At high noon, a gleaming city rose at the center of the world, it's citizens about their business. They stood vacantly amongst one another, trying nervously not to notice one another or be noticed, as they held their portfolios and purses on the crowded transit. The camaraderie they shared three weeks ago had mercifully vanished, and the memories of standing numb on the streets looking up as their common destiny was laid out before them by a dry news anchor would remain bottled up until another sadness might uncover it in a lonesome night. Men had sat rigidly in their homes slowly rubbing the shoulders of their families until enough bald talking heads had convinced them to resume their lives, and that they were part of a cosmic process no more unusual than a sneeze. The meteorite, you see, though hollowed out by sentient life and hurled through the void to wreck havoc, was only a distraction. The nefarious Zerg were on the run, hunted down by the stalwart Dominion, and out of desperation threw themselves in many directions, hoping to buy themselves time as they fled back to their lairs.
Such was the ordinary scene that Intelligence Officer Igor Adams viewed from his full window, his arms taut behind his back, listening to Colonel Gainey explain his perfect plan to play exterminator at ground zero. Gainey continued to execute the plan over with his fingers sweeping over his tablet computer. Adams found it adorable that the grumpy man might actually have a legitimate reason be arrogant, and did his best to humor his colleague.
"The brilliance of this plan, really, is that we've exploited the topography to a degree never before attempted against this type of enemy. We've identified mesas to make our castles, streams and gorges our kill zones, and passes to squeeze so they have nowhere to run. The original Zerg from the meteorite may think we have forgotten about them, and they may be spawning more of themselves, biding their time, but if they think they can walk right in and take this world, they have another thing coming!" His fist slammed down on the desk, then slowly unfurled. "Waiting for the patrol to arrive from out of system was unfortunate, but it affords us the opportunity to do this cleanly," Gainey lectured to the back of a blue suit jacket. "I can assure you a textbook operation, Mr. Adams. So, can I count on the governor's approval for the plan?"
Adams finally turned around, the criss-cross of vaunting skyscrapers contrasting unpleasantly with the sprawling Colonel who had laid his files across the desk and himself across and beyond what most would have considered an ample chair. "We have no doubt that this plan is just what is needed to bring peace of mind back to the people, Colonel. As soon as you can sign off an appropriate allocation for our own mission, we can green-light the entire operation."
The plot thickens, he thought. He should have expected as much, and fought to hold back a sigh. "Is this really the best time to…" he waved his hand up and down, "do your thing? This is the most serious military deployment in the planet's history. I'd rather not… divide our efforts." He was used to spooks grabbing his men for hoopla and whatnot, but had honestly not believed his opposite number would have the gall to distract him in his finest hour.
"It is quite necessary, I assure you." Adams sat down and conjured a classified dossier from the depths of the desks memory banks, a translucent blue hologram suspended itself in midair, mimicking a vintage notebook opening itself to the correct page. "Samir Duran was a Lieutenant in the Confederate Air Service. He is officially MIA, but, unofficially, his likeness has been associated with a wide range of subversive activities," Gainey sat impressed at the list that flipped by. "He doesn't seem to have a dedicated organization yet, but we know he's trouble, and stopping something like this in its infancy is a chance we rarely get. We don't have anything concrete, of course, but enough that we would like to ask him a few questions."
"We would be happy to fly your boys in to wherever you're going." Gainey said each word slowly and wondered why this man wasn't replaced by a few memos.
"Were it so easy," Adams smiled. "As it stands, the latest chatter puts him here committing God know what treason, in an unlicensed mining facility that you yourself so conveniently earmarked as the southern operational zone boundary. Colonel, I need your forces to seize the facility, find Duran, and bring him back alive." They made eye contact. "My men aren't as well suited to the elements as your defenders of freedom are. We weren't able to determine conclusively the operations of this facility in particular, but based on the buyers, it could be anyone, and I want soldiers there who are prepared for anything."
The man across the desk face scrunched up in thought. "Captain Cooley has our flank there in case of a contingency situation. He should be able to spare a few marines in the name of justice. In fact, it might just help morale, to know that as the planetary defense force's main column advances onward, backed up by Dominion regulars to assault the infestation, while our reserves maintain the order within." His eyes shifted out towards the windows and defocused on the horizon. "Yes, I rather like that."
They both rose with confidence. "Mr. Adams, you can tell the governor that my men are ready to defend the Dominion against all threats." They both shook hands. "In forty-eight hours time, our humble world will be a much safer place."
Eighteen hours later, tanks shook the ground miles away from the meteorite's landing site and made the pebbles littering the ground dance and chatter with excitement. Marines in power armor walked at a leisurely pace aside, and armored hover bikes raced up and down the sides, alternately probing the surrounding terrain eagerly ready to scream that they had met the enemy or hollering at their comrades that they were "in it now."
Colonel Gainey popped the hatch from his lead tank and stuck his head through, oversized goggles tempering his masterful vision. He bobbled back and forth with the uneven treads, but his real design was not to breathe the fresh air his crew chief so pined for, but to make sure no camera from his command console caught his smile and utmost joy at the coming combat. The Dominion patrol forces would arrive at their respective positions in due time, and they would spiral inwards toward the enemy, careful to leave his troops the honor of engagement. Everything was going according to plan, on schedule, and he couldn't help his amusement observing that the weather was exceptionally pleasant, which only widened his grin. On this day, he vowed nobly, first blood would be his.
All this however, was only so many dots to Captain Cooley, who was just as ignorant of the army's majesty as was Sergeant Cheng that now stood in his command post of the southern containment line.
"Sir, I don't think I quite understand, do we have a layout of this place or not?" Cheng was slightly embarrassed to be so confounded in the presence of many smart, technically proficient specialists attending to their own logistical duties, and was involuntarily reminded of a similar incident involving long division.
"Specialist Tye, who will be accompanying you the entire way," Cooley patronized, "was only able to find limited info on the facilities' design, not a traditional schematic. You two will be working together, so I think it's best if he explains further." And with that, Cooley went back to the eternal struggle of requisitioning supply runs for more ammo and better fortifications.
