StarCraft: Downfall
Chapter 9: Endgame
Through the eyes of her minions, the Queen of Blades observed the terran ship.
It wasn't necessary for her to be on the behemoth itself. She could have remained on Char and coordinated her minions just as effectively. Just as even now she controlled the rest of the Swarm, from the Koprulu sector to regions of space that no name existed for. But she wanted to be here. It was a human emotion, to 'want' something, but one she was willing to indulge regardless. She wanted to be here after her failure at Dylar IV. She wanted to prove to herself that no matter what resistance the Alliance had offered, the Dominion was still an easy target. Her primary target, the civilization that she would burn away from the face of the galaxy, and force Mengsk to watch as she did so before ripping out his still beating heart. She wanted to prove to herself that she wasn't afraid. That the voice in the back of her mind had no control over her.
Control…sitting on the throne of resin, running a hand down the head of a Hunter Killer, she reflected on it. Control was dictating fate. Control was what she exerted over this behemoth, and every zerg organism on it. Control was what she held over the lives of every terran on the frigate before her. The behemoth was barely moving, having only just emerged from warp space, and the only propulsion it had was its own inertia from that emergence. But the frigate had barely moved either, which made the queen wonder – were they startled? Defiant? Or just too afraid to act?
The queen stretched out her mind, past the telepathic chorus of her strains, touching upon the individual and feeble minds of those on the ship. Searching for the mind of Lomax Turner, the one who had made this possible. He was there…somewhere…his mind was weak, in a manner that suggested that his failing mind was the result of a failing body. A shame, really. But he was zerg. He'd accepted that he was zerg. And being zerg meant sacrifice. Being zerg meant being one of many. Being zerg…meant being unstoppable.
So with less than a thought, she gave the order. With less than a thought, folds along the behemoth's outer carapace opened up. With less than a thought, dozens of scourges were launched, like organic missiles at their target. With less than a thought, the scourges formed a pack, a shield for the real arrivals. The ones who would ensure that if Lomax Turner died, there would be plenty of terran bodies available to take his place.
So the queen sat back in her throne.
And with much thought – thought of her previous failure, thought of the thrill of the hunt, thought of what bounty it would bring, she watched the spectacle unfold.
"Status!"
Red lights were flying, the glow reflecting in the terrans' eyes. Watson's included as he strode onto the bridge. He could see the darkness of space, moving as the Athena moved through it. He could see the table that once displayed the starmap, now replaced with a tac-map. He could see every member of the bridge crew either focussed on a task, or standing to attention. And that included Mercer.
"Sir, Commander Turner," the navigator said. "Where is he?"
"Ask me later," the captain said.
"Sir, you-"
"Turner was the traitor, and he's now dead" Watson said, putting his hands on the tac-map's edge and briefly flexing them into fists. "You're my commander now."
"I, um…"
Watson glanced around the bridge, all of the crew looking startled at the mention of Turner. He looked at Mercer, now looking a lot older, a lot feebler, and much less sure of himself. But still a better commander than the late Lomax Turner could ever hope to be.
"Commander Mercer," Watson said forcefully. "I asked for status."
"I…" Mercer swallowed. "Yes sir." Watson nodded before the navigator-turned-commander continued. "We only started moving recently, but the Athena's here," he said, gesturing towards the hologram of the frigate on the tac-map. "The zerg behemoth," he said, gesturing towards the object on the other side of the display, "is closing in on us – it's picking up speed, so if we assume the rate of acceleration remains constant, it'll reach us in fifteen ticks."
"But it's a behemoth," Watson murmured. "Transport strain. It's not meant for combat."
"No sir. That's why the scourges are there."
The tac-map zoomed in, and Watson saw what Mercer was referring to. Scourges, moving towards the Athena in a bee-hive-like formation.
"The scourges were shot from the behemoth," Mercer continued. "Their acceleration is decreasing – whatever boost the behemoth gave them isn't being compensated by their own stores of gas."
"Analysis?"
"They'll reach us in five ticks at their rate of de-acceleration, assuming that our own speed remains constant," Mercer said, drawing the tac-map out to give a wider display. But three ticks after that, we'll be out of range."
But not out of range of the behemoth, Watson thought. He looked Mercer. The navigator just stood there, trying to look impassive. Trying, but failing.
Fekk.
"What's the status of our warp drive?" Watson murmured, rubbing a bead of sweat from his forehead.
"It'll take hours to spin up."
"And this region of space?" Watson asked. "There's nothing in it?"
