STEEL, SOUL, AND SPIRIT
By
Gregory P. Wong
Chapter 16: Supernova
"Solar Blast!" he roared, and a beam of pure white energy arced from his palm. Ulreathan, with a surprised expression on his face, thrust out his palm and blocked the attack. Ulreathan hurled another Shadow Flare at him, but he swept up his right psi-scythe and knocked the shadow energy away. Energy attacks would get them nowhere; they were too evenly matched.
Straas ducked out of the way of a Shadow Strike, and rushed at Ulreathan, distracting him with a crackling lightning strike of a Quantam Bolt. Ulreathan was nearly stabbed, but he dodged and drew out his dark blades. With that, they flew at each other again. Slashing and whirling.
Parry and riposte. Blow and couterblow. Stab and evade.
Straas delievered a powerful kick to Ulreathan's shoulder, and the transformed Judicator stumbled. Before he could follow up the attack, however, he was knocked backwards by a flash from the Blademaster. Skidding, he stopped his backward momentum and faced Ulreathan. He and the Blademaster circled each other for a few moments, then resumed their unwinnable battle.
Traenid/Esralath monitored the losing space battle with mounting dismay. The entire assault spear sent by Commodore Farrell had managed only to destroy eleven capital ships of the Thres'nalop, but over ninety were converging on his/her position. The battered lance of Terran battlecruisers and destroyers had been pounded into glowing metal and dust. The fighters were dwindling even more rapidly now, without the support of the Terran capital ships. The Thres'nalop would be through the fighter screen in less than fifteen minutes. He still needed thirty, no less. The Strikers, Seraph interceptors, scouts, and Corsairs held in reserve were ready to launch in five minutes.
They had no time.
Suddenly, his/her holographic communicator chimed. He/she activated it and saw a face of a Protoss commander on the surface of the Terran world. In the background, thunderous booms punctuated the Ground Force Commander's remarks. The Protoss was standing in front of one of the Terran heavy war machines.
"Executor! We have managed to lure the Thres'nalop into the trap prepared for them." The ground commander said. "The Terran... artillery... is has been firing for several minutes already. However, a massive rush forced our Reavers and High Templars to expend their firepower. Luckily, the Terran Artillery has shifted some of its firepower to cover a closer distance, forming a barrier of protective fire. In a few minutes, the scarabs and Templar energies will be replenished, and we can sweep them from the vicinity.
"If the gods will it, we will win this battle. I hope you fare well, Executor."
Traenid/Esralath bit off a comment. No need to panic the troops on the ground.
"We are doing our best. Adun with you, Ground Force Commander," he/she said.
"Yes, Executor," replied the Protoss Ground Force Commander. "En taro—" The Ground Force Commander was blasted off screen by a dark blast of something. Another explosion followed, and another, until the transmission was reduced to static.
He/she jerked up as if the blasts had hit him/her personally. A Ground Force Commander probably dead, and the combat situation had obviously taken a turn for the worst.
"Only Ulreathan could have done that. I know his powers, Traenid."
He/she then attempted to open a link with Szcraa, but the link could seem to reach the surface. The subsequent link to Straas likewise failed.
"Damn, it must be Ulreathan."
A jerk shook the Phantasm. One of the Khalais immediately called out.
"Executor! A high-speed Rapier just slammed into our shields. No armor damage, but our shields are reduced to 98.6 percent. I also detect a group of talons and Rapiers that have broken through our fighter group.
"Executor! Shall I order the pilots to launch?" rang out one of the Templars in charge of coordinating the fighter and interceptor forces.
"Yes. Order them into space."
The Phantasm shook in a different way as its fighters and interceptors screamed out of their launch tubes in a wash of ion trails. The single Terran battlecruiser and three destroyers maneuvered to bring their weapons to bear.
Soon, more and more Thres'nalop fighters were trickling in, and they were being dispatched with less efficiency each time. He/she felt frustrated. All his/her power, and he/she could not do a thing to help in the space battle.
Unless...
He/she reached out with his/her mind, and began to probe the minds of the Thres'nalop pilots. With a sudden burst of power, he/she took control of them.
The captured minds rose in confusion, then horror, then rage. Their minds attempted to wrest back their bodies from his/her grip, but he/she was too strong for them. With grim determination, Traenid/Esralath sent the fighters careening into accompanying Thres'nalop single-ships. The squadron of talons and Rapiers crashed together and formed glowing orange flowers in the vacuum of space.
Another wave of Thres'nalop ships swarmed towards the Phantasm.