Cheng didn't like to be talked down to, but at least he was getting closer to the action, he reasoned. He trusted his men, Horowitz, Owens, Fletcher, Lynch, Tran, Po, and Lunsford, to watch out for him. It seemed that they had been together, brothers, for years. If there were anywhere he felt safe, it would be with them. He remembered fondly their last exercise in February, before hell had broken loose. It had been as close to perfection as any man had a right to expect. They had covered one another and advanced up the field, through the enemy up the ramp to the flag like lightning. The enemy may have seen a flash, but was really left with a roar in their ears, as shouting officers demanded answers and explanations, but would tolerate none. Yes, Cheng thought, they were ready.
"I'm sorry about the Lieutenant, Sergeant," Tye said, lifting the flap of the large tent for Cheng exit through first, leading the way to the beginning of their mission. They entered a red land of dust. The tent was perched on the outer edge of a tall shelf overlooking half the defenses that would halt any Zerg effort to break out in this direction from the noose so painstakingly prepared for them. Junior officers barked orders, arranging their grunts behind boulders, their fields of fire placed to be redundant and robust, facing the dirt roads winding out of thick forests. Along the mesas, dropships worked to place artillery just so on isolated terrain that promised to remain untouched throughout battle. Sappers worked in the canyon, preparing the overhanging rocks for the worst. If any sizeable force was going to try and escape, it would be through here, up the walls of the ridge, and through the canyon.
It was magnificent, as Cheng took it all in, and he almost began to feel remorse that he had volunteered his squad to dive below into the unknown. Tye, however, snapped him back to reality.
"Don't feel bad, I don't quite understand it either. Assuming it's not just a fluke, whoever's in there had the compunction to delete all logs from at least every periphery access terminal to the point where the janitor wouldn't know how many service bots to activate for each floor. What bugs me though, is what I did find. The only system sucking power is labeled security, which I take to mean the usual trouble." Cheng began to feel the weight on his shoulders heavy. "Ya, I know. Apparently these miners didn't operate in the usual channels, so who knows what they were preparing for? But we got the doors and lights hooked up to our generators, and were able to extrapolate from the power usage junctions and lines, so we should know where the major thoroughfares are." Tye looked up and to the side. "Or at least the dangerous ones."
Sergeant Cheng sighed and gathered his thoughts. Unknown hostiles, unknown civilians, and unknown layout. They had reached their destination. Already his men had assembled smartly in a line; their high-powered gauss rifles rested slightly askew outward from their alert postures, each looking to him for direction. They had been equipped with the latest model of power armor available, curving between their joints, raising their shoulders, and aiding their movements, adding a five-inch layer to all but their thinly shielded hands and head, suggesting the appearance of cyborg body-builders. But a colonial marine was nothing to laugh at.
Their backs were to a shallow ravine in which the entrance had been hidden from satellites, its seal torn and the remnant of its doors charred. He ordered them to move in, and their roar of approval and harmless seven-foot fall gave them enough confidence enough to paper over and misgivings. Behind them, two more squads followed, ready to cover their flanks. One thing the first recon patrol had been able to surmise with some confidence was the relative width of the installation. Chengs' squad would pierce down the middle while Dingman's and Powell's squads would follow on the sides. This was Cheng's design, and he was proud that Cooley had recognized it's advantages, even though it meant less men under his direct control, which Cheng had surmised was the judging criterion of most of his commanding officers. It afforded the traditional maneuverability of one squad plus the safety of numbers. If an enemy slipped through their lines, they would quickly find themselves surrounded, but there was still little chance of the marines crowding one another out.
The lobby seemed normal enough, and the front desk didn't need a receptionist for them to begin down the main hall. Sure enough, the manager's offices and bathrooms were all well lit and stared back at the intruders stupefied and lonesome. They turned again, and again, and Private First Class Edwin Po began to wonder whether he had escaped his previous life at all. But when they had turned another corner and saw the gaping maw of blast doors sheared out, everyone remembered their purpose, and listened to the echoes of their footfalls become louder and louder. Lunsford and Tran ran through, whipped their raised rifles back and forth, signaled the all-clear, and kneeled prone as the rest galloped behind them.
Cheng saluted Dingman and Powell as their men parted in opposite ways. "Good luck. Do as we plan, keep in contact, and we'll be out of this with no trouble at all. Tye! Is here a good place?"
He looked around thoughtfully, his hands on his hips. "This will do." Tye wore a more primitive vest of reinforced Kevlar and carried an overstuffed satchel bag. His "bag of tricks" as he had called it. Now, he took out a pronged, bulbous Breadcrumb transponder and planted its feet high on a wall, waiting to relay messages from their expedition back topside. As the tech, he would make sure they kept a strong signal, and put up another one before any static could interfere. A steady green strobe began, and Tye gave Cheng a thumbs-up.
"Right, then. Enough procrastinating. Tran, you have point."
Tran ran up ahead to the next cross-section and peered slowly around each corner, somehow reasoning that the monster he told himself was there would somehow be less dangerous if he just looked slower. The rest of the squad walked much more peacefully thirty feet behind, at ease to let their rifles rest from the sling around their shoulders. It was not roomy, by any means, but Owens was comfortable enough to lose himself in the raised blue tiling of the walls, the bulbs behind the tops of each side indirectly providing a dull, sterile atmosphere that soothed his nerves. All they passed were living quarters, storage, and mess rooms. He could live with that.
After ten minutes Cheng checked his HUD on the inside of his visor. A quick twitch of the neck to the left brought up frayed map being filled in by him and his backup, rotating in the path of the base of a cone towards a point, providing the sensation of three dimensions. Red nodes ahead of his position signaled where security traps were estimated to be. "Keep an eye out, Tran. I'm seeing danger on the radar twenty feet to the right of the next junction."
Immediately, Tran's footsteps slowed, and the bulky steel tips of his boots touched down softly after his heels as he crept along. He planted his back along the corner, exhaled unevenly, and reached for a spherical sensor drone. He tossed it awkwardly around the corner with his far hand and waited for it's feed to appear on his visor. Its roll began to slow and pop-out fins tipped it back to cradle it by four corners. After rotating the camera in the upper half of its body three hundred sixty degrees to prove it's safety, it's fins retracted and an internal gyroscope guided its weights forward, gathering momentum.
