CHAPTER SEVEN
Raynor took a squad to scout into the next chamber. Searching for the lost troops – several more had gone missing without warning. When the Hyperion really got moving, it could stir a whole mess of trouble, and Raynor wanted to see it before it saw them. Several squads just like this one were moving throughout the planetoid, maintaining vigilance and radio contact. They wouldn't be losing any more men without someone knowing about it.
There were other zerg here. Thousands of drones, apparently just resting dormant on the walls like spiders in their webbing. Massive shapes dominated the centre, the size of buildings, but Jim guessed was some kind of gestating eggs. Were they breeding hives here? He couldn't be certain.
And bodies. A quick telescope from a head visor told Jim all he needed to know about the missing crew. The zerg had been harvesting them. Apparently just seeing them as a useful food source for their enormous infant cares.
He heard a man retching. Timothy always had a weak stomach outside of a fight – steady when the bullets were flying, though.
Raynor patched in with Horner and Swann over the radio.
"Alright, I'm going to take a fighter, give you boys some cover when you move out."
"You sure you know how to handle yourself in one of those things? Been a while since the old wars, commander."
"Like riding a bike, Swann, I'll be fine."
Pretty sure. Besides, I've taken them out for plenty of test flights and recon missions. Can't take a bike or a battlecruiser everywhere. Although I'll admit those Vikings are something else.
"Turrets are online, sir – if you spot anything, we can bombard anything outside of a fifty metre radius."
"Yep, I know the line, Horner. You just focus on anything big, we'll pick off the small stuff. Okay, pilots, just like Tarsonis and Haven – form up on me, watch your spots, and call it before you do it."
"That's why they call us Raynor's Raiders, sir."
If they could have seen him through the helmet, he would have winked and clicked his finger to show his amusement, but alas. "Good to hear, pilot, let's get 'em. I've been itching to beat my high score."