It was hopeless. Even with his/her immense energies, there were simply too many Thres'nalop leaking through the failing fighter screen towards the Phantasm. The space surrounding his/her flagship was awash with motion. Seraph interceptors and Thres'nalop talons; scouts and Rapiers; Corsairs and scabbards. Terran lasers and missiles mixed with Thres'nalop spark weapons. In minutes the enemy capital ships would break through, and all would have been for nothing.
"This is how it ends."
Then a message on the holoprojector announced itself. Frowning, he/she opened it. The image of a helmeted Commodore Farrell appeared in the transmission window. Apparently, the Crimson Dawn was still intact! He/she traced back the signal to its source; the Terran flagship was nestled in the midst of the Thres'nalop fleet.
"Get all your ships out of there. Get far, far away!" Farrell rasped. "You got five minutes. Then the Thres'nalop get a very large surprise." The transmission disconnected.
But Traenid/Esralath was already bellowing at the fighters engaged with the Thres'nalop to flee.
"I hope whatever the Terran has in mind works."
"Me too."
Farrell groaned. He felt too light. Puzzled, he opened his eyes, his hands reaching for the helmet release. He was lucky.
Another few inches, and he would have died. Very quickly and messily.
The bridge of the Crimson Dawn was painted red. Literally.
The officers and techs on the bridge had died a quick, gory death of explosive decompression. A six-meter wide hole gaped off to the right. If I had opened my suit... thought Farrell numbly as his hands faltered on the helmet release. His paranoid habit had saved him.
He tried to move; couldn't. He was still strapped to the command seat. The lack of energy had shut down the gravity generators. He had to deal now with the disorienting zero-G.
He unbuckled himself, and drifted carefully to Damage Control's computer. He nearly cried out in horror.
Every single capital ship of his assault force was gone. The Dawn's decks were compromised, and he feared that the troops and engineers down below were splashed across the bulkheads like gruesome paint.
Hopelessly he looked around the wrecked bridge. Then a thought came to his mind. Gliding back to command chair, he looked for something, hoping it would still be functional. In a burst of relief, he discovered it was. Gliding down to a Communication's station, he pushed the inside-out corpse of the young woman out of the way, and opened a link with the Phantasm. A moment later, the image of Executor Traenid/Esralath appeared on the screen.
"Get all your ships out of there. Get far, far away!" Farrell told the Protoss commander. "You got five minutes. Then the Thres'nalop get a very large surprise." He cut the comm link. Felling sick, he coasted back to his command chair. According to the schematics, the blast radius of a Colossus-class fusion reactor would make an explosion eighty kilometers in diameter. And the nuclear arms aboard the Crimson Dawn would add thirty or forty kilometers to that. He watched the chronometer as the allotted five minutes dripped away. 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...
He tapped a few keys, and a sent the commands for self-destruct to the computer. There was a whir and a tortured screech tore through the ship. This is the blaze of glory, eh. He no longer felt sick.
The Dawn began to shake violently as the atom-ripping forces began to work. Farrell glanced down at the counter through his visor: thirty-five more minutes until the planet-crushers were operational.
He smiled as pure, blinding white filled his vision...
Szcraa shook her head to clear the lingering darkness. She opened her eyes and tried to remember what had happened. Ulreathan... She darted her eyes around. She saw unhindered chaos as Protoss and Terrans and Thres'nalop fought at close range. A zealot stabbed a noblade in the back. A Vulture was hurled through the air as a Bloodscythe swung its arms. Marines and noblades traded fire with each other, ducking to make use of cover. Dark Templars battled with darkblades and steeblades. Flames gushed as firebats hosed any Thres'nalop within range with killing flame. Nuclear fire destroyed handfuls of Protoss and Terrans in flares of blinding white. Sickles were bowled over by Goliath autocannons. Undulating energy from gluon cannons tore apart the atoms of Protoss Dragoons.
Re-Igniting, she hurtled into the desperate battle, doing her best to fight back the Thres'nalop. She might have just been fighting back a volcanic eruption. With a fire hose.
She looked off to her left, and saw a breathtaking sight. Her mate, clothed in pure white flames, was battling with the dark Ulreathan. At his explosion of action, she gasped as Straas seemed to transform into a white blur moving at impossible speeds. Ulreathan responded in kind, and the two fighters danced around each other, looking for a critical opening. She could only make out the two fighters vaguely if they slowed, and she caught only a glimpse for a bare half-second.
She turned back to the battle. A sickle turned towards her, and tried to stomp her. Apparently, it was out of ammunition.