Then it was in the air, and Tran held his breath. At first the drone sent back chaos, then it slowed, until it lay at the apex of its path floating serenely near the ceiling, rotating leisurely. When the rest of the squad tensed at the sound of gunfire, raising their weapons slightly, the probe was no more, and neither Tran nor it had seen the face of it's murderer.
"Hostile."
"Thank you, Tran…"
A concealed 30-cal, most likely. Cheng had been watching the feed from behind; adrenaline and logic coursed through his head. If the probe had been propelled upward so fast, then it was most likely a pop-up defense mechanism, meaning it was multi-directional.
Cheng checked his map. They would have to break through the line of dots somewhere. "Flanking it is out of the question. Fletcher, prep your grenades and come with me." He did likewise and they met at the corner. "It can only bring to bear one of its guns in this direction. That means as long as we stay within a ninety-degree arc, all but one of us will be safe." Without another word he ripped a panel from the wall and flung it through the threatening hallway. The turret groaned and shot it out of the air, shattering it as easily as a clay disc. He lunged in two strides across the gap to the next wall, the gun having only a moment to target him, and landing only a glancing blow on the side of his elbow.
Tran and Fletcher stood motionless in disbelief. The turret fired impotently into the wall behind where he was standing, chipping off debris, before giving up.
His back leaned against the corner, his head turning and visor momentarily lifting to speak. "That was the hard part. Now ready your fire. As soon as you hear my grenade, duck out of cover, fire, and the threat should be neutralized." Fletcher nodded and checked his gun.
As the smoke cleared from their handiwork and the squad progressed, Dingman chimed in from the left. "Is everything all right over there?"
"Just fine sergeant. Anything unusual on your end?"
"Nothing unexpected. Except…well, we came across a supply room, but it seems cleared out and ruffed up. Rather hasty-like. Not like the others at all."
Well that was unusual, Cheng thought to himself. Although he wasn't exactly sure what normal was down here. Every room was neat and tidy, certainly not the type of self-discipline he would expect from underground economy miners. In fact, except for the unmade bunks, this would pass inspection at the barracks.
"I see. Stay alert, and keep me updated."
"Understood."
Cheng noticed that the other two squads seemed to be inching ahead of his. He rolled his eyes. Unconsciously, they had been slowing down to keep their distance behind Tran's slackening pace, whose nerves had taken quite a beating today.
Oh well, I guess that's enough training for one day. "Owens, swap out with Tran, will ya?"
Tran retreated quickly back into formation next to Tye.
"So, will I have to dump the on-board sanitation tank, or are you one of those bowels-freeze-up with terror guys?"
Horowitz gave a hearty laugh and pushed Tran ahead of him. His armored gauntlet's force was multiplied to the point where Tran almost lost his footing. Horowitz only joined in with a deeper voice and slower tempo.
"Shape up, you two. We're not omnipotent, and I don't want to be surprised because your stupid lit-"
A roar sounded ahead of them, and then, like a firecracker, a rocket of mostly smoke and sparks zoomed by in the in the next hallway, only ten feet ahead of them. The small tin and pop of a far away neutralized turret sounded to their left, but it didn't drown out the scream from Powell's squad.
Surreal, Owens thought to himself. He stared at the calm blue tiles wistfully. What the hell is going on here?
"Report." Cheng intoned glumly.
"Rueben's down. It got him through the heart."
"Threat neutralized.. It…wasn't on the map," Dingman said.
Regrettable, Cheng thought to himself. That mistake didn't have to happen. Men didn't have to die to automatic turrets.
Po kept blinking. He couldn't remember exactly what happened, only that one instant burned into his eyes. There was a fire burning past him, propelled on a burning star. It didn't sound like an enemy. It sounded like celebrations with his family on Independence Day. The darkness retreated as his eyes adjusted back and the cold gray panels continued to march forward on all sides of him.
"We're here," Owens marveled. While the rest had waited, Owens had already turned the corner. "It's an elevator, probably to deeper in the complex."
Cheng put a hand on his shoulder, staring at the circular room that would descend them further to their goal. "Not just deeper in, but to where the action is, where ore is to be got." He began to look at the control panel for the caged octagonal room, lit up brightly on each corner, tapping away quickly. "We haven't seen anything resembling a control center yet, either, so it must be closer to the actual mines. That's the safest place to be down here if you're trying to hole up. Well, it was. Then we got here." The rest of his squad looked eager, ready to fight an enemy with a face. They filed into the elevator evenly, as a loud beep indicated that their leader had found the correct interface sequence to lead them forward.
"We're seeing the same thing over here, Sergeant. What would you have us do?"
"Come on down." Yellow sirens rolled menacingly around the bulkhead doors, hissing shut as the elevator activated. "We're finding Duran."
Over the map in Captain Cooley's command post, the movement of dots remained predictable and nonthreatening. Which was perfect for Captain Cooley, because he could never enjoy his lemonade when he was nervous. He always ended up gulping it down, leaving only tartness.
Shoulders arched back, arms hung at the side; his staff was content to listen to the battle cries and jeers of bloodbath and victory.
"The enemy is fleeing, Captain Gainey," the radio crackled aloud in the tent. "We've broken their back! Pursue and destroy, they have nowhere to run!" Captain Gainey ordered.
An audible sigh of relief emanated from everyone in the room.
"We may have to deal with some of the stragglers, sir," Corporal Tanner reminded him.
Captain Cooley was visibly pained by this. He leaned forward in his chair at the central table, his spine convulsing away from the sniveling voice. His eyes squinted shut, and his face fell into his hands, staring blankly forward. "You had to say that, didn't you? You though me a dullard and incompetent," he mocked, "and sought to destroy the collective feeling of success permeating this… community of excellence," he motioned to everyone else, "why?" Now he looked up, pleadingly, his hands steepled for prayer, shaking at each syllable, "Why do you seek to counteract all of my emotions with their opposite?"
