Imperium by Forever Jake
Chapter Four
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One hour earlier...
High above the swirling skies of the desert planet, the battlecruiser Norad III hovered ominously. It was a small ship, at least comparatively – smaller than most of the behemoth craft that served as flagships and carriers for the fleet. It was far shorter from head to tail than a normal battlecruiser, and its rear half was prodigally tiny; the Norad's creators had wasted no time on heavy weaponry or engine power.
The head of the vessel, by contrast, was squat and elongated, and easily dwarfed all other regions of the ship. Almost all of the head was devoted to the bridge, as well – an abnormal number of wide port-windows dotted the exterior of the ship in that area, offering a view of the surrounding space to the men and women who staffed the various interior compartments.
Norad III was a command ship, in every sense of the word. It existed to direct battles, even wars – not fight them itself.
General Duke was very proud of his vessel. Its predecessor, the Norad II, had served him well, but had taken severe damage in battle against the Zerg in recent weeks and even crashed temporarily on the surface of some forgotten moon. It had been repaired and fully serviced, of course, and he'd continued to use it through the end of Mengsk's campaign against Tarsonis – but it just wasn't quite what he'd needed. So he'd had it decommissioned.
This ship, though – it made him giddy just thinking of it.
The crash of the Norad II had been a wake-up call for Duke. Being in direct danger, not knowing if he would survive or even if he would be found – living at the mercy of the ravenous Zerg, and then at the mercy of the ruthlessly political Mengsk and his rescue team – it had all been so frightening, so disturbing. A general wasn't meant to sit there, helpless, like some common soldier! He was supposed to lead, to direct the battle from behind the scenes.
With that in mind, he had scouted the Terran fleets for a suitable replacement. At last, from the ranks of the enigmatic Nova Squadron (formerly Tarsonis' and now Mengsk's intelligence and tactical arm) had it emerged: a smaller, less easily targeted vessel, small enough to be missed among other capital ships and too slow-moving to be mistaken for a rogue fighter. Most impressively, however, it blended perfectly into the background of space, for it had been coated in nothing but the sleekest black paint.
Duke had commandeered the vessel at once; it was perfectly suited to his purposes. Thus had the master of the new Dominion's fleets come to possess his new flagship.
A newer, better ship didn't do much to stop aliens from attacking, though. And now they had come to test him.
Duke paced across the deck of the ship, battle sequences and maneuvers running through his head at warp speed and shooting from his mouth even faster as veteran helmsmen and under-commanders struggled to keep up and relay his orders to the other flagships, who in turn would direct the individual fighter groups. The enemy was still around on the day-side of the planet, above the uninhabited wasteland region; only the outlying portions of the fleet had engaged, although reinforcements from the main fleet above Augustgrad were already moving to assist the defenders. If Duke played his hand quickly and skillfully, the invasion could be stopped before it reached the surface, sparing ground forces the challenge of dealing with them.
The front-line report had described the attackers as Zerg, but backup had yet to verify. Duke was fairly certain that he knew what to expect from a Zerg offensive: lighter but broader attacks at first, which would quickly evolve into much heavier waves focused at more particular locations. The fleet had a limited time before the main assault came; he had to ensure that the defensive lines were in place before then.
"Bring in the faster groups first; wraiths and valkyries. They'll be able to fly circles around the enemy until the slower, heavier groups arrive. Stagger the support as well – we don't want the Zerg to see everything we've got up front. Leave some at the back of the line to surprise them. And for God's sake, keep those frigates and battlecruisers covered! We can't chance losing many of the larger ships before the bulk of the opposition arrives."
"Sir, are you sure about sending in the valkyrie groups so quickly? They're only experimental, and we've a very limited supply–"
"So be sure to back them up! They're fast, Captain, and that should be enough to keep them safe for now – and the firepower on them is incredible. I promise we'll have time to make more of 'em after the battle."
"Sir, yes sir!"
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The warp-space was alive with Thoth. Through the blinding tunnels of light he radiated, pure, infinite, undeniable. He was surreal, yet impossible to dismiss as fancy or delusion. He did not speak, did not appear; was neither visible nor hidden. He simply was.
The Cerebrates of the Zerg Overmind needed no names; yet names they had, and Thoth was what this one called himself. He was not even a he, yet he was far too intelligent, far too powerful to be an it. So he was Thoth.
Thoth reached out with his mind through the uncountable masses of his brood, whose very numbers approached infinity. He saw what they saw; complex and discolored images received and compiled through a myriad of eyes, antennae and peripheral detectors. All the input, the sensory notations, the rush of information, flooded through his underlings' nerves and brains and fed back to him, showing him whatever he wished to see.
Right now, there was a tiny desert world he wanted to see. It orbited an ancient star and sported a small Terran civilization; this last attribute was more than enough to make it a target. Thoth focused on the world, and a collage of visions and sounds appeared to him.
The first scouts had reached the Korhal system; this pleased Thoth. The remaining Zerg would begin to appear within the hour as they emerged from the warp, and by the millions and billions they would descend upon the unsuspecting world, obliterating its naïve human inhabitants like they had those of every other Terran world.
Chau Sara... Mar Sara... Antiga... Tarsonis... not all had fallen to Thoth's brood, but all had fallen to the Swarm. The Zerg race had come for humanity, and humanity, one world at a time, had crumbled before its destructive touch. Now Thoth and his brood had come for this world, at last. Like those before it and those that would surely follow after, Korhal would crumble and burn.
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The first wraiths screamed through empty space, the flashes of lasers and biological explosions growing larger in their windows.
"Alright boys," the squad leader was saying. "Tighten up those masks and goggles, we're in for some huntin'." His wraith pulled ahead towards the battle.
As they neared the front, they could see the signs of conflict marking where the fighting had begun: twisted scraps of metal floating where surprised, dormant wraiths had waited, stringy pieces of skin and muscle that had all too recently been living, breathing mutalisks, and here and there, little globules of blood and acid floating by like tiny, darkened stars, all but invisible against the backdrop of the setting sun on the far side of Korhal.
"Damn, looks like these critters caught us with our pants down," came the leader's voice again. "Alright, keep your eyes open for friends and foes. Shoot to kill, and keep moving. We don't need any more casualties out here before the big guns arrive."
"Over there!" came a reply from one of the pilots. "Three muties, looks like they've already seen some fire. Chasing some kind of ship; might be a wraith."
"Alright, boys. Let's go get 'em!"
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Laser-fire and guided missiles found flesh and bone, and acid burned its way into steel amid animal screams. The Battle of Korhal had begun.
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End of Chapter Four
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