She dashed forward, lowered a shoulder, and rammed into it, the immense machine flying ten meters to crash on a group of stoneblades. Another wild twirl caused a steelbade to miss with a slash from its envenomed spear. Impaling it with her psi-scythes, she threw it over her shoulder and watched it collide with a noblade. The force and mass of the thrown steelblade corpse slew the lesser Thres'nalop warrior.
Fighters scrambled from Terran bases engaged in aerial dogfights with Thres'nalop talons. Light Valkyrie frigates blasted away and were blasted away by Thres'nalop Rapiers. Feeling heat heading towards her, she dodged out of the way, and the spark volley flew past her body. She swiveled, and blew the dagger away with a burst of plasma. As the battle continued, she lost awareness of individual events; they were all just part of the long battle to her. She darted every which way, she fired every weapon she had, she slashed at any hostile in range. Off to the side of her vision, she saw Ulreathan rise into the air.
Straas grunted as a slash from the dark swords cut a furrow into the carapace of his flank. He ducked Ulreathans next attack, and came up, raking the Blademaster's shoulder which was devoid of armor. The transformed Protoss grunted in pain, and flew back from Straas. Another of Ulreathan's rushes resulted in another slash, this time on his right forearm. He repaid Ulreathan with a clawed kick that caved in some of the Blademaster's armor. they backed away from each other again. Then they flew at each other yet another time, their moves almost too fast for any observer to comprehend. I have to defeat Ulreathan. The Protoss and Terrans need my help. I have to win. If Ulreathan could hold him off long enough, the former Judicator could wait until the Terran and Protoss defenders were gone, then teleport to a safe distance and drink the life force of the humans. With a roar, Ulreathan flew off the ground and rose eighty meters above Straas.
He fired up a Quantum Bolt at Ulreathan, and the Blademaster responded with a dark lance of a Shadow Strike. Solar Flares mixed with Shadow Flares. Quantum Bolts lit the sky, and Shadow Strikes sucked the luminescence away. Beams and lightning bolts of dark and light collided and danced past each other. Hopeless. I can't beat him like this! Concentrating his energy, he sent out a flurry of well-aimed Solar Flares that connected with Ulreathan. Tumbling through the air, the Blademaster grimaced. Then the moment of pain was gone, replaced with rage.
"Enough of this! Now it is time for you to die, Straas the abomination!" screamed Ulreathan. "Behold..."
Straas was stunned when he saw a black, crackling sphere of anti-light build up in Ulreathan's outstretched palms. The sphere grew larger and larger, until the humongous orb of dark energy was easily four meters in diameter. Hefting the globe in his hands, like mythical Atlas holding up the world, the sphere was held above Ulreathan's head. Straas stared at the dark force; his sensors told him it was exponentially more powerful than Ulreathan's most powerful Shadow Flare. There was no way he could deflect it, no way to dodge it.
"Meet death Straas! DARKNESS OMEGA!"
Swinging the sphere down towards him, Straas saw the orb transform into a ten-meter wide beam of pure fiery dark energy.
In the time it took for Ulreathan to unleash his attack, new knowledge had been opened to him. In the space of two milliseconds, he concentrated his energies in ways never before. He felt the power flood his right arm. He grinned as he felt the energy build. As Ulreathan let loose the Darkness Omega, Straas unleashed his most powerful attack: Supernova.
"SUPERNOVA!" roared Straas, and a ten-meter wide spear of blinding white energy exploded out of right arm and flew towards Ulreathan's beam of light-consuming energy.
The two beams intersected, and immediately he felt himself slide backwards a dozen meters. He planted his feet, and his backward motion halted. Ulreathan's Darkness Omega and his Supernova had collided, and their point of intersection was a seventy-meter wide orb of crackling, swirling gray. Straas saw light and dark mix randomly in the intersection point.
Ulreathan had a look of disbelief on his face. He obviously did not expect that... thought Straas. With a murderous growl, Ulreathan gestured with his arms, appearing to push out, and the power of the dark fire increased. The intersection point crept meter by meter towards Straas. He rallied his own energies, and the sphere of gray slowly advanced to where it had been before. The intersection point constantly quivered back and forth. With another roar of rage, Straas felt Ulreathan lashed out, and the orb of certain annihilation flew towards him. With the surface of the globe meter from his face, he pushed out again, and forced the sphere away.
He went farther this time, and he pushed until his pillar of fiery, crackling energy pushed the gray globe a bare meter from Ulreathan's hands. With a grunt, the Blademaster forced back the sphere to its starting place.
His arm were getting tired. Straas grasped his right wrist with his opposite hand, and used it to steady his tiring limb. For a third time, Ulreathan sent another blast of energy towards him. And this time, he was not sure he could hold it back...