Tanner looked lost and afraid, fidgeting his hands and pushing up his glasses nervously. Others chuckled. Captain Cooley had a tendency to become manic-depressive during stressful times, and most people learned to function on the same wavelength as his. But not Tanner, who showed great proficiency in all he set his mind to, except remaining in the obscurity he so desired.. Cooley could tolerate differences of his opinion in his command, but he was at a loss for how a constant thorn in his side, that so happened to be a friend's son-in-law.
Breaking the captain's marvelous stare and Tanner's sweaty shuffle, Corporal Chiba spoke up, "Sir, a large force seems to be heading our way."
Cooley's head snapped back to the changing map before him. Indeed, the enemy had no discernible center, but it was quite clear that the splintered group coming their way was about three times bigger and about five times more directed than any of the others. He stood for a moment, thinking, isolating from the clamor in the tent., covering his eyes from the harsh, uneven light with one hand.
"I still don't like you Tanner. Now get back to work."
Tanner scurried back to his papers in an inconvenient corner of the tent.
The communications, tactical, and logistical NCOs all looked towards Cooley, waiting for their orders. His hand rubbed his hair, then chin, before planting both on the desk and staring once more at the map.
"Gainey can't help us out there, his troops are already committed and I don't think he could marshal them if he wanted to," he spoke very softly. Already the red dots outpaced the blue, racing towards him. "Call in the air support, we need to slow them down."
He kept staring, but it didn't help. Why were the Zerg massing here, now, after they were broken? Captain Cooley was more than puzzled now, he was scared.
"Stalagmites, you see," Tye explained, "are upright, while stalactites, are not upright."
"That doesn't help at all," Lunsford said, exasperated. "Either you don't understand the concept of mnemonic devices, or you're an idiot. Either way I hate you."
The three squads progressed down a large cavern, at least fifty yards tall, moist and dewy from fresh earth. They followed the tracks of the carts that no one was running. They passed the drills, assemblies, ironworks, forges, and explosives that no one was using. The brown earth tugged around them, their spotlights in a losing battle with the void.
"This all looks very expensive, Sarge. Why would anyone leave so much equipment behind?"
"They left their personal effects, also," Po said. Everyone was a bit ashamed to admit to themselves that they had forgotten he was there, but they now appreciated that he would observe such an oddity. "We should see them, their bodies, no personal effects, no equipment, or some evidence of a struggle. This…this is strange."
"There, up ahead." Cheng could see lights, distinct from any of the reflections from water or slick rock that had fooled him before.
What they found did not disappoint them. The caverns narrowed to a single opening where the tracks lifted beyond a steep, bottomless drop to an unknowable place, supported underneath by narrow supports. To their left, a maze of small tunnels snaked further into the planet. Along the right stood a tower built into the rock that spanned from floor to ceiling, lit up with rows of blippy safety lights, betraying ports for ore to be tested and analyzed. Two cranes supported themselves from the second story, holding boxy equipment of obtuse purpose aloft for forgotten maintenance. From the top, however, overhung their prize. A balconied rectangular lookout-post with oversized, outward-slanting windows was illuminated from the inside, emitting a yellowish glow.
"He's here." Owens whispered.
"Right!" Cheng exclaimed. "Dingman! Position your men along our six. Powell, cover the tunnels and keep an eye on that bridge. "We're going up."
"It says right here, do not operate heavy machinery," John Wyatt pointed out clearly, making sure to trace with his finger.
"Aw, they just mean don't try if you're not good at it." Earl Medford protested, snatching the highly controversial Purple Tauren energy drinkout of his hand, and into his bloodstream, creating quite a shock to his system. His spine shivered with excitement.
"Besides, they just put that there to place the blame on someone else if something goes wrong, just like we do with Ryan."
Ryan was belly-down in sand, at the edge of their high mesa, tapping his spotting scope lightly to sight the tree line for the enemy that would not come. His thin lips were caked with dust and did not move as the conversation progressed behind him. His personal control was absolute, and even his freckles bowed to their designer's purpose and hid themselves incognito among the stones that clung to his cheeks, undisturbed by his concentration on the forest to the east. If they would only appear, he could kill them, and then he would have done his duty.
The sand devil revealed himself in a hiss lost to the high winds, shedding the skin grown in the last hour. "They're here, mount up." Bent on one knee, he began to fold up his scope.
"What did you just say?" John started from his lawn chair next to the tank, groggy with sun.
"Mount up. They are here." Ryan strode back towards his tank, next to theirs.
"That's impossible. If an enemy came within six miles of here we would have heard it on the radio," Earl argued, straining to reach for his headset without technically moving from his chair.
"The radio's not working," Ryan explained.
"Besides…." Earl clicked the radio on, then off, on, then off. His brow furrowed. "How did you know the radio wasn't working?"
"Because if the radio were working we would have heard when they came within six miles of here." He began to climb the handholds on the side of his own tank, Alyssa's Gun. "But we didn't. So mount up." Ryan closed his hatch, seals whirling shut, as Earl and John scrambled to do the same, forgetting their cooler and umbrella.
Tanner came back panting, but relieved.
"….Artillery…. East M-2…mobilized….must've finally seen… my signal."
"Good work, Tanner. Now go take a break and bring me some lemonade. I really do need it today."
Outside, the artillery began to fire as the first Zerg emerged from the forests. They were still too thinned out, along almost a whole kilometer, for the Siege Tanks to do any significant damage, but with luck it may slow them down, or at least disorient the zerglings. Dotted among boulders above the first cliff face, marines leveled their rifles on the leaping zerglings, dashing for mad, incensed by their masters. No fire could be heard form the marines on the ground yet, though. All was silent below on the front, as they held on their orders to wait to see the glare of their eyes. The quicker zergs' movements were fast enough to cross the clearing of rock and crag in only a minute. Their fortune likewise, lasted only a minute. Gauss rifles from every pore and nook of the lower cliff face erupted in a well-defined hail, taking down target after target.