"Nothing within non-FTL means. It's just empty. So since our shuttles don't have warp capacity, they're useless to us right now."
Fekk!
Watson lay his hands on the tac-map, his face downwards. A single scourge could take out a shuttle, a handful of them could take out a capital ship. But even if they withstood the barrage, there was nothing to stop the behemoth from reaching them. It was larger, but in space that meant nothing, and its organic propulsion had much greater velocity than the Athena's engines. It could catch up to them. Disgorge even more strains. Probably smash the frigate into pieces without breaking a sweat.
And the shuttles? How long could they last out there?
"Sir?" Mercer asked. "Your orders?"
Damn you Turner…the captain thought, staring at the map. Damn you!
"Sir?!" Mercer asked. "Your orders?!"
Watson straightened himself up. Scourges first. And rescue.
"Ziegler," Watson said to the communications officer. "Send out a message to Korhal. Time, coordinates, nature of attack."
"Aye Sir."
"Puebla," Watson said to the tactical officer. "Weapons status."
"Laser turrets active Sir. Ready to fire."
"Time until the scourges enter maximum range?"
"Two point five ticks."
"Good. Open fire then, and not a minute later." Watson turned to the pilots. "Bobenthal, Cawthorne, keep us moving as far away from that behemoth as possible. Full thrust, no turning back."
"Aye Sir."
"Yes Sir."
There was fear in all their voices, Watson noticed. Some hid it better than others, but it was still there. And while Mercer remained silent, Watson could see the fear remaining in the navigator's eyes. Could see it reflected in his own.
"Lieutenant Woods," the captain said into his comm. link. "Status?"
"In the armoury sir. I've assembled my platoon."
And the fear was in Woods's voice as well. Hidden no better or worse than any of the bridge crew.
"Orders?" she asked.
Watson closed his eyes. Orders. What orders could he give to ground-pounders in a situation like this? What role could they play? The zerg wanted to destroy them, and the scourges alone were enough to do that, at least in theory.
"Orders, Sir?" Woods repeated. "I need or…I mean, if you-"
"Standby on that Lieutenant," the captain repeated. "Watson out."
He signed off the comm. link. He had to assume that all the members of the crew could do their jobs, and not need the marines to babysit them. But he also had to assume that they were all afraid as he was. That they would look up to him. Await his words. So, trying to compose himself, he spoke out over the intercom.
"Captain Watson to the crew of the Athena." He looked at Mercer – the navigator had done his job in alerting the ship to the danger. Now he had the unpleasant task of rubbing salt in the wound. "As of three ticks ago, a zerg behemoth warped in off our portside. That behemoth is now closing in on us, and has dispatched smaller aerospace strains that are moving in to attack. In less than two ticks, they'll be in range of our ATA laser batteries. In a few ticks after that, we'll be in range of them."
He paused. He glanced around the bridge crew, all of them at their terminals. All of them doing their jobs. All of them scared stiff.
"This is an eventuality we've all trained for. I expect it to be an eventuality that we're all prepared for. So get to it – hazard teams, at your stations. Med-teams, at your stations. Engine team, give us one-hundred and ten percent. If the zerg want us, we're going to make them sweat for it. Bleed for it. Die for it."
He paused again, wondering if he should end it there, or say something more. Say that there was hope, that they'd get through. But he couldn't. He knew he should, but it would be a lie. They were going to die, he realized. All he could do was postpone the inevitable.
"That is all."
And spare his family that knowledge for as long as possible as well.
"Sir?" Puebla asked. "The scourges will be in range in one tick."
Watson nodded. The tactical officer nodded. Looking at Mercer, he saw him nod as well.
Fighting the shaking in his hands, Watson rested them back on the tac map. Watching the scourges and behemoth approach.
Watching death approach.
On the terran ship, the order was given to fire. Less than a second later, the zerg were on the receiving end of it.
Lasers tore through the vacuum of space and began hitting or missing their targets, the hit ratio increasing as the scourges drew closer. One after another was turned into a cloud of green gas. One after another was forced to adjust its position in the formation. One after another drew closer to the Athena, and consequently, the hail of laser fire that tore into them.
The zerg kept coming. If an observer had been present, they might have noticed how ineffectual the attack was. Scourges were effective aerospace strains, but the distances at which space battles were conducted made them best reserved for runs of shorter distances. Hundreds of klicks, not the thousands they had to traverse in this case. As their target drew away, as they decreased in speed, as they were thinned out, the attack was seemingly about to come to nothing. A few might make it through. Might damage the ship. But not enough to destroy it.