Traenid/Esralath could not believe it. The Thres'nalop fleet had been shattered by the unexpected nuclear fusion detonation. Forty of the Thres'nalop ships were annihilated by atomic blast, and a good thirty more were badly damaged.
"Farrell gave up his life like any Protoss warrior would."
"Let us not waste this..."
"All ships in the area," he/she called out over a fleet wide communication. "The Terran Commodore Farrell gave his life in a manner worthy of any Protoss. Let us not waste this opportunity!"
He/she felt the psychic roar of the Protoss in the fleet through the communal link of the Khala. A rekindled hope now burned in them. He/she felt the fatigued fighter pilots battle with renewed vigor. Even the remaining Terran pilots seemed to have turned the chaos of the nuclear blast into rekindled energy. He/she glanced at the countdown timer: thirty minutes left.
Straas strained under the Ulreathan's onslaught. It had been a half-hour ago when this hopeless duel had begun.
He was weakening, and Ulreathan, strengthened by stolen energy, knew that as well. The intersection orb was inching closer and closer. He could not hold it back. He slowly collapsed to one knee, barely keeping his palm pointed towards Ulreathan.
He rallied one last time, and the surface of the orb halted, a mere meter from his palm.
Ulreathan chuckled evilly. "Foolish display Straas. Darkness will always extinguish the light. Your mere torch is nothing compared to my all-consuming shadows! The darkness take you, abomination. It is the last thing you will know!"
The sphere inched closer. And closer. It ends... Straas thought, defeated.
Then something changed. He could no longer see. The strange melody returned to his mind.
Then vision returned, but not regular sight. He could only see... white. Then darkness encroached on the blazing background, and filled it out. He could make out movement off to his right. White figures were standing still transfixed with what they were seeing, all forms indistinguishable from the others. He slowly understood. Those are... everyone who is,was, fighting. He saw one form stand out from the rest. It had the form of... Szcraa. If he lost, Szcraa would be another of Ulreathan's victims. The rest of Waj Norhal would soon follow.
He saw. The scorched world of Waj Norhal hangs dead in space. All life on the surface is extinguished. Ulreathan, with the power that he needs, sets out to conquer the rest of Terran space. The Protoss follow.He saw the universe populated by the savage Thres'nalop. All life in the universe is extinguished.
The vision left.
If I am defeated, the universe will fall. This is no longer at the stake of a Terran world. The whole universe is in my hands. The realization hit him like a nuclear shot.
His strange vision left him, and normal sight returned. Ulreathan still hung high over him, cackling madly. The surface of the orb was almost touching his palm, inching closer. Straas growled, and he pushed, one last time.
"Darkness flees from the light, Ulreathan. Light conquers darkness," he said through gritted teeth.
"The way to destroy darkness is to increase the light!" he roared.
With all his might, and the haunting song echoing in his mind, he unleashed the full force and fury of his Nova powers. His power locked inside him burst out from the dam of his mind.
The advancing shadowy sphere halted its movement towards him, then broke apart. The overwhelming, blinding force of his blazing, fiery Supernova shattered the Darkness Omega of Ulreathan, scattering it into splinters of impotent shadow. In the space of a few milliseconds, Straas saw the blinding light of the Supernova wash over Ulreathan. The Supreme Blademaster's expression changed from contemptuous rage to horror as the light touched his outstretched palms. Then, in a mere half-second, the force of his pillar of light reduced the former Judicator to nothingness. A howl echoed through the air. Ulreathan was no more.
He wanted to sink down to his knees and give in to unconsciousness, but he had one more thing to do. Directing his palm in a new direction, he sent the powerful column of light and energy into space, right into the midst of the Thres'nalop fleet.
"FIRE!" screamed Executor Traenid/Esralath as the final seconds ticked away.
Eight beams of planet-slagging power streaked towards the Thres'nalop fleet. Seventy ships were destroyed by the powerful weapons, and ten were too damaged to move effectively. However, the beams were not as effective as they had first been. Twenty Thres'nalop warships heaved towards the Protoss fleet, in one final, desperate attack. He/she began to order the ships to disperse and engage, but something rose from the surface of Waj Norhal. A blinding ray of power speared towards the Thres'nalop, playing across and obliterating the rest of the enemy ships in space. He/she just stared.
Only fragments remained of the previously unstoppable Thres'nalop fleet.
A chime on his/her control panel told of an incoming message. He/she activated it. Reports trickling in from the surface told the same story: the battle for Waj Norhal was over.