The zerglings were an exemplary specimen of a hunter. One xenobiologist had likened it to graceful crocodile, with the instincts of a predatory cat. Its' long hind legs propelled it forward at a pace that could outrun a marine in power armor, even sprinting. But without prey in front of it to rend, it proved only so much cannon fodder. Each marine did his best to put it down before it could be seen up close, for skeletal structure proved unnatural, beyond what nature intended. Where the limbs, spine, tail, and chest were difficult in themselves to destroy, they were also where the zergling's chitinous superstructure erupted from the inside to into crescent points, betraying and intelligent design not it's own. No marine wanted to be reminded of that, and killed the threat as they wished to, a predator seeking prey, on a field, running on it's instinct alone.
The first-tiered marines were just reloading when the swarm came upon them. No longer were they dispersed like a mindless insects, but driven, by a giant in the sky, whipping them into a frenzy, and filling their minds with the taste of blood.
What am I up against here? Captain Cooley wondered. He couldn't tell anymore by these damned maps and screens and cameras. "Chiba! Put on that comms backpack and come with me. We're going to get a better look at this." He stormed off outside the tent, not waiting for her to catch up.
He took a moment to orient himself to navigating as a soldier in a battlefield. Finally taking hold of his surroundings, and not looking back at his breathless command staff, he ran up an embankment to a ledge overlooking the tree line from an angle. The branches of the trees danced together, in rhythm with the wind, conspiring to hid all movement below. He rested his foot on a large rock, and then looked through his binoculars. The Zerg were massing a larger force, as he knew. Three times as many zerglings as before flashed among the trees, taunting him. "They know where we are exactly, this time. More importantly, they know where we're not. Chiba, get the word out to cover our blind spots, top priority, on the double!" There weren't many, but they could be exploited, and tear the line apart.
"Yes sir. Air support should arrive momentarily."
It was then that that Cooley became aware of an uneven shaking in the ground. The charge began anew, and the artillery restarted their barrage. This time the zerglings didn't make a straight shot for them as a whole, but seemed to separate into many circles, arranged in strange orbits, with only a general pull towards his direction. Even as they did this, each zerglings knew its place in the pack, separating from the group like part of a firework and then coagulating at some new center to avoid a blast. The weapons on the Siege Tanks had little effect on groups that followed no pattern. Their reports landed wide, leaving unsatisfying gouges where the enemy had been only moments before, picking off only a few at a time.
Still, the captain thought, the Zerg's progress was slow, and they could not win this game of time. "Tell the boys upstairs to target their Overlords if they can find any; see if we can knock some precision out of these buggers."
The triangular-winged aerospace Wraith fighters whizzed overhead, the patriotic roar of their engines matched by the general glee elicited from the men on the ground. Distant booms of missiles tickled his ear.
"Gamma wing reports kills, sir; we own the air."
But by the time they had destroyed any of the cerebral gelatinous floating sacs that commanded them, hiding in the shadows and lees of the forest beyond, Cooley had already realized that their destruction was having no effect on the control of the hive mind. Instead, in that time, the hydralisks along the tree line had spat their acidic needles into the air, suspended on the fervent winds. Before they could be warned, the Wraiths popped in the sky, the corrosive substance cruelly crippling their delicate aerodynamics, leaving their frustrated pilots in shaky craft unable to aim. Their pin point lasers would be of no help now. The marines below were left to their own devices, as the zerg pressed forward. The sentinels that had been guarding the swarm from above threw away their restraint and began to slither forward.
The giant in the sky slammed his fist down tilting the table, and his marbles sped faster toward the humans. He shook the table back and forth, and his zerglings began to strafe, back and forth.
"I've never seen them so well controlled before." Tanner huffed.
"Neither have I," Cooley responded, not bothering to loathe mad at his existence, now too concerned about the consequences of his observations.
Fully two hundred zerglings criss-crossed his marvelous kills zones, hardly taking casualties or advancing, just staying bullet sponges. They could lose a limb or two and still keep on moving half as fast, further breaking up their pattern.
They're just wasting time, but- that was why. A deep rumble shook the rock around him, reached into his head and tickled his eardrums.
"What is that?" Tanner yelled, covering his ears, bent over, snapping Cooley back into his old prejudices.
Cooley slapped him on the back of the head and pointed fifty meters in front of their line.
Emerging from the ground were two pairs of tusks bent out and around from a monstrous head. Two beady eyes stared vacantly upward as the ultralisks finished their life's work, the tunnel so thoughtfully built for them to use at this hour. The ground gave way, and the two beasts found footing behind the zerg swarm, bellowing madly at the humans who opposed them, striking fear into their hearts.
And it worked. Cooley's heart skipped a beat. "NO! Chiba, broadcast on all channels! Ignore the elephant…things! It can't beat us. Keep your fire on the small ones; they are the only one that can bring us down! Do you have all that?"
Chiba's eyes widened in horror. She understood perfectly, and hoped it wasn't already too late.
Cooley turned back to watch the battle, praying for a miracle, but he received no mercy. The marines saw the beast that they could only take down in a combined hail and reacted instinctively to put it down. Most never consciously heard the order to focus on the zerglings; they were too blinded by terror. All but one of the noble tank crews saw an enemy meant for them and promptly turned their fire on the monster's thick tophide. To their credit, the zerglings were content to weave between the lines of fire, drawing only a few bullets before disappearing behind a boulder, or in a trench, leaving the marine with the choice of shooting at the monster from his nightmares, or what seemed in comparison to be an overgrown rabid dog. The ultralisks ended up only skewering a few of the closest marines, then kicking up and rutting the nearest earth in pent up fury, for they could not navigate most of the marine's cover, but honorably served their purpose, and the first line of marines realized that their enemy was now behind them.
Captain Cooley quickly ran back to his command post to get a more complete view of the situation. There was nothing more he could do. Fifteen zerglings continued to raise havoc among the crags where his marines hid. They would be destroyed in time. One of the mammoth zerg stuggled to rise, it's neck half-severed by a Siege Cannon. The other was being slowly subdued by marines far out of reach, human carnage tossed around it. One tusk broken off near the base, the other hung listless at its side, broken from the inside. It roared in the agony of seeing its own slow death.