But the observer wouldn't have known that the zerg weren't here to destroy the Athena. They were here to capture it. So a hundred klicks from their target, the surviving scourges disbanded. Revealing that their formation hadn't been for their own protection, but the protection of the strains that they had been shielding within it. Strains that spread outwards into the stars, closing in on the frigate through bursts of gas that would give them enough velocity to close the distance.
Mutalisks. Devourers. The stuff of aerial nightmares.
The laser turrets kept firing. The zerg kept dying. But now the zerg could inflict damage back. Damage that was focussed entirely against the frigate's ATA batteries. Had the zerg wanted to destroy the frigate, this combination of strains could have been used to have the mutalisks distract the batteries while the devourers used their projectile acid to melt through its hull, eventually destroying it. But again, they wanted to capture it. So within a few ticks, it was over. Zerg carcasses littered the vacuum. Bits of mutalisk. Bits of devourer. Even a few bits of scourge. But it was a price worth paying. The laser batteries were destroyed. The ship's only defence was its own speed. And as the surviving strains focussed their attacks on the frigate's engines, intent on disabling rather than destroying them (lest that destroy the ship as well), it was a defence the terrans would soon lack.
And then came the final wave. Sac after sac launched from the behemoth. All of them carrying warrior strains. All of them safe from any laser fire. All of them on target for the ship's airlocks or hanger bay – any opening of any kind. All of them ready to follow the orders of their Queen. All of them hearing her voice. All of them hearing her words throughout the hive mind…
"Take them."
Sitting on a box of ammunition, resting a hand on the butt of her rifle, Jean Woods rocked back and forth.
Zerg. Zerg were here. She hadn't seen them for two years. Not since Anselm in the Brood War. Not since…not since a zergling had thrust a claw into the side of her chest. Not since she'd survived only by shooting the zergling and let it fall on her in the trench. Not since she'd remained hidden as the zerg had overrun her platoon's position. Not since she was picked up by the Dominion and assigned to the Athena. Not since…not since…
"Lieutenant?"
Woods kept rocking. Left hand on the rifle, right hand on her chest where the wound had been. Even while wearing CMC armour, she could feel it. Remember it.
"Lieutenant?"
Sense it.
"Woods!"
And she looked up. Her helmet was on, but her visor was raised. So was that of Sergeant Grosbard, a non-resoc, and a corporal right until she'd given him command of First Squad.
"Your orders," he said. "What are they?"
Woods sighed. "The zerg are onboard the ship. Can't you hear them?"
"Ma'am, I-"
"Listen," she hissed, grabbing the sergeant's helmet. "Listen!"
The sergeant looked at her. Trying to keep her hands from trembling, Woods slowly released her grip. She looked around – what counted as her platoon was in the armoury. All wearing armour, all retrieving weapons or being already equipped with them. She could tell the resocs from the volunteers – the resocs were blind soldiers, willing to fight and die for the Dominion. The volunteers…they were smarter. Still human. Terrified. Like herself. Only they were doing a better job of hiding it.
Zerg on D deck, section five.
This is Hazard Team Alpha, there's zerg on-
Bravo Team, B deck. Section three is overrun.
The airlocks! They're coming out of the goddamn-
The voices all came down from the armoury's intercom. It was left open in the event of Captain Watson assigning them a position on the ship. So far he'd failed to do so. And so far, Woods hadn't found it within herself to contact him. To ask where he wanted her to die.
"Dead, all dead…"
Sadie was in the armoury though, pacing back and forth, rubbing his hands together. He at least wasn't afraid of showing his fear. Or maybe he had no choice.
"Gonna die, gonna-"
"Sadie, why aren't you in armour?" Woods asked.
The man looked at her. "What?"
"CMC armour. You're the armoury officer."
"You pan-brain, the only armour is the stuff your marines brought with you! You think I can just scrounge up-"
"Private Zuber is dead. His armour isn't. Put it on and get a rifle."
"But-"
Woods took a step forward. She was already taller than Sadie, and with the power armour giving her another foot of height, she towered over the man.
"I'll…" he stammered. "I mean, yes, Sir. I'll do that. Sir."
Woods let him scamper off. She turned around to face her men.
Zerg.
She blinked, trying to steady her breathing. Trying to ignore the sweat that ran through her hair.
Zerg.
She blinked again. Zerg…zerg were on the ship. Zerg were killing her fellow crewmates. Zerg were killing machines.
Kill, kill so much.
