides, the Vikings outnumbered, the Overlords and Mutalisks outranged, but it got better.
Something invisible, or a lot of somethings, whooshed overhead. Hydralisks and Mutalisks converged upon the phantom gunships, but they were fighting shadows. Shadows that could shoot back. And scarcely had the first Banshee succumbed to enemy fire when a hundred thunderclaps split the Swarm asunder. Even Hiner cheered at the carnage; it might have been a different sort of 'boom', but the results were that of a true Siege Tank.
Rockets and missiles flew. Bullets whistled through the air. Hellions skirted the edge of the Swarm, teasing and blocking counterattacks. Crucio bombardment and Yamato blasts cut the heart out of the swarm, targeting the Ultralisks and similar ground-bound nasties. The Terrans were winning, not by fancy new tech or flashy gizmos, but by the tried and true tactic of planting themselves at Point A and inundating Point B with a deluge of HE, AP and DU.
Parts of the Swarm regrouped, and though much of it had been blown into hamburger and hot sauce, it still made a deadly attempt to seize the advantage once more. The Hydralisks spread out to provide better air cover, and more Nydus Worms burst from the ground.
It didn't matter. The Terran air support withdrew back over the cliff, and the Hellions turned tail and ran. It wasn't a retreat, it was a crescendo, heralding the glorious climax. The Marines cheered even louder in anticipation.
"Nuclear Launch Detected."
Three suns bloomed over the Swarm. Zerg were flash baked and crumbled to ash as the shock waves hit them. A maelstrom of hellfire and lightning bloomed in the center of the three nuclear explosions, more beautiful than anything the Marines had ever seen.
To a man, they cheered and laughed, ignoring the sound of the approaching dropships.
They had survived.
They were Terrans.
They were Marines.
They were Krschhing invincible.
Down amongst the craters, amongst the dead bodies and calcified skeletons, there was movement. A lone Zergling clawed its way out from underneath the remains of an Ultralisk skull, hissing and snapping at the falling ash. Unseen by Terrans, it crawled up one of the Ultralisk's tusks and shrieked at the victors, promising that the Swarm had not been defeated, that the March of Evolution could not be denied for long. It paused momentarily as its eyes caught something. A second look confirmed its suspicions, and then it was off, bounding through the fires and the skeletons of its genetic siblings. It danced and leaped with endless joy, as only a doglike quadruped could.
It had much to celebrate. For when the nukes fell, its wings had been burned off.
A/N: Yeah, yeah, it's a month later than I promised it would be, though I have some good reasons for that. Namely, had I released this fic when I intended to, my target audience would have been engrossed in playing StarCraft II, and too busy to read this. Additionally, I decided not to release it because my Limited Edition hadn't arrived yet (And it never did. I eventually caved in and bought the normal edition)
And finally... this simply hadn't been typed up yet. The way my track record is, you would think that I would have learned not to make promises about release dates.
Anyhow, this fic has quite the history, with ideas for it dating back to about mid-2008. It was supposed to complain about all the new stuff that had been added to StarCraft II, and I never got around to typing it up, as I learned to stop worrying and love the changes. I guess I was a bit like Sergeant Wallace Hiner. But there's a lot of people out there who were Wallace Hiners, and that's a good thing. If it weren't for all us W. Hiners, StarCraft II just might not have been as good of a game.
You never know.
PS: Has anybody else noticed that the word filter in SCII multiplayer censors the word "Black"? Or at least it did in beta...