The hundred and fifty who had passed through were halved by the Spider mines at the top of the ridge. Vulture hover bikes kept pace with the zerglings and picked them off one by one, looping back to lob a grenade, then zooming away, like a cruel safari. His Siege Tanks had little effect at this range, using a firing arc that required too much time in the air, too much prediction, to be of much use. All until thirty managed to scamper into a ravine, never fortified because it led to nowhere zerg would go if they wanted to flee.
"I don't suppose we still have contact with the marines in the mining facility?
"Negative, sir."
"Ah," he had expected as much. There would be no warning for his comrades below, and no way to send help in time.
Captain Cooley flopped down at his chair again and picked up his lemonade, but then put it down. He slouched far back into his low chair, leaving no profile from behind. He sighed, and put one hand to block the harsh artificial lighting of the tent, and rubbed his eyes. His forces had taken minimal losses, the enemy had been thoroughly routed, and Colonel Gainey had made it clear that he would not be held responsible for any failures of the Intelligence mission, but he was still left with a nagging question in his head.
Why did it feel like he lost?
"Almost there, pretty boy?" Tye had commandeered a discarded super-heated plasma torch and accompanying mask that was burning through the right side of the final door that guarded the prize. Owens and Po crouched prone on either side, their rifles leveled at their mind's ghostly image behind the door. Grimacing under the weight, Tye heaved the torch to start down the center crease, when the left side of the door retracted from the center. Even before Private Po's lightning fast reflexes could fire the concussion grenade that was his part to deploy, a voice inside declared he was unarmed. Instead, he did his best to raise his weapon through the gap while keeping his revealed profile small, allowing his squadmates to edge through, guns raised at Samir Duran, who stood hunched at the central console, the tips of his fingers pressing downwards, hands arched, facing the intruders stoically. He wore a black sweater, blue dress pants, combat boots, and a red Confederate beret, his lips wide with a hint of a grin.
"Samir Duran," Cheng waited, but received no argument, "you are herby placed under arrest for suspicion of treason, conspiracy, and insurrection, terrorism, and assaulting Dominion military personnel. "
"That sounds about right," he nodded agreement.
"What's the big idea?" Tye entered, lifting his welder mask and pointing toward the uneven portal he had labored on doors.
"You were sealing me in, so I thought I'd save you the embarrassment of doing the same job twice. Besides, I have a schedule to keep."
Tye barely acknowledged his explanation, easing his tool down carefully. He was halfway puzzled over the control station, but could not wrap his head around what was wrong. Certainly, the yellowish glow of the familiarly arranged control lecterns seemed out of place juxtaposed with a backroom filled with used MREs and water jugs. The amalgamation of next-generation command consoles rigged to interface with obsolete hardware aroused his curiosity. Above all, what caught and kept his eye, was the sole ornament opposite the observation deck: a framed black and white image of what appeared to be railroad workers called away from their work to take census and leave their mark on history. His mind reeled to a names and dates on the tip of his tounge years ago. Could he appraise its age? It must have been very old, for one of the workers had moved, and his trail ghosted away as the others stood still for the very long time necessary.
"Captain Cooley, come in, we have the target. Captain?…Captain?" He closed his visor. "Powell, Dingman, can you raise the captain, or identify a faulty transponder?"
"Negative. It must be these caves."
"In any case, we need to move out. Horowitz, take Duran into custody."
Private Horowitz approached Duran and twisted his arms behind his back, binding them with a hard plastic tie and tightening them mercilessly, but causing no visible reaction. They began to leave the room, single file through the half-opened door, when a cry rang out from below, echoed through the caverns, and reverberated off the rock and metal, hanging in the air like the last note of a song.
Below, marines rotated furiously, tracing with their weapons the enemy they could not see. Their night-vision equipment conflicted with their motion sensors, and everywhere an enemy had been he left settling junk heaps and raised dust, creating a cacophony of metal-on-metal screeches.
There's no time, Cheng thought. He pushed aside Lunsford to get back into the control room, and struck the closest window panel with a quick jab of the butt of his rifle and a grunt. He configured his shot on the side of the gun and leveled it on the broken frame, sweeping away the clinging shattered window crystals from side to side. A definitive ker-thunk punctuated the quiet rustlings, leaving a slow-moving arched diamond of green light to illuminate the cavern. He couldn't establish a clear line of sight from the tower back the way they had came from, but his flares were able to ricochet to brighten up the nearest cavern out of his line of sight. Based on the radio chatter, though he could tell that their troubles would not end.
As his squad continued to alternate flare support from their own supplies, the marines below prepared themselves to face the enemy from the cavern. Two zerglings were able to propel themselves off of the curved walls on the side and into the midst of the marines. He saw one tear at the neosteel like so much cotton candy, it's pincer above the shoulder (the other had been severed, to no great effect) pinning down the unfortunate soldier until his life finally ran out under tearing mandibles.
Dennis the firebat had taken it upon himself to run from the tunnel entrances to the opening left in Powell's line, and his plasma was able to incinerate four zerglings before they were able to close any distance at all.
It was this opening, however, that the zerg had counted on upon their descension. Before a warning could be shouted, six zerglings had emerged from the tunnels and were crossing the cavern to the squad's harried line.
Burrows, actually, Owens thought to himself.
Their fire divided and numbers weakened, victory was assuredly out of reach. The flashes of gunfire slowed, and then stopped. Two more flares fired from the tower, followed by quick rifle bursts, and then the cavern floor was motionless.
"Po, Fletcher, go check for wounded." Cheng spoke quickly, before anger overtook him, "Tye, how the hell did they get down here so fast?" he demanded. Cheng was absolutely furious. No one fought wars of attrition in this century. Two forces nearly completely destroy each other, when does that happen anymore?
Tye was already at a geological console, trying to figure out what had just happened. "Through the elevator shafts." He observed the surveillance cameras displayed before him. "They must have clawed their way down." He tapped a few keys and grimaced at the results. "They're inoperable, sarge. The power supplies are completely wrecked."
He could have controlled any door in this place, or sucked the air out of any room, so why didn't he? Tye filed these questions away for later.