But she figured, so were her marines. Because the Brood War had shown her that zerg could kill. And that terrans were quite good at that themselves.
"Alright, listen up," she said, trying to keep her tone steady. "Zerg are boarding the ship. Maybe they want a challenge, maybe they're stupid, I dunno. But we're marines. We're not paid to think."
A few grins popped up through the assembled soldiers. Even a few from the non-resocs.
"There's twenty-eight of us, and a swabbie who's going to join us in a few microticks," Woods continued, glancing back at Sadie to ensure that he was indeed climbing down into a CMC suit, and not trying to hide behind it. "So twenty-nine total, against a helluva lot of zerg." She forced a smile. "Fair odds I say."
Liar. Odds are never fair against zerg. They just keep coming, and coming, and coming, and coming, and-
"So…" Woods said, feeling like someone had grabbed her throat and was trying to strangle her. "We spread out. Six fireteams, two from each squad. Grosbard, Avoca, Vanosc…" Woods gestured to her three sergeants. "Divide and conquer. Assign command, but I want us spread out. One fireteam for the bridge, one fireteam for the med-bay, one for the hanger. One from each squad."
"Ma'am, that's spreading out a bit. We-"
"We're on a ship. In corridors. Zerg can't use their numbers against us." Woods glanced at Sadie, now in Zuber's CMC suit and looking more terrified than he had before he got in the damn thing. "And I want those points secure."
The marines nodded.
"Fireteams four to six, I want one deck each, B to D," Woods said. "Firesweep. You see zerg, you kill zerg. You see their point of entry, you destroy it. And you keep doing that until I say otherwise." She forced a smile. "You get me?!"
"Sir yes Sir."
"Good," Woods said. She readied her rifle. "Get to it. We move out in one tick."
Quickly and efficiently, the sergeants divided their squads. A bit less efficiently, the resocs milled about, following orders. Even less efficiently than that, Woods saw Sadie walking up to her.
"Ma'am…I was wondering…if I-"
"You're not coming with us.
Sadie, his visor up, looked like Christmas had come early.
"We need guns. Everyone needs them. So you take them with you. As many as you can, you hand them out, then come back. Rinse and repeat. Got it?"
"Um…"
"I said, you got it?!"
"Yes. Er, I mean, yes Ma'am."
Woods sighed. Technically Sadie outranked her, at least under the principal that marines were subordinate to the navy that carried them. But they were past that. And it wasn't as if the zerg cared either.
Zerg…
Woods blinked again. Her plan…her plan was useless, she told herself. It was tactically sound, but these were the zerg. With a behemoth. The epitome of their swarm mentality, and she didn't even have a proper platoon with which to fight them. And even if by some miracle they repelled the xenomorphs, if by some miracle they eradicated every last critter on this ship, what then? The laser batteries had been destroyed, and the engines were barely functioning. What would stop the zerg from blowing them out of the airless sky?
"Ma'am, we're ready."
Woods looked at Grosbard. He and every other marine looked back at her. All ready to move out. And she hoped ready to die.
Nodding, Woods lowered her suit's visor. Gritting her teeth, she watched as her HUD took form. Ammunition count, IFF tags for her men, a targeting system for their enemies…little tidbits that might keep her alive for a few ticks long.
I'm gonna die. I'm going to die, be torn apart and…and…oh please, not like this…
"Get ready to roll out marines," she said, her heart pounding like it was ready to burst out of her chest. "Give 'em hell."
Hell. It was all she could hope to give the zerg before Hell claimed her in turn.
Her and every other terran on this ship.
A/N
Few changes exist between this chapter and the original conception:
-Originally had 3 behemoths. Changed it to 1 because while 1 by itself is overkill against a frigate, 3 is just taking up the overkill to rediculous levels. That, and I'm kind of left to ask what role behemoths have anymore, considering that leviathans are larger, and have the benefit of offensive abilities. My guess is that leviathans were developed sometime between leaving Zerus and arriving at Aiur, and that behemoths were the best thing (or rather, only thing) when it came to the Overmind leaving Zerus.
-Originally had corruptors instead of devourers. Changed it because it allowed me to dodge a bullet if the deployment date of infestors is given as post-2502.
-Space battle...don't think that was actually tweaked, but I had uneasy thoughts about the notion of scourges being able to catch up to the frigate, given that in space, with no gravity, propulsion/thrust is the sole determinator of speed. Then again, scourges were able to catch up to the Norad II, and StarCraft is in the "soft" end of the sci-fi spectrum anyway, so hopefully it worked out.