Cheng slammed his fist against the welded bulkhead and rested his head on his outstretched arm, facing away, but still talking with the full force of his authority. "What are our options?"
"I'll need to take a closer look at the damage, because, right now, I just don't know."
Cheng turned back and nodded. "We're leaving now, double-time." Horowitz gave a stern shove to Duran, who then kept pace with the rest, trotting down the tower stairs angrily. At the bottom, Fletcher approached and shook his head, and they made it back to the elevators without incident, where Tye began to inspect the damage to the machinery, once they had trekked back to the lifts.
After the perimeter was set up, Cheng could not ignore his rage any longer"Why did you let this happen, Duran? You must have known we were coming, that they were coming, even just before. Would you rather us all die than stand trial for your crimes?" Cheng was practically spitting in Duran's face, but he seem unfazed.
"No, that's not it. Remember, Sergeant? We were able to tell where the turrets were because he was controlling them directly. He was targeting us, directly, even though he had no chance at stopping all of us. Who were you really waiting for down here? Who was going to rescue you?" Tye spoke with wonder, for the surreal room at the tower still consumed his mind.
"Why, you and your marines, of course."
Cheng only slightly pushed Duran with his left gauntlet, but the element of surprise and lack of balance from having his arms tied was enough to for him to fall in the mud. "Don't give me that Duran. Where did everyone go, and why were you here to begin with?"
Duran picked himself up using only his legs and made a show to leisurely dust himself off, though it was to little real effect. "I came here for the usual reasons. Consulting, if you will. My set of skills in working with, or not working with, the Dominion was in demand here, and I would be morally remiss to pass on a chance to further the cause." He looked around expectantly, but all were silent. Apparently they wanted more. He continued, "As for the crew here, they were picked clean, I suppose."
"What are you talking about?" Horowitz asked.
Duran elaborated. "Digested, destroyed, taken up in the circle of life. They put up a good fight, but they never really had a chance. I was fortunate enough to find myself in the secure command center on the tower at the time, and was able to observe safely from there."
"How convenient," Cheng mocked contemptuously. His mind raced. Picked clean? How do zerglings pick clean blood off the ceiling, and get the stains out from the carpet? How long had the zerg had reign over this place, and why did his squad get so far before losing conta-" "Contact, Tye?" His eyes shifted left and right, but the technician was nowhere to be seen.
"Same static, sir." His voice cam over the radio garbled
"I was trying," Duran continued, "to control the mining probes and diggers and service bots remotely, to take care of those tunnels you saw, and make sure that no hostiles made it through." He shrugged, "Maybe someone would eventually start to wonder what happened to their duty-free ore shipments."
Lynch had had it. "You and your people Duran! Why are my friends still getting killed by Confederate resistance when we have the Zerg on our hands? Why can't you let go? The Confederacy was killed by it's own greed and incompetence and the Zerg it created to oppress us still rampage today!"
Duran looked sincerely hurt. "I'm very sorry you think that, Mr. Lynch, but it's simply not true. If you think this sector has moved past family politics, you need to take a closer look at your emperor."
"That's enough out of you." Cheng held two fingers to his ear. "Tye, what's the situation?"
"Not as bad as it could be," his voice crackled, "It seems to be a clear break at the power junction down here on the third elevator. If we jury-rig some power armor in a circuit, we should be able to have a very slow moving elevator on our hands."
"Excellent news. Tran, Po, Owens, go salvage some power supplies from our fallen comrades." He looked up and away from their set, determined faces. "I want to see the sky again."
Only harsh red emergency lighting emanated from three corners of the elevator, and everyone with a visor had theirs raised to shield their eyes. Tye marveled at the man before him, a specimen to be observed.
"Do you really want to reinstate the Confederacy, Duran, or is that just an excuse to cause mischief and keep your rank? I mean, what real chance do you have? The people won't accept a step backward, and the only way I see the Dominion going away, anyone who's left is going to have bigger problems than how to govern themselves."
Cheng tried to ignore Tye and distract the others from him, raising his voice in trying to hail the surface. The zerg had severed the sensory cables leading into the caverns, leaving no data to test the integrity of the communication chain, so Cheng kept up hope. He really wanted to, more than anything in the world, to lower his visor tell the two lovebirds to shove it or get a room, look each of his men in the eye, and laugh at the pathetic mission they had been sent on. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to be able to say these words without fear or quaver in his voice, but he knew it would not be as he imagined, and he kept his voice strong and single minded, looking only to the surface.
"An astute observation, Mr. Tye. Before the exile, many years ago, the masses had faith in systems that lasted generations, and the politicians were interchangeable more than most would like to admit. This reliance on a sovereign king the people embrace in times of crisis is archaic and dangerous, a relic that will always weaken and shatter in time. People will come and go, but the ideals and drive of nature are eternal and must remain free to be reached for and perfected. I do not submit myself to any individual for long, Mr. Tye. Anyone can influence a human or two. But if I'm not creating something grand that will outlive me, then what am I doing that matters?"
"That's great and all, but I saw what was in that control room. You could have sabotaged our mission in any number of ways, but we only suffered one casualty until the Zerg showed up. What's the big idea?
"I am not a murderer, Mr. Tye, I am a professional. Please don't insinuate otherwise. I make an effort to know my enemy, and I can't very well know you if you're dead.
Horowitz pondered this studiously. "You're not a dumb man, Duran, you must see some good in the Dominion. If it's a struggle you want, wouldn't your time be better spent fighting the Zerg?"
"They are but animals. If I wanted to go hunting, I would go on a safari for bengalaas; at least their hides are worth something." Duran, for the first time, seemed annoyed more than anything else.
Any surprise Horowitz could have registered was cut short by their arrival at the top floors of the complex. Here, the lights were their same sterile white, and the blue panels shone with the same muted brilliance as before.
It seems like we're already home, Owens wondered to himself.
"Tye, you remembered to disable the rest of the security mechanisms, right?"
"Of course I did, but it will still probably be best to go back the way we came."
"Can you hail the Captain from here?" He deferred to his charge's diagnostic communication module.
Tye attempted to find anyone on the open channels, but had no luck. "The Breadcrumb chain is unbroken, but no one's responding." The silence proved overbearing, but Tye gave a nervous smile to each of his compatriots. "Don't worry you guys, it could be anything, just faulty wiring. I'm sure the chain's a false-positive." No one felt any better.
"We should leave," some one suggested. They all concurred and proceeded at a jog in a rough delta formation, Tran, Horowitz, and Duran safely in the middle. Ninety seconds in, they stopped. Along the spotless grey hallway, a circulation vent cover lay on the ground, it's place above gaping wide.
"That wasn't there before," Po clarified for those in the back. A snap and crunch gave way to the clicks and fizzles of lights and vents shutting off.
And there was light too, Owens mused.
"Defensive positions!" Cheng drawled loudly. Every visor was shut and night vision activated. They quickly retreated back to the last intersection. Po and Lynch, Fletcher and Owens, Horowitz and Tran, and Cheng , Lunsford, and Tye each took to the prone position and leveled their rifles down a seperate hallway. Duran was rudely pulled down flat on the floor, completely surrounded by his captors.
The familiar cries began, and as two zerglings zoomed into Horowitz's and Tran's sight, claws struggling frantically to gain purchase on the slick metal of the base's floor, the marines opened up their rifles, metal slug shredding through the creatures.
Their hide's exoskeleton was made of intricate chitin that shattered on impact. The zerglings bled from their wounds but would not die, and the marines only stopped their fire when the creature's convulsions stopped bringing it closer to them.
It took nerves of steel for the others to remain focused on their own respective arcs of fire and not to glance in doubt at their comrades.
Trust, Trust, Trust, Fletcher intoned, letting his trigger punctuate the prayer.
The squad maintained discipline. More came at them from every side, but their defense held, keeping the enemy at a healthy distance. Tran lifted his visor and the green glow it provided, as the muzzle flashes illuminated the outline of his target, and not their terrible character. Each strobe etched into his mind the vestige of a nightmare, the dark forms creeping upon him. They were monsters, but they were real, and that one just died. Monster, Cheng's burst put one down completely, it's nerves totally shot. Tran lifted himself to reload as the halls around him continued to murder. Monster, monster, don't you know you're dead? He fired his weapon again, killing them without a care in the world.
Then, the ceiling began to rattle, but no one heard it over the report of the rifles. It gave way, and a zergling landed above Duran's lying form obscuring him totally, its double-jointed haunches, treacherously close to his arms, absorbing the impact. It howled hideously, and Lynch had just enough time to turn around before he was pummeled to the ground, toppling Po with him. Lunsford dropped his rifle that would penetrate through any flesh, bones and neosteel, and grappled at the back of the resolute zerg, intent to feed on Lynch's bowels. Six more zerglings came down the undefended hallway, as resistance from the rest of the passes slackened. Tye was quickly maimed, his scent carrying through his open clothing and inflaming the predators. Cheng flew with rage and hammered the butt of his rifle into the spine of the offending zerg with a satisfying crack, as it's upper torso tried futiley to crawl away. Lunsford, armed again, was backed into a corner, firing at three from his right and left and right before being taken down by the lunge of a zergling that was dead before they hit the ground. Tran and Horowitz could not bring their rifles to bear and each struggled on the ground to slash with their large combat knives, fighting for their lives, their rifles tossed out of reach by the chattering claws.
Duran rose, and saw the carnage around him. It was a fair fight, mostly. Each living human had only to kill a matching zerg, and they could finish the missions as heroes. But that would not do at all.
Po was an enigma, and he had neither the time nor patience to understand him. Horowitz was beginning to show a healthy questioning of authority, which could come in handy. Tye was dead, his soul no more, and Duran mourned for him. Too many good men died in the happenstance of war. Lunsford had potential; though his fate remained uncertain. Cheng would have to die. He was too focused on the present to see the big picture. Lynch was a firecracker who could hardly control himself. Rage was an admirable quality at times, but it was all too common. Anger was easily cultivated, but one is only born with patience. Tran was moldable, but liable to crack under pressure. Owens cerebral musings were quite enjoyable; he would enjoy working with him. Fletcher was already dead without a word of protest.
As Horowitz would later recall, struggling for his life under the weight of a hungry alien, Duran would grind his bindings against the crest of a zerg's spined and then grab the nearest weapon. He took charge and destroyed the murderous zerg still threatening his remaining comrades, Lunsford and Owens.
The remainder of Cheng's squad sat wounded against a wall, the power somehow once again restored, for now, as the backup systems found a new way to reroute the power around the gnawed cables. Duran held the rifle unflinchingly, which was quite a feat for someone unaided by power armor, and patrolled the nearest hallway junctions before pausing in front of them.
Their armor had been torn up pretty badly, and Lunsford had lost a lot of blood. His suit's life support system provided him with adrenaline during the battle to compensate for his destroyed shoulder and broken ribs, but now he slept soundly. Owens pulled his knees close to his chest and stared at the blood on the floor, trying to reason out it's owner, the battle playing back in slow motion, as each drop was spilled. Horowitz made eye contact with Duran…his savior, his captor? There was not a weapon close enough to scramble to in time.
"What will become of us?" Horowitz asked, trying to find out his intentions without suggesting the worst, which might drive him to hate and murder.
"They're animals, Horowitz. You know that. They are to be broken, tamed, and used, not glorified for their own sake." He stopped his pacing and stood front and center in front of them, his rife held by the barrel; butt on the ground and slightly askew outward. "You know where I stand. Are you going to die for a selfish creature or live and fight for an ideal, something eternal?
"I had a family. I joined to protect them, I think." Now Owens spoke. He looked up from the blood to around the rest of the carnage. "I don't know if I can anymore."
"You can, soldier. No emperor or Dominion will help, and it will be hard. But you mustn't take the easy way out. You need never be powerless against violence again, if you so choose."
"Do we have a choice?" Horowitz drilled to the point.
Samir Duran let the rifle fall to the floor with a rattle that made it seem like the toy it was. "You always have a choice." He turned sharply, as if on parade, and began to walk purposefully back to where he had waited before, letting the offer stand.
"I have work to do."